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p1astr81 · 5 months ago

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Spidey-Osc! -op81

in which: Oscar Piastri takes on the double life of being a high school student and also the hero of New York. While playing the part of spider-man, Oscar starts to get closer to his classmate, a girl he otherwise wouldn’t have dared to even look at. (au)

(based on Tom Holland’s spiderman, with the webbing mechanism of Toby’s)

pairing: spiderman!oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, lots of exposition, not proof read… (lmk if there’s anything else!)

an: isn’t my editing fabulous guys?? for the purpose of this, everyone is 18. This will also be multiple parts, this being part 1.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Oscar swung between the towering buildings of New York, his eyes hyper focused on the scum who just stole the donations from Santa’s Salvation Army bucket. The guy clearly wasn’t too smart, as he was dressed in a bright red coat. That only made it easier for Oscar to track him from the high altitude.

The perpetrator ducked into an alleyway, which Oscar took as his cue to begin chasing him on foot. Webbing between tight alleyways was a recipe for disaster. Or disastri, as his two friends loved to joke.

As he dropped onto the sidewalks, he slipped on a patch of ice and ended up bumping shoulders roughly with a girl. In a rush, he threw a quick sorry! In her direction. But he took note of her clothing. White coat, pale pink gloves, the color of her hair. It would be difficult, but he would find her later and apologize properly.

For now, he had a thief to chase. “Hey!” He called after the guy as he began to climb a fire escape. Really? Oscar thought to himself. Trying to get away by climbing? While I can scale the Empire State Building in seconds? Evidently, the guy wasn’t very smart.

As the red coat guy reached for another rung of the ladder, Oscar shot a web from his wrist, sticking his hand to the rung. The guy let out a sound of frustration as Oscar webbed his feet in place, too.

Oscar pulled his phone out, and called the local police. An easy task for him, as he had their number saved.

Once he’d called in the crime, he began to heckle the red coat guy. “Stealing from charity? That should be a federal offense.” He tsk’ed under his mask.

“Don’t you have something better to be doing?” The criminal insulted. “Don’t you?” Oscar fired back quickly, his hands perched on his hips. The guy responded with a grunt as he tried to yank his hands and feet free. It was no use.

The pair of them heard the police siren looming closer, and red coat guy was frantically trying to free himself. Oscar chuckled.

A singular cop car stopped outside the alleyway, and a single cop stepped out of the vehicle. Could Oscar really have asked for much more from the NYPD? Definitely not.

“I’ll let you take it from here,” Oscar told the cop before quickly scaling the side of the building. He got a running headstart, and jumped from the side, slinging a web out to the nearest building. Oscar lifted his feet as to not scrape them along the pavement. He continued down the streets of New York, his eyes on the lookout for the white coat girl. Unfortunately, Oscar never found her.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar grabbed his anatomy book from his locker and as soon as his hand was withdrawn, his locker was shut by another force.

Logan.

“Mate, I get you’re spiderman and all,” he lowered his voice, not wanting to expose Oscar’s secret identity. “But you were supposed to come over and play video games with me and Fred.”

Oscar sighed. “I forgot.” He ran a hand over his face. “Dude. This is the third time.” Logan pointed out, highly annoyed.

“I know.”

Oscar opened his locker once again to retrieve his anatomy notebook and binder.

“Excuse me.” He heard from beside him. He looked up, his eyes quickly finding you as you waited for Logan to move away from your locker that he was currently leaning on.

It was luck of the draw when it came to Oscar getting a locker next to the most popular, prettiest, and smartest girl in his year. Every guy would kill to have his locker. In fact, a lot of them tried to pay him to switch. He didn’t, of course.

He thought the proximity of your lockers would help him make a move. But Oscar was awkward, and there was this nagging voice in the back of his head that told him you were way out of his league.

So to spare his dignity, everyday he would keep his head down and wouldn’t even dare to look in your direction.

Today, he did. And he quickly took note of the white puffer jacket you wore. And the corner of his eye caught sight of pale pink gloves sticking out of your pocket. And your hair color, well, it was the exact same as the girl he bumped into on the street yesterday. He bumped into you yesterday.

Logan apologized, stepping to the side so you could grab your supplies for your anatomy class next period.

When you walked away, Logan lowered his voice and gushed, “did you see that? She talked to me!” It snapped Oscar out of his trance. He laughed and shook his head. “Because you were in her way.”

Logan shrugged. “A win is a win.” He replied.

Oscar chuckled. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He parted ways with Logan, walking the short distance to his anatomy class.

Halfway through anatomy, Oscar’s desk mate, Lando, leaned over into his space. “What’re the odds you think I can get her to tutor me?” He whispered. Oscar knew who he was talking about. You. You sat at the table in front of the pair with one of your good friends, Alexandra.

Now, Oscar and Lando weren’t friends per say. They didn’t hang out outside of school, but they were friendly.

“I’d say if your intentions aren’t to get with her, then decently high.”

“Well, obviously my intentions are to get with her, but she doesn’t need to know that.” Lando sassed.

“Yeah well you don’t think-“

“Piastri,” Mrs. Coulson called.

“Yes?”

“Which valve is this?” Her ruler pointed to the valve between the right atrium and right ventricle.

“Uh,” He thought quickly. “AV bicuspid.” He answered, and noticed that you had turned around enough in your chair to lock eyes with him.

Mrs Coulson hummed, clearly unsatisfied that he actually got the answer. “Pay attention.”

He watched as you tried to hold back a laugh. Whether it was at him for being caught out and not paying attention, or at the teacher for failing to embarrass him, he didn’t know.

You turned back around in your chair, and leaned over to Alex. “I’ve never got a good look at him, but he’s actually kinda cute.” You whispered, chuckling with Alex.

And because of Oscar’s enhanced hearing, he heard it. He felt his face immediately heat up.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

As was routine, Oscar found himself swinging from building to building. It was a rather slow day. Anything that caught his attention either turned out to be nothing, or the cops where already on it.

That was until he heard a shout. A quick “hey!” Nearly muffled in it’s entirety by the heavy blankets of snow.

But Oscar heard it, and quickly scanned the area to identify the problem. He nearly groaned when he realized it was another robbery. Safe to say, he was bored of taking care of thieves.

Nonetheless, he swooped down, webbing the small pink bag from the perpetrators hands and yanking it from their hold.

He stood on top of a lap post. “Who does this belong to?” He called, but almost everyone on the sidewalk below ignored him. Well, all but one.

You stood at the bottom of the street lamp. “It’s mine!” You called up. Oscar froze momentarily when he locked eyes with you. Quickly, he snapped himself out of it, dropping down smoothly in front of you.

“Here you go, uhm, ma’am.”

Accepting her handbag, she raised a brow. “Ma’am? Wow that makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

Oscar started to panic. “I just meant… well you don’t look old. You look amazing actually—er, uhm—young, I meant.” He was making a total fool of himself. Thank god for the mask, he thought.

You laughed. It was a sound that tickled something inside Oscar’s brain and made him feel warm inside, despite the freezing cold air that threatened his body with hypothermia.

“Well, thank you.” You smiled, and the warmth inside Oscar’s body intensified.

My god he was down bad.

“Oh! Also, I bumped into you yesterday. Never got to properly apologize for that. So, I’m very sorry about that.”

You laughed again. “Did I hear that right? Spider-man remembered my face? I’m truly honored.”

Oscar did not miss the way your eyes slowly raked over his body, shamelessly checking him out. His face was on fire. Just wait ‘til Logan hears about this.

He tried to play it smooth, but his laugh came out awkward. “I should probably get back to protecting the city.” He cringed as the words came out of his mouth. “Yeah probably,” you nodded, ginning at him. “See ya, Spiderman.”

“See ya, (y/n)!”

He left you with that, throwing a web at the building across the street and leveraging himself 15 stories into the air.

He didn’t even realize he’d called you by your name.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

He arrived at Logan’s soon after, still in his suit. He hoped no one was watching as spiderman sneaking through the window of a random house would surely stir up some stories.

Logan and Fred paused their game when they say the human spider crawling through the window. “I see you didn’t forget today.” Logan jabbed.

Oscar waved his hand through the air, ripping off his mask and moving to sit between them. “You guys aren’t going to believe who I just talked to.”

They both stared at him, unmoving, waiting for him to tell them. “Y/n. Y/l/n.” Logan tilted his head the slightest degree, his eyes narrowing. Fred just stared blankly. “And I think she was flirting with me.”

Logan bursted out laughing. “She wasn’t flirting with you. She was flirting with spider-man.”

“Yeah but who wears the suit? Me.” Oscar pointed out.

“But every girl would flirt with spider-man. I think Megan Fox would flirt with Spider-Man.”

Oscar shoved him roughly. “Shut up, man. You’re just mad she didn’t flirt with you.” And then Oscar remembered the conversation he overheard during anatomy earlier that day. “And! She was talking to Alex during anatomy and I heard her call me cute.”

Logan bit back a laugh. “Cute? Like how you would describe a bunny?”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

“Alex, you’re never going to believe what happened to me yesterday.” You walked into anatomy gushing.

Oscar straightened up a little, prepared to shamelessly eavesdrop.

“Ugh, did you finally get that hot guys number who dresses up as hawkeye?” You smiled, shaking your head. “I told you, if you want his number you’re going to have to get it yourself. I’m not helping you with that.” You laughed.

“But no, yesterday, on my way to work, my bag was stolen and guess who got it back for me?” You gushed. Alex raised her brows and motioned for you to continue. “Spider-man. And then when he gave it back, he started flirting with me!”

From beside you, Lando scoffed. The girls turned around in their seats, looking at him with questioning glances. “He’s not even all that. He’s a guy swinging about in his pajamas. He’s no Captain America.” Ouch.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that cause he’s built better than you.” Your gaze shifted to meet Oscar’s

“What do you think about him, Piastri?”

“Uhm,” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I think he’s… chill.”

Your grin did it’s best to hold back your laugh, but it ultimately came out anyway. A light chuckle. Unknowingly, your gaze drifted to his biceps, which were hardly contained by his shirt. The cuffs of the short-sleeve where borderline strangling his arms. You raised your brows, looking to Lando. “I think you should ask your friend for some gym advice.”

Oscar felt his face heat up. Was she… flirting with me? Not as Spider-Man… but as just me? Oscar questioned to himself. Surely not. Surely she was just trying to get under Lando’s skin.

I’m out of her league, he reminded himself

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar worked on autopilot. Web, swing, scout. Web, swing, scout. The cycle came naturally to him. He hardly even thought about where he was shooting his webs.

As much as Oscar wanted the city to be safe, it was getting quite boring nowadays. Most days, he would end up on a rooftop somewhere, sitting on the ledge and she paid half attention to the streets below. Most of his attention would be directed to his phone where he scrolled through socials.

A scene caught Oscar’s attention, and he realized his boring night might not be so boring after all.

A girl, sat on the edge of a cafe rooftop, adorned in a white coat and pink gloves. Oscar dropped down softly behind you.

“You shouldn’t be so close it the edge. It’s dangerous.” He called. You smiled brightly, twisting your head to see him. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

Oscar bowed his head and joined her on the ledge. “I suppose it did, yes.”

It began to snow lightly, flakes falling on your eyelashes as you looked out over the city.

“So, what are you up here for anyway?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m on break. I work in the cafe.” You explained while gesturing down to the building you were both sitting on top of. Oscar leaned over the ledge to peek at the side of the building. Indeed, it was a cafe. “And…” you started, facing him. “Like I said, to get your attention.”

Under the mask, he lifted his brows. “Really? Is there something you need?” He asked, wondering if something was wrong.

You laughed, your head bowing as you did so. “No.” You shook your head, smiling at him. “You’re just…” you shrugged. “Nice to talk to.”

Oscar felt his face heat up as he started to fiddle around with his fingers. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t Oscar you were saying this to. It was spider-man.

You tried not to laugh at how obviously flustered he was. But it was quite the ego boost, knowing she made a superhero nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that one before. Definitely been told the opposite though.” He joked and you laughed. That felt like a huge accomplishment to Oscar.

“But I was wondering,” you started, staring out at the city once again. You swung your legs through the air. “how did you know my name yesterday? I know I never told you it.” Your narrowed eyes interrogated him. Your expression daring and intimidating.

He quickly scanned his brain for an excuse. “Maybe I said something that sounded like your name?” He offered. You didn’t buy it and shook your head pointedly. “No. I know I heard you right.” You were sure.

Oscar sighed. “It’s on the inside of your bag.” He gestured to the same one lying next to you. You checked it and saw he was right. “I didn’t want you to think I was creepy.” He sighed.

“Oh, well-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, as the watch on his wrist began to incessantly beep. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” He excused himself, jumping to a nearby rooftop.

Once he was sure he was no longer within earshot, he answered Tony’s call.

“Kid, I need you at the compound.” Tony sighed through the speakers.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“No. I need you to help me wrap Morgan’s presents. I bought way too many.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 #spiderman!oscar piastri

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angellicxx · 15 days ago

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Steady - Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x Rookie FBI Reader

summary: As a new FBI agent, you’re paired with Dex for your first mission manning a sniper’s nest. Your aversion for each other has you both struggling with staying on objective and following the rules.

warnings: Gun, unprotected sex, smut, semi-public sex, bruises, scratching, strong pull out game

a/n: first smut let's goooo

w.c: 3,400

You were new to the unit.

A fresh graduate from Quantico, you proudly wore your badge of Special Agent for the FBI with a smile. The other agents had been welcoming and kind; throwing out tips about the rugged New York streets, helping with the overwhelming paperwork— and even assigning a more experienced agent to show the ropes and keep a watchful eye on you.

Agent Benjamin Poindexter.

Even the name gave you chills.

When his dark eyes glared at you for the first time, greeting you with a raspy voice and that smug smirk, you knew it was going to be rough.

Unlike the other agents, Dex wasn’t that enthusiastic on helping a rookie.

Cocky and independent, you could tell he hated you.

It ruined his order of things.

He would always send you down to fetch his coffee or do some other chore he couldn’t be bothered with, anything to get you away from him. Yet whenever you weren’t next to him, obediently waiting and ready for the next task, you could feel his piercing gaze from a far, just in time to see him quickly look away when your eye caught his.

You could really feel his stare when he was assigned to man the sniper position with you.

One of your first ever real missions; keeping watch during a high profile event where some underground crime network might attend, of course you were thrilled— until you found out you were going to be stuck with Dex all night.

The job was easy, if things went south while the other agents were in the building, the sniper would take out the problem from an isolated distance.

The kind superior he was, Dex of course gave you the honor of being the sniper—which was really just lookout and a punishment for ruining his night. The bright streets of Midtown were alive with distant sirens and pedestrian chatter echoing off the buildings. Too bad you had to enjoy it on a cold rooftop lying stomach down on the ground next to the one guy who hated you the most.

Six feet of Dex was towering next to you, completely engulfed in his work and eyes rarely leaving the building through his telescope. Your bones had began to ache— your hips had been digging into the floor for the past hour and your arms were tired from gripping the rifle, which was positioned on a tripod at the edge of the roof. You were becoming dizzy from the height, multiple stories and the cold concrete being the only thing separating you from falling whenever the wind shifted.

It was late, but you didn’t know how long this event was going to last and if things were going to even get exciting. As far as you knew, you would be stuck like this next to Dex until dawn.

After a while of staring at the windows and entrance, you began scanning the New York skyline, trying to name as many familiar buildings as possible.

Just when you were adjusting the sights to see the Brooklyn Bridge, a rasped voice pierced the silence.

“Do you even know how to handle that thing?”

You pulled back, looking up to see Dex had lowered his telescope and was now watching you.

“If you didn’t know if I could handle it, why give me the gun?”

He only shook his head. “Stop messing with it, its not a toy from your training.”

“I’m not.”

Your objection was no use. You could see that smug look in his eye through the dark, peering down at you like an ant near his boot.

“Then take a practice shot, rookie.”

A nervous feeling formed in your gut at the future criticism that was bound to happen.

“We’re not authorized to fire unless its for approved force.”

Dex was almost surprised at your defiance. “I’m your superior, you can do what I say or leave. There’s not going to be any action anyways.” He sighed, putting the telescope back in the sniper case, crossing his arms over his chest with a patronizing smirk. “Now c’mon, lets see if you’re really the hot shot you think you are.”

You swallowed your pride for a moment, looking back into the scope and gripping the gun steady. You brought the sights back to the area, scanning the nearby rooftops for a target to hit.

There was a low groan of annoyance when Dex landed on his knees next to you. He took one close look at your form and position and scoffed.

“Lower.”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling your hip against the hard floor. “I can see.”

“No-” A rough hand pushed your shoulders, knocking your chest to the ground and nearly your jaw. “Here.”

You gritted your teeth to stifle the whimper at the hit to your ribs. “I got it.” You managed to hiss, nudging your shoulder to get his hand off of you.

“No, you don’t.”

Before you could fit another snide remark in, arms wrapped you— caging you to the ground and gun.

His broad forearms were on the concrete floor on both sides of you, biceps flexed and brushing against your numbing arms. Dex’s chest was hovering just above your flexed back, shifting his weight to draw closer to the scope.

His head loomed over your shoulder for his eye to reach down the sight, so close you could feel his breath on your cheek— hot and raspy. His knees were anchored to the ground next to you, the holsters and buckles of his belt dug into the side of your leg, your hip brushing his waist.

He felt close.

Way too close.

You were now pushed nearly face forward into the ground, your superior almost completely on top of you and so close you couldn’t tell if it was his heartbeat you were hearing or just the blood thundering in your ears.

You had no choice but to try and slow down your breathing and not make a noise every time you felt him touch you. You kept your eye through the lens, not even realizing his hands were reaching for yours until you felt them wrapped over the sides of the weapon.

Dex moved the gun around on the ground, just enough to find the new target as you laid there in a daze.

“Right there,” he whispered. “You see that billboard?”

You could only manage a small nod as you felt your breath catch in your throat. The large billboard was on the building parallel from you across the street, featuring a model posing in the newest collection of a fashion designer; big blue eyes peering at you through the dark night, sparsely illuminated by the bright lights on the street level.

“I want you to hit the eye, got it? Right in the middle.”

His hand brushed against yours as he reached the scope, adjusting the ring until it was in perfect focus for the distance and looking right into the model’s pupil. Rough skin cradled your own as he gently moved your loosened grip around until he decided it was right.

“Deep breath,” His right hand disappeared from your own as it reached back, gently resting on your back below the end of your vest.

The vision in the scope seemed to blur and fade away for a moment as he brushed it lower, sending a shiver straight through your body from the contact. You obeyed, stirring the night air into your nervous lungs as his hand pressed deeper into you the more you inhaled.

“Just like that.”

He assured, yet it sounded more like a growl than a whisper.

His index finger lightly applied pressure over your own, pressing on the trigger. You breathed in tandem with him, your back brushing against his tense chest as the heat between your bodies overwhelmed you more than the cold air ever did.

He let out a deep exhale against you, pushing your finger down as your body jolted against his, a shot ringing out into the night and piercing the eye perfectly in the middle.

You could finally breathe again when the sound of the shell clattered to the ground and snapped you from the trance, a sheepish smile formed on your face as you admired the perfect hit.

You pulled your eye from the scope and looked over your shoulder to suddenly become face to face with Dex.

His jaw clenched, a flicker of something raw flashing behind his eyes. The grip on your hand tightened, just slightly, like he was holding onto restraint by a thread.

A soft gaze— his dark eyes glinting with the reflections of city lights. It was out of character seeing Dex look at you like that.

He must’ve realized he was staring at your lips— his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, “Good.”

The praise lingered in your ear, whistling in the wind and reverberating in your mind.

His lips hovered inches from yours. You could feel his breath ghosting against your skin, every inhale shared in that narrow space. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to find a reason not to do it, trying to remember what lines he wasn’t supposed to cross.

But then his hand slid further down your back—deliberate, grounding, possessive.

He hated that he was stuck with you.

He hated that he was always partnered with you. He hated that he couldn’t get your body out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

He hated every single second he was near you. And he hated that he couldn’t stop himself.

Your lips brushed.

A mistake.

You gasped softly, and that was all it took—Dex’s mouth crashed into yours like he’d been starving for it, rough and hungry and angry at himself for wanting it this badly.

His hand gripped the side of your neck, tilting your jaw up and holding you like he was afraid you’d pull away, the other still pressed firmly into your back, anchoring you in place— slowly skimming lower down the curve of your spine and over your hip.

Your breath hitched and his smirk pressed into your lips.

You kissed him back just as desperately, your teeth grazed his lip— you weren’t sure if it was punishment or need—but it made him moan against you, breath hitching as he pushed you further into the rooftop floor.

A hand hooked under you, flipping you to your back and pulling you by your hips away from the edge and the gun as you struggled to regain your lost breath. Dex loomed on top of you, straddling your body with his knees on each side of your legs.

His belt clinked as he shifted above you, his weight pressing into you harshly. One hand slid up your shirt—calloused fingertips exploring every line and curve like he had to memorize, methodical and precise , just like how he handled the gun.

You moaned into his reconnecting kiss, your hands clutching into his hair.

Your conscious returned for a moment and you managed to breath out a plead.

“Dex—the mission-”

“Fuck the mission.”

He practically ripped your vest off from the sides in one brute stroke, tossing it the dusted concrete next to you.

He leaned back just enough to rip the rest of your shirt over your head, his eyes dragging over your body like you were something he couldn’t believe he’d kept his hands off this long. There was something frantic in the way he moved now—like weeks of tension had finally cracked open all at once.

His eyes stayed on you as he shrugged off his vest, tossing it next to yours and pulling his shirt off in one brisk motion. The warmth of his chest hit yours, your fingers digging down his neck to his back, pulling him against you.

A deep groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your neck, gently biting your sensitive skin as his arms hooked under your back, lifting you from the cold concrete to unclasp your bra.

A trail of heat led from your collarbones to your breasts as Dex kissed your exposed skin, fingers caressing over your peaking nipples and gripping your ribs as he trailed down your torso.

You were breathless and flushed, looking down to see Dex’s arms flexing as he manhandled you to lift your hips, tearing off your pants as you kicked off your boots in desperation.

The cold night air brushed at your bare legs, but it was nothing compared to the burn his mouth left as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the slope of your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make your pulse stutter.

Your back arched off the concrete as his hands dragged down your thighs, rough palms searing into your skin with every possessive touch as he reunited his lips to yours.

This wasn’t the same Dex from a moment ago, complete control and smooth precision—this was chaos breaking through, hungry and shaking as he grappled your body with a wet mouth and trembling hands.

You whimpered as his belt dug into the thin fabric of your panties, sending a sensitive throb in between your legs.

“Dex-” You breathed out as his hands gripped your thighs. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shut up.” He growled, spreading them wider as he pressed his hips against yours. “They’ll call if they need us. Right now, I need this.”

He looked down at you from half lidded eyes as his fingers hooked under your waistband, dragging them down as your bare legs moved to cling to his hips.

Dex grunted as he leaned back on his knees, towering over your vulnerable form as his fingers undid his belt— never breaking eye contact as he freed his straining cock, stroking the pre-cum over bulging veins.

In one swift, harsh motion he pinned your hip in place and thrusted inside of you, stealing the air from your lungs as you managed a breathless whimper, fingers digging into his tense shoulders to stabilize the blinding pressure that pierced your body. Dex began a rhythmic pace, digging deeper into you with each movement, grinding you into the ground as the silent rooftop filled with the raw noise of your bodies slamming together.

“Oh, fuck—” Your hand reached for his stomach, nails trailing down firm abs to his v-line as you clutched at his skin, palm pressing into his tense muscle.

His outstretched arm holding him up from the ground next to you buckled for a second, breath catching in his throat as he hovered closer over you.

Dex brought his mouth to yours, your moans mixing together with a sloppy kiss.

You were ruining each other, abandoning all sense of the mission to fuck each other senseless, the rooftop dissipating as his body slammed against yours. Your muscles strained to keep up with his movements, hips bucking and back arching.

His mouth bit into your neck, sucking at your pulse and hand pushing into your hip so hard you knew it would be a black bruise by morning. He was fast, desperately driving deeper to reach both your climax’s before you were caught. The anticipation was driving you mindless, resisting the impulse to let your eyes fall back by keeping them locked on Dex.

Your moans were erratic, high pitched and needy as tension in your body became overwhelming against the friction. You whimpered incoherently as your fingers clung into his shoulder, a plead to continue. He grunted as your nails dug into his skin, obeying with a sharper thrust.

You cried out as the orgasm shook through you, your hold on Dex being the only thing keeping you grounded. He groaned with his last thrusts, trembling as your pulse around his dick sending him over the edge.

Dex tore himself away, spilling hot cum over your belly and dripping down your thighs as you both struggled to catch your breath in the cold night air. Hot pants rippled through the quiet, your chests heaving as you gasped for air. Dex collapsed back onto his knees, muscles twitching and abs trembling with rapid breaths and covered with red welts left from your nails.

Your eyes locked in the dark, staring at each other in awe as you resisted regret. You swallowed, remnants of his spit trickling down your throat as his hand flinched close to your skin.

“Poindexter.”

The static of the comms tore through the silence. “We’ve got movement.”

Dex didn’t move, breath rasping as he looked down at you.

“Dex, do you copy?”

The sudden wave of shame and cold air rippled over you as Dex pulled away, harsh reality pulling you from your lust induced trance.

He switched into sniper mode in an instant, like a trained command and subconscious pull of routine. All distractions of the mission fell away.

He would curse himself for abandoning procedure, for falling through and giving in— to you.

As you breathlessly stared at the dark sky, Dex was already at the edge of the roof, pants zipped and in position, one knee down cradling the gun in his arms— eye trained down at the street.

“Suspect exiting through west side.”

He was back in his domain, grip steady— the same tight force around the gun like he’d used on you.

But metal doesn’t bruise.

He gripped it harder, forcing it down as he breathed out. A sharp roar of the gun rippled in the night. Dex jolted with the weapon, the end jabbing into his tight uncovered shoulder, red marks decorating the skin.

A yelp pierced the air from below, a man screaming echoing across the street as sirens lit up.

After a few seconds the comms crackled back on. “Nice shot, Dex. We got him.”

He lingered with the rifle, his bare back glistened with sweat in the faint light, flexed muscle trailing from his shoulders to his biceps as he moved with rapid breaths.

A finger trembled over the trigger— like it was taking everything in him to resist the urge to plunge the next shot through the bastard’s skull for so selfishly interrupting your moment.

He had to follow orders. Keep the suspect alive.

Not like he was good at following them— not when a second body laid breathlessly naked behind him.

Finally, he pulled himself from the gun, keeping his eye on the scene below, refusing to look back at you. With practiced ease he dismantled the rifle, stowing it back in the case as he retrieved his shirt and vest like nothing had ever interrupted the job.

You managed to tug your clothes back on, wincing as the fabric clung to skin smeared with cum and dirt, every movement a sharp reminder of what had just happened.

“Transporting suspect to Mass General—shot obliterated his kneecap. Recon at lobby.” The comms buzzed and clicked off.

As you clipped your vest into place, Dex loomed over you—one hand gripping the case handle, the other securing his belt with a harsh tug.

Without warning, he grabbed the strap of your vest, hauling you up with one arm until your toes barely scraped the ground.

His face lingered inches from yours, looking down at you. “You don’t tell anyone about this, got it?” He rasped, low and cold. “Not a fucking word.”

You nodded fast, breath caught in your throat before you could mutter a promise.

Then, without warning, he kissed you—sloppy and raw, more claim than affection. He pulled back just enough to flash that crooked grin.

“Good girl.”

He let you go, sending your half tied boots staggering for a grip on the floor as he brushed past you. You looked back at the empty roof, red and blue lights cascading through the dark from below, revealing the emptiness— proof nothing had ever happened.

The only evidence left now marked both of your bodies in reddening lines and darkening bruises.

You followed Dex down with a lowered head, praying he wouldn’t turn around and see your creeping blush and smile.

180 notes · View notes

beanwaterontherocks · 1 month ago

Text

Honeymoon

(An x reader version of a fic on my ao3)

Fandom: Killer Chat! Pairing: Ronin Beaufort x gn!reader Summary: You didn't know why you had been been brought into this death game situation, but all you knew was that you needed to survive. If that included teaming up with a serial killer, then so be it. Warnings: Death Game AU, Blood and gore, Murder, Self-mutilation, slightly suggestive language, Reader smokes cigarettes Word count: 5015

“Contestant 89 has been eliminated. Cause of death: Contestant 66”.

An automated, robotic voice rang through the forest. You heard the slight gasp from your companion on the other side of the campfire as you wrote the announcement down. Some people had gotten a gift from the mysterious “Game Master”, lying neatly next to them as they woke up. Yours had been a sleek, leather-bound notebook and a pen. Whoever had put this thing together must have known your profession but you didn’t know anyone who would have the funds and the insanity to do this.

“Hey, number 66 has killed a lot of people, haven't they?” Jack asked, hugging his knees to his chest. You had found him crying by the riverside 5 days into the game, he was starving and disheveled. He probably wasn’t more than a few years younger than her, but you still had this itch to help him. He had looked so hopeless, just sitting down and letting himself sob, uncaring of the dangers.

“Yeah, this is their 15th one and it’s only been 12 days, whoever they are, they really want to get out”, you answered, flipping through your diary entries. “There’s 35 dead so far and I haven’t heard of a number over 100, so we can assume there’s around 65 people left”, you said, throwing another stick into the dwindling fire. You had luckily found a small cave to hide out in for the night.

“Don’t you wanna get out?” Jack asked, grabbing a berry from your ration bag. You sighed and looked to the entrance of the cave. The forest was vast but you could catch a glimpse of the towering wall that kept all the contestants in. How far were you from Uptown? Could this be a private island?

“I do, but the rules said you just have to be the ‘last ones standing’ to win and that plural means that you can team up”, you said, shooting him a soft smile. Jack smiled back and stared into the flames.

“I overheard someone talking in the forest once, he said he saw someone being killed with a crowbar, who would be stupid enough to pick a crowbar?” Jack laughed, though his voice was shaky as he was likely pictureing how brutal that death was. Something rose up from the back of your mind, murders committed with a heavy weapon to the skull, murders you had written articles about.

It couldn’t be.

“Maybe they’re confident, not stupid”, you mused, looking over at the axe that you had chosen. Most contestants had stumbled upon a depot filled to the brim with weapons and tools. The one in your area was mostly empty, but you had been lucky enough to find an axe. It was heavy to log around, but it was useful. The tool gave you a weird comfort at night, holding it like you were a kid clinging to your teddy bear, scared of monsters in the night.

“I’ll keep a lookout tonight, you’ve done it the most, so please get some rest”, Jack said, gesturing towards the deer skin you had set up as a bed.

You looked into the flickering fire as you laid down, the axe propped up right behind you. You closed your eyes, your head thumping with the stress of your situation. No good would come of panicking, but you were by no means relaxed. The game weighed on your chest and every step you took was taken with extreme caution. You wished it hadn’t delved into chaos so quickly, then you might have found a group to rebel with. You sighed as the crackling of the fire lulled you to sleep.

“Contestant 12 has been eliminated. Cause of death: Contestant 66”.

The announcement stirred you awake, the fire hadn’t gone out so you could clearly see Jack, cutting up a small brown root with his knife. Sitting next to him was your water bottle and he had opened it.

“Jack, what are you doing?” You asked, sitting up and reaching your hand behind your back, you felt the wooden handle of your axe. Jack jumped a bit at your words, he clearly hadn’t expected you to be awake. You hadn’t slept in 2 days, so that made sense.

“Oh, I’m just…cutting up some ginger for your water, it really helps with uh…dental health, I read it in my book”, he said, though his voice had a noticeable nervous strain. You were armed with an axe, but his eyes were darting all around the cave, looking anywhere but you as he spoke. Jack’s “Game Master gift” had been a little book on plants, you had flipped through it once while he was asleep. Whatever he was holding was too light and uniform in shape to be ginger. Your mind sparked with a memory of small, white flowers outside of the cave. Your mouth went dry at your realization.

“Water hemlock…what the fuck. You’re trying to poison me!”, you exclaimed as you stood up, taking the axe with you.

Jack stood up too, holding the knife out and pointing it at you. You could see sweat start to form at his brow as his legs shook. He looked like a frightened baby deer, like he had done the day you had found him.

“You’re too calm! I started thinking…” he exhaled shakily, "what if you’re the Game Master, you seem to know everything!” you gritted your teeth as anger bubbled inside of you. You had gathered food for this guy when he was too weak to even move and you had spent days awake keeping a lookout. But he had tried to kill you, maybe you had put too much faith in him.

After all, people were being killed left and right not 2 weeks into the game and he wasn’t any different, even if you had been kind to him.

“Why would I be the Game Master, why would they play their own game?! It’s clear that they’re probably sitting in a fancy room somewhere, sipping expensive booze and getting off to us killing each other!” You yelled and Jack shrunk in on himself at your tone. “And I don’t know anything, I’m just drawing conclusions”.

“I just don’t get how you’re so calm…if we’re drawing conclusions, then you probably don’t have anyone to go back to, you don’t need to get out”, he said, suddenly leaping forward with the knife raised above his head in shaking hands. you took a step back, your heart pounding as you flipped the axe, holding by the head and using your whole weight to swing the wooden handle.

It collided with the side of Jack’s head with a thud, sending him barreling to the cave’s floor. He hit the dirt and you saw the mauve bruise blooming on his head, you crouched down and looked at his face. Luckily, he was still breathing. You hadn’t been aiming to kill him, you would like to get out of here without having to kill anyone. You felt a pang in your chest as you packed up your things. You had spent nearly a week surviving with this guy, had he really been suspicious of you the whole time? Your chest stung, guilt creeping up on you and sending your heart to your stomach.

“I’m sorry”, you spoke quietly, slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the knife from his hand.

“Contestant 28 has been eliminated. Cause of death: Contestant 70”.

You had frozen up when you heard that announcement, Jack had been contestant 28. Had he still been unconscious? It had been 3 days since you left the cave, had he been completely defenseless against number 70? He had betrayed you and let paranoia get the best of him but your heart still ached for him. He was scared and terrified when you weren't, he had done it all in fear and desperation to get home.

To blame him completely would be taking blame off of the twisted bastard who was watching them.

You peered out from the bushes, watching as a man left the cave. 70’s clothes were spotted with blood as he carried Jack’s supplies, leaving his body. Your grip on your axe tightened as your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t take that guy on, especially not since he had a gun sitting in his belt. The splatters of blood didn’t look like he had shot Jack though, the gun was probably for emergencies.

He never got the chance to draw it as a figure stepped out from the trees, raising a crowbar and swinging it right into 70’s skull. The sharp hook buried into his head, blood pouring down and coating the side of his face.

The man yelled, disoriented as his attacker pulled out the hook and swung again. That impact brought him to the ground. The assailant brought their crowbar down on 70’s head one last time, blood and bits of brain splattering onto their red pants. You could make out burgundy hair, dark eyes, a striped beanie with devil horns and a tall stature. The stench of blood filled your nostrils, making you retch slightly.

“Contestant 70 has been eliminated. Cause of death: Contestant 66”.

So 66 and the crowbar user were the same person. The way the head was violently smashed in was all too familiar. You had stared at pictures like that late at night, guzzling coffee and chasing a deadline. Your growing suspicions were confirmed as 66 began to contort the corpse’s limbs with loud, sickening cracks and drawing on the ground with his blood.

A scarlet pentagram began to take shape in the dirt. A serial killer in a death game, like a kid in a candy store. 66 stood up from his crouch and looked right at the bush you were hiding in.

“You enjoying the show, darlin’?” He asked, an amused smile stretched across his face. You cursed under your breath, he had known you were there the whole time. You stepped out, your axe slung over your shoulder.

“So you’re 66 or should I say the Devil’s Butcher”, you said, looking down at the corpse. He would have killed you straight away if he wanted to, maybe you could get out of this alive. “Not your best work, but I guess you don’t have all your tools”. He laughed as he poked the body with the tip of his boot.

“Are you a fan? I’d be happy to give you my autograph, if that’s your last wish”, he spoke, blood dripping from his crowbar. It was probably heavier than your axe, but he sure did know how to use it.

“Not a fan, I’ve just written a lot of articles about your murders, so thanks for paying my rent”, you said sarcastically, you were eerily calm in the face of this danger, more than you had been at any point of this game. Maybe this whole thing was chipping away at your sanity too but that probably would work in your favor.

“How did they manage to kidnap you? I mean you’ve eluded the police for years”, you commented. There were a few tears in his jacket and his pants were stained with both old and fresh blood. His expression turned sour, his brows furrowing.

“Dunno, I was just finishin’ up a kill and someone came at me with a syringe”, he kicked some dirt on the ground as his eyes filled with a simmering rage “I got that fucker, but there were more of them, last thing I remember is passin’ out and I’m kinda pissed”.

You nodded at his words, either the Game Master had figured out he was the Devil’s Butcher or they thought he was a random killer. Anyway, they likely wanted to spice up their game.

“Are you aiming to get out? I’d think someone like you would have fun here”, you said and immediately realized how suspicious you sounded. No wonder Jack had thought you were the Game Master. “Well, I guess the options are pretty limited here, must be constricting”, you added.

“You’re right about that, but I’m not not havin’ fun, you’re pretty relaxed though, think I’m not gonna have fun right now?” He asked teasingly, a dangerous glint in his ink-colored eyes.

“I think you would have done that already if you wanted to, I’ve got a proposition for you”, you said, lowering your axe. Your heart was beating wildly in your ears, your life was on the line every second you spent not running from him. But it thrilled you, in an odd way. There was no time to unpack that.

“Aren’t you polite, what can you offer me?” He asked, tilting his head in an exaggerated manner. you shuffled around in your bag and pulled out your notebook.

“I’ve been writing down where the people who dispose of the bodies are coming from, I might be able to find an opening in the wall”, you flipped through the pages and showed him your notes.

“I’m pissed as whoever made this whole game too, so let’s team up and find the guy”, you said., watching his face. He raised an eyebrow and ran a finger over the metal of his crowbar.

“So all you have is some notes, that’s really temptin’, I’m almost convinced”, he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. you scoffed and tucked the book away, of course he wouldn’t team up with you that easily. You were crazy to do this, but maybe you had to be a bit crazy to survive.

“I also noticed that there’s a bump under the skin on my arm, they have to be using chips to track us”, you explained as you put down your bag you pulled Jack’s knife from it as you felt around for the spot on your bicep.

“I like that they’re keepin’ score, as far as I can tell I’m top of the leaderboard”, he said, watching you curiously. “What the hell are you up to?”

“I think you know already”, you said, putting the leather strap of your bag in between your teeth as you raised the knife to your skin. “Enjoy the show, 66”, you spoke, your words muffled slightly. A searing pain shot through your arm and warm blood ran down like a creek. You bit hard on the leather as you used the tip of the knife to dig around in the wound. It was the worst pain you had ever felt, your entire arm went numb as your flaming nerves yelled at you to stop.

Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned your head to look into those dark eyes. Maybe the pain was getting to you, but you could have sworn his eyes had a glint of…some twisted form of respect.

Finally, through the horrible agony, you found something small and hard, you scooped it up and pulled out the knife. Scarlet coated your arm, the wound wasn’t big but it was deep. You panted as the wound stung even without the blade in your flesh.

“Well, would you look at that, there was a chip in there”, 66 took the knife from you, inspecting the small metal square, it had a blinking green light. “My name’s Ronin, by the way”, he said, like now was the optimal time for introductions.

“Ronin…put the…oh fuck” you hissed as you held your arm, your head was starting buzz from the loss of blood “put the chip in that corpse”. It was the last thing that left your mouth before your consciousness slipped from you, leaving you to hit the ground.

___

When you came to, you were propped up against a tree, your sore arm was banaged and you could feel some stitching under the gauze. Ronin sat next to you, a hand on his cheek as he grinned, there was an open medical kit in his lap.

“So you’re contestant 88, they announced your death when I put the chip in, they said it was a heart attack”, he explained, closing up the box. your head was reeling, as you turned to face him, your forearm was dirty with dried streaks of blood. You told him your actual name.

“I take it you wanna team up now, seeing as you didn’t leave me to bleed out”, you said, glancing at your arm. Ronin hummed in an exaggerated way.

“I think I’ll give it a shot, you seem like a little daredevil, so maybe we’ll get along”, he said, smiling and you caught a glimpse of a black tongue piercing. Looking at him up close while you were fully conscious, he was good-looking. That was a dangerous thought to have, you realized and quickly averted your gaze.

“I had a plan with all of that, it’ll be easier for me to sneak around if they think I’m dead…wait, we need to-”, you didn’t get to finish your sentence before Ronin held up your chip, it had stopped blinking after your “death”.

“Right here, don’t think I didn’t see what you were doin’, darlin’”, he spoke and you exhaled in relief. You leaned against the tree.

“That means you’ll know if I ever decide to betray you”, you stated, the blood loss clearly making you less wary of sounding suspicious. “You think I can kill you?” You asked, a slight smile on your lips. Ronin chuckled in response, a dark joy lacing his voice at your words.

“You’re a character, let’s make that deal but I have one condition” he leaned in, forcing to look at him as he whispered in your ear: “You can stand by for all of my kills here, but once we find the big boss, you’re helpin’ me kill him”.

You sat there stunned for a minute, your mind racing at 100 miles an hour. You wanted to get out without any blood on your hands…but maybe that was already too late. You had unarmed Jake, left him vulnerable and stood idly by as Ronin had killed a contestant. You were mad at the sick fuck who had orchestrated all of this, the one who had put people in a death for entertainment. You gritted your teeth as you thought about it, maybe it was doing the world a service.

“Fine, it’s a deal”, you said firmly, raising your hand for a handshake. Ronin took your hand, his fingers were cold and he held your hand tight.

___

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the guard uniform was a little big on you, but nothing too noticeable. Ronin sat by the sink, cleaning the blood from his crowbar. He handed you the security pass he had grabbed from the guard’s corpse.

“We need to be quick before they find the body”, you said, tucking back your hair and revealing a dark purple spot on your neck. Ronin’s lips turned up into a smile and you felt your face flush and heart speed up as you recalled that night. Those lips on yours and an unusual softness to the way the killer’s hands held you. His voice speaking lowly in your ear and his lips leaving the skin on your neck tingling warmly.

You shook your head as you snapped out of it, that had just been a way to relieve stress and nothing more. Even if it had been nice…comforting in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time, even before this death game.

“Aye aye captain but don’t you forget your deal with the devil”, Ronin said, walking up behind you and placing a hand on your shoulder. A memory bloomed in your mind, the look in his eyes the last time he had done that. You humored him, put your hand over his and intertwined their fingers.

“It’s not like you remind me every day with that annoying look on your face”, you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed the helmet from the side of the sink. With the visor pulled down, you looked enough like the guard to calm your nervousness a bit.

“Get out there and make me proud”, he said teasingly, giving your shoulder one last squeeze.

You flipped him off before exiting the bathroom, you spotted another guard holding a tray with a crystal carafe filled with amber liquid, a cigar box and a glass.

“Can you believe this? Bringing him his afternoon scotch isn’t in our job description”, the guard sighed. you really wondered what the description for this job looked like. You stiffened up at the casual tone though, had you gotten unlucky and ran into a friend of the guard you were impersonating?

You glanced behind you, the door to the bathroom was ajar and you spotted a peek of burgundy hair. Your nerves stilled, he was right behind you if things went south.

“How about I do it?” You asked, ready to signal to Ronin if your voice gave you away. The other guard happily handed over the tray and pointed at a door down the hall.

you took a deep breath before opening the door. The sight that greeted you was straight out of a movie, so cliché it almost made you laugh. A suit-clad man sat in a plush velvet chair, his eyes glued to a screen displaying camera footage from the forest. The TV showed a contestant brutally attacking another with a hunting knife.

“Contestant 47 has been eliminated. Cause of death: Contestant 92”.

The automated voice poured out from a speaker and the man leaned back in his seat, his hands folding behind his head. You fought back the fuming urge to break the carafe over his skull right then and there.

“You’re late, you’re lucky I drink it neat, or else the ice would have melted by now”, he spat, turning around to face you. He patted the table in front of him impatiently with a frown. Your eyes widened as you recognized the face scowling at you. Now you knew how he knew of your profession, what a petty asshole. You shoved down the anger boiling inside as you placed the tray on the table. The man crossed his arms, gesturing to the bottle as he tapped his foot. You really had to pour it for him too?

You uncapped the carafe and poured the likely expensive scotch into the glass. He grabbed it as soon as you finished, looking back at the screen and sipping the booze. you stepped towards the door, stopping at the back of his chair. Your blood rushed in your ears and your heart started beating so hard it was almost painful against your ribs.

You felt the cool blade of the knife hidden up your sleeve as you stepped closer, you had to honor your promise, you liked to think you were a person of your word.

“Would you get out already? I don’t pay you to stand around-”, his words were cut off by you grabbing his thinning hair and pulling harshly to tilt his head back. He had no time to shout for help as you brought out the knife, biting your lip in disgust as you ran the blade over his neck.

The blood poured out like a running stream, staining his crisp white shirt with deep crimson, he let out a choked sob as he dropped his glass. Crystal splintered against the floor and, as if on cue, Ronin entered the room with his crowbar slung over his shoulder.

“Simple, but a throat slit’s a classic for a reason”, he said, his smiling showing that he was all too pleased with himself. The man held his hands to his bleeding throat, choking out pleas and cries as his body convulsed. You stepped away as Ronin took his sweet time sauntering over, eyes gazing at the wound. He looked overjoyed, like you had gotten him a present that he had always wanted.

“The knife is short, stabbing him would have taken too long”, you rationalized, pocketing the damp knife. Ronin crouched down to the man, reaching out and grabbing his chin, the motion made the wound gape like a red maw.

“Did I put on a good show, sir?” Ronin asked mockingly, the man’s eyes welled up with tears as he nodded, hoping it would please the Devil’s Butcher. “Aw thanks, how about you get a live performance this time?” He asked before letting go and swinging his crowbar to the man’s head.

He did it again.

And again.

you could only watch the wall as the white was splattered with blood and dark bits of brain matter. You heard the disgusting cracks and squishing as Ronin beat his accumulated anger into the man’s skull.

“Ronin, I said we had to hurry, I think he died on the second strike”, you said, listening as the sounds stopped, Ronin walked up behind you, his shoes splashing in the blood. He rubbed his chin like an art critic as he looked at the wall. Ronin reached out and dipped his fingers into the blood, drawing lines on the plaster until there was a dripping crimson pentagram on the wall.

“As my biggest fan, what do you think of this?” He asked teasingly as he glanced at you. You shoved him and turned around to hide the smile you couldn’t believe was on your face

“I think we need to get out of here”.

Ronin walked over to the corpse and reached into his pocket. He pulled a pair of car keys with a shining Mercedes logo on them and jingled them with a wide grin.

___

“I knew the guy, he was CEO, I wrote an article about claims of OSHA violations in one of his factories”, you spat as the two of you sat in the 6-figure car, getting blood all over the cream seats. Ronin tapped his finger against the steering wheel, in tune with the song on the radio.

“Hey cheer up, you’re like a martyr now”, he laughed, looking over the empty, dark highway.

“Since I have to spend 12 hours in a car with you? Fuck yeah I am”, you said, glancing out of the window.

You had opened the door to the control building and announced over the intercom that the contestants were free. Maybe some were pissed at their ruined chances for the cash prize. You hoped they all found their way home though, but right now you were exhausted. For the first time in weeks, you truly felt like you could relax. The only thing that was missing was a…

You looked to Ronin, who was holding a cigar out towards you, like he had read your mind. “Ronin! Stealing cigars, I’m so disappointed in you”, you said, chuckling as you took it. Just your luck, there was a lighter in the glove compartment. You took a drag of the expensive tobacco, the smoke filling lungs, burning in the way you loved.

But you definitely preferred your cheap cigarettes. You handed him the cigar, he hadn’t said anything about being a smoker, but he took a drag nonetheless. “How does the fruit of your labor taste?” You asked as he handed it back to you. You rolled down the window to let the smoke pour out.

“It sucks, let’s get some food, I’m so sick of fucking berries”, He said, glancing at a sign advertising a chain diner a few miles ahead. You just now noticed how hungry you were. You hadn’t had a proper meal in a while. All that was available in the forest were fruits and the occasional wild game.

“I was thinking blueberry pancakes actually”, you said, pulling out a wallet filled with cash from the glove box.

“I’m gonna get apple pie”, Ronin stated, the red lights of the diner shining in the distance on the highway exit.

“That’s not a breakfast food, but I guess you deserve it”, you said, looking at the clock that read 4AM.

“Shit, a compliment from you, darlin’? You’re makin’ me blush!” He said as they pulled into the parking lot. You rolled your eyes and opened the car door.

“That’s just blood, wipe that off before we go inside”.

The two of you sat in the virtually empty restaurant in a comfortable silence as you scarfed down your food like starving hyenas. You felt cold fingertips against your hand under the table, you looked to Ronin, who only answered with a smile. You sighed and held his hand, but your heart warmed as he squeezed it softly.

You would make it back to Uptown and ditch the car on the way. You reached into your back pocket and placed your notebook and pen on the table.

“You finally want that autograph?” Ronin asked as he grabbed the book.

“Write whatever you want, I just wanted a keepsake from this”, you spoke as you took another bite of your pancakes.

Once he was done scribbling, he slid the book back to you. You read the words with a raised brow. “What’s ‘killrch8t_b00t.mango?” You asked, you had expected his phone number or at least a signature.

“You’ll find out when we get home, I’m sure you’ll fit right in”.

___

SLAUGHTERHOUSE_LOSERS

@ goreboy:

rejoice losers, your resident Devil has crawled his way outta hell

@ Angelic:

Ronin! What happened? You haven’t been active for weeks and when I went to your place you weren’t there! I looked everywhere for you. God, I’m so relieved.

@ K9:

Your absence has been most puzzling, attempting to track you became entirely impossible. I am however pleased that you did not die before being brought to justice.

@ hitmeuppp:

holy shit i thought you were dead or something

glad to have u back tho

@ goreboy:

Aw thanks for The warm Welcome

i hope you’ll show my new Friend the same Hospitality

@ Angelic:

What do you mean?

@ goreboy:

welcome the Newly Christened @MC

@ MC:

Ronin? What is this?

@ goreboy:

Go Introduce yourself And Let’s tell Them all about our Little Honeymoon darlin

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #ronin x reader #ronin beaufort #ronin beaufort x reader #killer chat vn #x reader #visual novel #dating sim

104 notes · View notes

frillydolle · 3 months ago

Note

Hiiii dolle! ۶ৎ

Hope ur well <3 My thought of the day is Fire Lookout Arthur Morgan helping a lost young lady in the woods or talking through the radio to his fellow fire lookout lady friend all night long bc neither of them sleep well ♡ I've been thinking about it all day

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 epilogue spoilers　 older!arthur morgan　 mid to low honor arthur　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

“anyone there?...”

arthur has been living alone ever since the whole micah situation. everyone had their own lives by now but sometimes he felt lonely since hes now on his own; john and abigail were now married, sadie was a bounty hunter, and the other women had a life of their own. hell, mary-beth became a well-known author. he even bought some of her novels even if they weren't much to his taste.

only now, the age was getting to him. his hair was now speckled with black and white like salt and pepper, his wrinkles were more prominent than beofre, grunts and groans would leave his lips if he's been bending or sitting down for too long due to his back. he didn't mind it too much, he just wanted some company. he missed the gang sometimes, the lively chatter and laughter since it was home.

in recent years, he has never heard a voice through the radio, not one peep. it was forever him, the fire lookout tower and the forest that surrounded him and he'd never complain about nature. hell, his journal is filled with sketches and doodles that he's seen on his travels. it's always been silent. but oh, the way his heart skipped a beat, hearing your sweet through the radio... you seems real kind. who was he to not help a pretty sounding girl like you?

“..hi there, miss. y'alrigh?”

“oh, thank god! i was starting to get nervous.. i think im lost, sir.”

you were a silly girl getting yourself in a situation like that. the region of roanoke ridge wasn't always safe, the dangers of the animals before thirst or starvation got to you first. either way, it was still odd that a soft-spoken girl like.

“i was meetin' my friends on the other side, but i got lost, im not sure what to do.. could you help me? im really hungry..” “i'll do my best to, miss.”

he heard you sigh a relief, the sounds of sticks and leaves being stepped on with every move, the gentle breeze of the wind in the background every time you spoke. you just sound so pretty. he was a little excited to have company again after so long.

“y'see that fire lookout anywhere?”

silence.

“yes! i see it!” you say with an exciting tone, seeing him wave. you waved back, unsure if he could even see you. oh, you were so relieved, you finally saw someone after hours of being lost. you almost had to pinch yourself just to make sure he was real.

and he was real. he was ready to help you.

“make yer way over 'nd ill met ya halfway.”

#🎀reqsೀ #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fic #rdr fic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr fanfic

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noisykk · 6 months ago

Note

So what is Sylus exactly and why is Fenir MIA?

A week after being officially declared missing, Feynir was located while conducting a routine patrol in the forest. She was promptly escorted back to the management office, where she asserted that she had checked in daily without fail and had consistently received confirmation from her colleagues at headquarters, denying that she had ever gone missing. Subsequently, Feynir was reassigned from the fire lookout tower to a position at the local management office.

Feynir’s missing status is temporary. Sylas has the ability to disrupt magnetic fields and has deliberately prevented rescue teams from locating her. Each morning, when Feynir finishes her check-in, the voice coming through the radio is also fake. She is unaware that Sylas has been interfering with the signal.

#oc #oc art #my art #original character #monster lover

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earthsparked · 20 days ago

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Sparking Flames

Part Three | one two three four intermission five (AO3 link)

You never catch a glimpse of what's in the woods with you, but you can feel it the entire time. You've never been this frightened, for this long. It's wearing on you, wearing you out. Sooner or later your stumbling footsteps are going to trip you up, the bed of leaf litter becoming the last place you'll ever lie down. Just because you haven't seen the predator, doesn't mean it's not there.

The woods are still silent, deathly so, but for the rasp of your breathing and soft padding of your footsteps. You try and muffle them best you can, walking on moss, walking heel-toe, but the trail is poor and several times you end up having to cut through thorny vines that add painful, bloody scratches to your tally of wounds. You're starting to think the noise you're making just to breathe isn't quite right, either, and the stitch in your side isn't only from the road rash. Just how much dust did you inhale, and what was in that smoke?

You can only vaguely worry about it, because your worry-ometer hit redline a while back. Now there's only one thought driving you forward, the need to get to the fire watch tower. There should be people there with a first aid kit, and a radio that can call for help.

Call who, exactly, you don't even know. That feels like a question too big for your addled brain to answer. You're not precisely a fan of the military, and even less so when you imagine what's left of your little town being overrun by people in camo and – probably – threatening you all with the biggest non-disclosure agreement of all time. But someone with access to firepower ought to be involved here? You think? Though what kind of weapons would it take to cut through the thick armor you'd held onto for dear life, to bring down the giant that had towered over you? You thought of what that giant gun could do if it were turned on humans, and shuddered despite your exhaustion. Shit. You might just end up getting more people killed.

But, that robot had been kind. Humane, you'd say. And your country's military isn't all that discriminating when faced with possible threats. All those sci-fi movies about alien invasions, probably said something about humanity. Maybe the attack proved those fears correct. Or maybe not.

These heavy thoughts roiled without a good answer through your tired mind, until suddenly you became aware of a change in the light. The trees were growing thinner, more light coming through. The path you were on began to grow more evident. It was clear that someone had been maintaining it better, here. You picked up the pace with excitement, hurrying as best you could, which admittedly was a limping speed. There would be water at the tower, and humans, and help. You heaved a sigh of relief when at last you put the trees to your back, and stepped out with a crunch on the gravel spread around the base of the fire watch tower. It was still a bit of a walk, the tower perched high above and away from the trees to protect it from wildfire. But you were so close.

Strange, you thought vaguely, that nobody had called out to you on your approach. Surely they'd been able to see you coming? That was, after all, the purpose of these towers. Keeping an eye out for fires and helping hikers on occasion.

There was only perhaps fifty feet between you and the laddered stairs that would take you up to the lookout, perched high above. You groaned at the thought of having to climb it; you'd never liked heights.

Twenty feet, ten. You hands hit the stairs. You cried a little, leaning on them. And then you pulled your hands away. They were wet with blood. There was more staining the ground beneath your feet, as if it had dripped down the stairs.

Crunch.

The noise from behind you made you spin around, expecting to see a forest ranger. A metal mountain lion stepped out from the trees onto the gravel. It was far, far larger than any flesh and blood mountain lion, and unlike the robots back in town, its movements were silent but for the sound of its paws on the gravel. You couldn't hear a single noise coming from its metal body, otherwise. Its eyes were red and its armor smooth silver, with accoutrements that your panicked gaze skimmed over without a hope of identifying what they were for.

Well, well. You've reached the end of the road, little glitch-mouse.

It has a smooth, rumbling voice that's oddly even, perhaps a little amused. That it can talk at all is not even that surprising, after the day you've had, but that it hasn't instantly sprung upon you and ripped your throat out is pretty surprising, actually.

You try to stay calm. Maybe this one is friendly, too?

H-hello. I need help. I'm hurt. Where are the forest rangers? Did one of them get hurt, too? I...there's blood on the stairs, you say, your voice rough and parched.

(You'll have to forgive yourself later for the stupid question. Blame it on dehydration and exhaustion and trauma. Maybe a little on your optimistic nature.)

The metal mountain lion moves even more smoothly and slickly than a real cat, flowing like mercury. It flexes its claws as it prowls closer to you. It laughs, and it's as strange to hear a cat laugh as it is to hear it coming from a robot.

There is no help for you here.

Its ears flick to the side suddenly, and it bares its fangs in a hiss at something in the distance. It takes a second for your lesser hearing to catch up, but when it does, you recognize the sound of a roaring engine. The sound of trees cracking. A voice yelling, distant but coming closer.

Sparklet? Your planet is absolute slag! Why are there so many trees? Why are they so sticky?! Humaaan! Where are youuuu?

Something ticks over in your brain.

You lunge for the slippery rungs of the ladder stairs while the metal cat is distracted. You manage to get up the first few before sharp claws crash into the wood, splintering it. You scream hoarsely, and in the distance hear more yelling.

IS THAT YOU?! HOLD ON, I'M COMING!

You have to hold on. You scramble up a few more steps, your injuries protesting every inch. The metal cat yowls, its tail flicking angrily as it takes another leap. You see gouges in the stairs - this isn't the first time the thing had hauled itself up the tower, but the weight had damaged the structure. When it tries again, the bottom half of the stairway cracks apart just below your feet and falls, sending the metal cat crashing to the gravel with splinters of broken wood raining down on it. You make such an effort that you're sure you've just pulled both shoulders out of joint, and heave yourself to lie on the platform. You scramble back under the huge windows, panting. The setting sun paints the glass behind you a bloody golden-red.

No, you realize. It's not the sun. Shaking, you drag yourself to your feet and slam through the door to the fire watch tower. You wish you hadn't. You wish you hadn't gotten out of bed this morning. You wish you'd stayed under that brick wall.

You've found the rangers, or what's left of them. A shattered window on the rear side of the tower tells the tale, bloody pawprints marking the scene. That thing had gotten in here.

The tower shakes and you cry out, grabbing onto - oh, thank heavens. It's a radio. Or, it has to be. But it's not really like what you'd imagined it to be. It looks almost military in design. Shiny black, taking up a huge space, lots of fancy dials and digital displays. The fire service must have gotten some grant money to upgrade its equipment. Good for them, but - how are you supposed to figure this thing out?!

As the cat continues doing whatever the fuck it's doing, probably trying to tear down the tower to get to you, you mash buttons and tap the touchscreen and flip through the menus that make absolutely no sense.

Hello? Anyone! Can anyone hear me? Please, I need help, I'm at the tower on Cavern Ridge, there's a metal monster trying to get to me! I know this sounds crazy, but it chased me up here!

You repeat it over and over, babbling almost, sending it out over whatever connection the machine can find. Then you duck as one of the windows shatters, a glimpse of something flashing and red and - did that god damn metal cat just shoot a laser at you?!

But somehow, some way, for once something goes right for you today.

<Tower, we read you. Is this a civilian?> a voice demands. <What kind of metal monster? Describe it. >

You've never been so damn happy to hear another human voice in your entire life. As you stammer a response to the man on the radio, you realize the shaking has stopped.

Oh shit, you say, utter dread filling you. The tower is rocked by a massive explosion. You squeal and press yourself under the desk where the radio is located, trying not to feel sick at the blood getting on your already filthy clothes, trying not to think about the hundreds of feet of the cliffside drop that awaits should the tower tumble off its perch.

But then -

RAVAGE! Pick on someone your own size, you fragger!

It's your robot. You lean up to sneak a look at it, down in the clearing. It's covered in pine needles and sap, its gorgeous orange-and-red flaming bright armor now looking more like a greenish porcupine. Or maybe a ghillie suit. It would be very funny if you weren't simply so relieved to see it no matter what condition it's in.

Even better, it's now standing between your perch and the giant metal cat. Ravage? That's its name? Your robot's arm has turned into a gun and is smoking.

The cat, though, hisses but doesn't attack. It faces the bigger robot as if it doesn't care a single bit about being held at gunpoint.

<What is that?> the voice on the other end of the radio demands. You don't even know how to begin to explain. When it shouts to you, <Civilian?! Answer me!> You stammer out that there's another robot now, fighting the cat.

<Fucking aliens.> There's true venom in the words, and you hear a shuffle in the background. Another voice comes on the radio, calm and firm, but you don't catch his name right away because the robots are talking. Loudly.

What are you even doing here? Where's that creeper Soundwave, is he lurking too?

Ravage flicks out a paw and licks blood off it, unconcerned. Maybe. More to the point, what are the Autobots doing here? I don't suppose you're looking for the same thing we are.

Looking for something...? You remember, you think, the robot had asked you something similar. Do they not even know? Somehow the thought that this could all have been a matter of confusion makes you feel like throwing up. All this violence and bloodshed, and for what?

Something sparks inside you, pop rocks and coke, bubbling up in hurt and anger. You want to know what all of this is about. You want answers for all this suffering, damn it.

The radio makes noise again, and this time it's the calmer man. <We have your position. Stay where you are. A team is already on its way to intercept, ETA twenty minutes.>

Um, thank - thank you. Who is this? You realize you didn't even ask. What team? I'm hurt, and there's...I'm sorry, but your rangers are dead.

<Rangers?> the first voice asks, confused, and the second voice hushes him. <Stay where you are,> the man says again, and then there's nothing.

The metal cat must have unnaturally good hearing indeed, because it looks up directly at you. It heard that communication. The cat turns and begins to slink back into the woods, ignoring the other robot's demands that it stop.

You are a fool, and I will give you one warning. They are coming. Take your human and run, or they will kill them, and do far worse to you. You are incompetent enough that your loss would be a boon for the Autobots.

Then it's gone. The robot lowers its gun and scratches its helmet. Now what the frag did he mean by that -?

Um, hey? Robot? You stand up and edge carefully through the door, glad to get some fresh air. So glad to see your robot.

It turns and looks up at you and smiles, so full of relief and joy that it almost makes up for the terror of this shitshow of a day. You're not sure, actually, the last time someone was so happy to see you.

It holds its hands up to the tower, and without a second thought you climb into them. Your second ride in its hands is much less frightening than the first. And includes a lot more pine sap, to add to your filthy clothes.

I found you! it declares in wonder, bringing you close to its chest. Physically you feel warm, safe, but deep inside you're uneasy. It seems to sense it, because it frowns. Can giant robots read your mind?

What's wrong? it asks, and you shake your head and stammer, scanning the skies for the appearance of rotor blades.

I'm sorry. I called for help. But something doesn't feel right.

You expect - you're not sure what, from the robot. To not be believed, maybe. To be discounted, ignored. Instead the giant vents hot air, cups you to its chest more securely, and makes for the cliff.

None of this slag has been right. Ravage is a cryptic fragger at best, but he's less of a bastard than most of the 'Cons. He wouldn't give a turbofox's tailpipe about killing some organics out in the middle of nowhere. Something's going on here. I gotta get back to the others. These trees of yours took out my shortwave radio antenna, and something around here's blocking my comms. I can't talk to the mechs back at town.

They're not my trees, you protest, bringing a glimmer of amusement to the robot's blue..eyes?..that reminds you just how human-like its expressions are. But you have no time to ponder that.

They weren't forest rangers, you say, hurriedly, emphatically. They're dead, in the tower, but they weren't rangers. I don't know who the people I talked to are, but they told me to stay here. And they're sending a helicopter. If that cat wasn't lying, then... You let your voice trail off, feeling absolutely horrible.

They'll kill them and do far worse to you, it had said.

What have you done?

The robot shakes its head. Yeah, no. The rangers are all in town, helping with the recovery. The guys all in green? I saw 'em. Whoever you saw, it wasn't them. Which means we gotta GO.

You stammer another apology that turns to a frightened yelp as it swings around, grabs onto the rocky cliff face with one hand, and begins doing the worst parkour you've ever seen in your life. With you along for the ride. Once again there's an unknown enemy breathing down your neck, but at least this time, you're not alone.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers first contact au #human distribution system #hot rod x reader

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qwimblenorrisstan · 9 months ago

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ParkRanger!Reader and Hybrid!141 Hc’s

This can really be interpreted as platonic or romantic, depending on how you look at it, but I just think it would be hilarious to be a fire lookout or one of those people who stays in the tall towers in a park for months on end.

Sure, maybe some of the wildlife was a bit too friendly, but that was just normal, right?

Like that burly bear that lived in a cave nearby, occasionally migrating, but never attacking you when you accidentally crossed its path. It got along oddly well with the other wildlife, well, except for the other male bears, who seemed to not respect its territory. You’d nicknamed it “Price”, because of how much money the park had to pay each year due to the bear mauling the electrical system sometimes.

Or the buck that would wander around sometimes, one of the prettiest deer you’d ever seen in all honesty. It was a wonder it hadn’t been devoured by some other animal yet. But it would sometimes let you give it secret little pets, even if the park discouraged any interaction with wildlife. You’d nicknamed it “Gaz”, because of the incident where it had gotten into a barrel of gas for your generator, and you’d had to rush it to a local vet.

The shaggy stray wolf that hung around was a bit odd, too. Blond fur hidden underneath grey and black patches, with keen eyes that you seldom noticed before it moved. It never let you pet it, but sometimes in the middle of the night, you’d be out on a trail, and you both would catch eyes. Or it would give little growls in warning to you, of whatever else lurked these woods. You’d nicknamed it “Ghost”, for obvious reasons.

And last, but certainly not least of your strange menagerie of animals, was the honey badger. It looked normal, other than some strange spots of hair sticking up that looked like some larger animal had tried to groom it. It snarled at anything, but as long as you didn’t get too close, it would happily trail behind you on whatever path you were taking for work. It was mischievous too, getting into your food and belongings in your backpack. You’d nicknamed it “Soap”, because, in the middle of the night, you’d woken up to find the thing in your tower, drinking some liquid soap. It had run before you’d gotten it to a vet but seemed fine a few days later.

Your odd little group of animal friends seemed weird, obviously, but you’d just chalked it up to them being exposed to park rangers and humans more often than normal wildlife. That was, until, one night you went out late to fix your generator that had run out of gas, only to hear footsteps crunching behind you, and whirling just in time to see a middle-aged man you’d given a fine earlier for setting off fireworks in the forest, holding a thick log, ready to smack you with it.

Rather, he was going to smack you with it, before he was tackled to the ground, and multiple fists began beating him into the dirt.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching as four men, bare as the day they were born, slowly got off the unconscious man’s body.

One shorter man with a mohawk, one pretty one with browned skin, a taller one with a gruff beard, and the tallest, a grumpy-looking man who was built like a brick wall. They stared back, at least moving to cover themselves for your sake before the man with a mohawk and a stupid grin on his face spoke.

“Been wanton’ to bea’ his head in for a while.”

His chin jerked to the unconscious man, now bleeding everywhere in the grass.

You sighed, knowing that you were in for a long night.

(might write a fic for this?? lmk if I should)

#writers on tumblr #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap x reader #soap cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #captian price #captian john price #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick

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farsight-the-char · 3 months ago

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++ THE IRON WALL ++

- Art by Artem Demura

.. They said: “O Dhu al-Qarnayn! Lo! Gog and Magog are spoiling the land. So may we pay thee tribute on condition that thou set a barrier between us and them?” He said: “That wherein my Lord hath established me is better than your tribute. Do but help me with the strength of men, I will set between you and them a bank. “Give me pieces of iron” - till, when he had levelled up the gap between the cliffs, he said: “Blow!” - till, when he had made it a fire, he said: “Bring me molten copper to pour thereon.” “And Gog and Magog were not able to surmount, nor could they pierce it.” He said: “This is a mercy from my Lord; but when the promise of my Lord cometh to pass, He will lay it low, for the promise of my Lord is true.” - Surah Al-Kahf

...

More lore under the cut

Anchored by the Taurus Mountains to the North and Zagros Mountains in the East, the two horns of the crescent moon, the Invincible Iron Wall of Dhu al-Qarnayn is both the symbol of the Sultanate and the very reason for its existence. Beyond it lies the last and the greatest realm of Those Who Believe. Easily eclipsing all other known Wonders of the World, none who have seen the Iron Wall can ever forget it. Despite centuries of artillery bombardment by Heretic cannons, its surface is untarnished, glittering like a newly-cast steel plating in the morning sun, and at night the manyfold gemstones embedded into its very structure light up in a wondrous show of colour and artistry. Neither the Wall itself nor its gates have ever been brought down, and while some enemies have made it across the Wall to spread death and terror deep into the Sultanate proper, they have always been thrown back.

At regular intervals stand towers and bulwarks erected by the sultans of both past and present, specifically constructed to support the long-range artillery of the Imperial School of Military Engineering. The great spires act as both lookouts as well as minarets for calling the believers to salah five times a day. These constructions, mighty as they may be, are not nearly as durable as the Invincible Iron Wall. They are often under repairs or being rebuilt due to the horrendous damage Heretic artillery and long-range bombers inflict upon them. There are four Great Gates (as well as many lesser ones) roughly corresponding to the four cardinal directions. Each holds a great garrison commanded by a sanjaq-bey (‘Lord of the Standard’) responsible for the security and protection of the trade routes beyond. Despite their formidable constructions, the Sultan’s Pashas know that if one of the Four Gates was ever taken, the Sultanate would be in mortal peril. Thus it is not just Janissaries and a host of Azebs and Sappers that guard the Great Gates, but instead each entrance is also guarded by two takwin creatures of truly colossal proportions: winged beasts with eyes keener than those of any hawk and claws that can tear a Heretic tank in half with a single swipe. Their form was chosen in honour of the legendary buraq that once carried the Prophet. They are not only there to protect the Gates with physical force but also with their wit.

Created with keen intellect, the buraq takwin tests the travellers to the Sultanate with subtle but deeply sagacious perspicacious questions and riddles, exposing Heretic infiltrators and weeding out those who would bring harm to the Believers. Due to their intelligence, the takwin guardians are well-aware of the artificial nature of their being, suffering from the knowledge of their unnatural existence. It is said that they are created as pairs not only for their might but also that they could give solace to each other with deep philosophical discussion and sophisticated poetry, alleviating the pain of their existential horror - for they were created by a man and not by God, and thus can hold no hope of salvation. When there are no passersby travelling through the Gate, their low, rumbling voices echo across the wall as they debate the meaning of the ninety-nine names of Allah, the nature of love or past battles they have engaged in the many years of their existence. Creation and maintenance of even one of these mighty beasts costs the Sultan the yearly income of an entire nāḥiyah, and occupies the finest cadre of the Alchemists of the House of Wisdom for a better part of seven years. It is a price the Sultan is glad to pay for the protection of his people. The bountiful blessings of the Iron Wall are not limited to mere physical protection from the forces of Shaytan: the scholars of the House of Wisdom have laboured for decades to create machines to help maintain and regulate the precipitation within the lands of the Believers, as well as making Sultanate air space exceedingly hard for Heretic aerial forces to harry, due to the high winds that often whip above the spires of the Iron Wall. Here, wondrous devices trap the passing gales and storms, using them to guard their air space against Hell-bombers and long range reconnaissance planes.

#trench crusade #the iron sultanate

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that-girl-from-nicu · 1 month ago

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Saving the Saviour - Part 4

Stars collide

Song inspo: By Your Side - J Seasons (Robby slow danced with you at midnight one time with this playing. It was the first time he told you he loved you)

Warnings: fluff. $ex in nature. A diamond ring. Fire (contained campfire). Robby being an absolute dreamboat of a man.

Scene: fem reader and Robby head to his cabin for a few days of blissful escape, and become closer than ever before.

"I read there's a meteor shower tonight", Michael spoke over your road trip playlist, pulling your attention from the beautiful forest scenery out the passenger window of his truck.

"Oh yeah?"

"I thought instead of the hike, we could take my truck up to the lookout and watch it from the flatbed". He had one hand on the steering wheel and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze with the other.

"Ooo you could build us a little fire to make hot chocolate and s'mores!" You leaned across the seat to plant a kiss on his cheek as he leaned into you, "shirtless please" your murmured in his ear.

----

The ride from your shared apartment to his cabin in the woods took a little more than two hours. Michael kept his hand on your thigh the entire way, occasionally thumbing the fabric of your shorts or playing with the hem.

That was just one of the many things about Michael that you loved; whenever you were in his reach, he would make contact with you absent-mindedly. Lightly grazing your ass with his fingers as he walked past you in the kitchen. Cupping the small of your back with one hand while you bushed your teeth together in the bathroom. Lazily drawing circles on your arm as you cuddled up watching a movie on the couch. It wasn't sexual, it was a reflex. It was adoring. It was a need for him and a want for you.

---

You pulled up to the cabin at four in the afternoon. Tyres on gravel announcing your arrival to the vacant premises.

Michael grabbed your bags and you unlocked the door. The inside of the cabin was like the inside of Michael's mind. Sophisticated but down to earth. Rugged wood and leather furniture. Home printed, half-read medical journals making appearances on small tables and the kitchen bench. The bed was creaky but the mattress was like a cloud.

You opened the windows to let in the beautiful, clean air. Michael met you at a window as you took in the view of the woods. One arm slipped around your waist and he pulled your hair from your neck and kissed it. "I love bringing you here".

"It's beautiful", you turned in his arms and rose to your toes to kiss his lips.

"So are you", his hand cupped your cheek and he returned the kiss right back to you.

-----

It was unspoken that you'd be sleeping the night under the stars. You packed Michael's truck together. A blow up mattress, blankets, lanterns, match sticks and other various supplies for the night ahead.

You left together for the ten minute drive an hour before sunset. The bumpy, steep terrain making you grateful that Michael had cancelled the hike.

The truck came to a stop at an open clearing. You stepped out, totally unprepared for the sight in front of you.

Rolling hills covered in redgum trees. A lake below glistening in the late afternoon sun.

You turned to Michael. "What do you think?" he asked, but you couldn't reply.

He walked to you with a smile on his face, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stared into his brown eyes with him towering over you.

"Speechless. Never thought I'd see the day" he laughed as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I'm going to start us a fire before the sun goes down" he said, stepping back from you and removing his slate grey v-neck tshirt, eyes filled with a slight heat. You placed your hands on his chest, thrilled by the feeling of his muscular front. Moving your hands down to trace the 'V' at his waist with your thumbs, you gave a light kiss to his sternum and walked to the truck to prepare set up for the night.

You'd made something of a bed throne within fifteen minutes and you were pretty impressed with yourself. You turned to face Michael and a heat filled your belly at the sight of him. The sun was setting and he was chopping wood. His strong arms raising above his head, coming crashing down to cut the wood with the sharp axe as one bent leg held the log in place. He was God-like. Chiselled from something heavenly.

You sat on the tailgate, elbows on your knees and chin in your palms, dreamily watching your man work to keep you both warm tonight.

----

The fire was crackling as the last slither of sunlight sunk behind the mountains. Michael's washed jeans hung at his hips, secured by the brown leather belt that matched his eyes. The waistband of his boxers peaked over the top of the denim, and you felt like a lusting teenager again.

He walked toward you, still sitting on the tailgate, and handed you a warm mug of hot chocolate before leaning his hip against the truck and taking a sip of his own.

It was delicious. Michael was proficient in the kitchen which was sexy as hell but also incredibly fortunate, as a skilled vet could have saved the roast chicken you attempted to cook that one time. You both spent forty-eight hours with your heads in the toilet and he made you promise never to cook again.

The hot chocolate warmed your insides, but so did Michael's eyes on you. There was something extra endearing about the way he looked at you that night.

The sky turned pitch black, save for the speckled stars and the moon which he had obviously hung high in the blackness just for you.

Michael lay on his back on the mattress, and you lay with your head on his stomach, knees bent and feet resting on the edge of the truck tray. One of his fingers found your collarbone and gently traced it.

You were looking at the stars but he was looking at you. You turned to meet his eyes "this is perfect," you said with love.

"Mmm. Almost perfect. There's something missing". His eyes searched yours and his hand slipped into his pocket, returning with that small, blue, velvet box just out of your sight.

"What's missing?" you asked as your heart fluttered a little, wondering if this was the moment.

"Your answer", he said as he bought the box into your field of vision and flicked it open with his thumb.

You sat up, and so did he. He scooted closer behind you, swept back your hair, kissed your shoulder and bought his hands around you, holding the ring in front of you. You turned your head to meet his eyes on yours. Those beautiful dark brown eyes filled with equal parts hope and fear, and slightly damp. Tears built in your own eyes.

"Love was just a word to me, until you gave it meaning three years ago. I love you. You are the best thing that has ever been mine. Will you be my wife?"

Tears spilled from your eyes and your lips met his in the most beautiful kiss; tender and warm and life changing. He tasted like that perfectly made hot chocolate.

"I'd love to if you'll have me", you said quietly and with such warmth that Michael melted into your forehead.

He took the ring from the box and carefully slid it onto your finger where it fit snugly as though it was made for you. It was beautiful. Unique. Delicate but strong. It had a romantic feel and a solid weight to it. The diamonds sparkled in the light of the moon and you shared another gentle kiss with Michael.

He broke the kiss and again reached into his pocket, a little unsure of himself this time as he fumbled to find the words while rubbing the back of his neck. "Dana told me NICU nurses can't wear rings. If you do want to wear it, I thought it might look nice on this chain", he offered you a small box, and you opened it to find a fine necklace.

"You are so thoughtful", you said, taking the necklace from the box and securing it around your neck.

"The ring should sit roughly at the centre of your heart", he said with a boyish smile.

You laid down together again, this time your head in the nook between his shoulder and his neck. The soft, warm spot that you swore heaven had created just for you. Your hand found the other side of his neck and you stayed there together, swapping loving strokes on each other as you watched the stars shoot across the sky.

Thirty minutes had passed in blissful silence. Everything had been said. Nothing remained but your two hearts beating in sync and the crackle of the camp fire twenty feet away.

"Now THIS is perfect", Michael broke the silence with a kiss on your head.

"Mmm, not quite", you quickly rose from his chest and swung a leg over him, lifting your tshirt off in one smooth action.

Michael looked at you hungrily but with extreme love in his eyes. He sat up to capture your lips in a kiss. "What on earth could make this more perfect?", he kissed into your neck.

You grabbed his hair and pulled him to meet your eyes, no space between you.

"Me riding you under the stars wearing nothing but my ring and necklace?"

Michael's eyes darkened and in no time at all, you were both bare. Your skin cool from the night air, Michael's hands warmed small areas as he began exploring you. You returned to straddling him, pushing him onto his back and met with surrender from him.

Michael's eyes scanned your body. The light of the moon and of the fire combining to soak you in a glistening, heavenly hue.

His hands found your hips and helped guide you onto him. Pleasure ripped through both of your bodies as you stretched around him and took his full length. You stayed there for a moment, to allow yourself to accommodate him fully. Slowly, your hips started gliding back and forth, finding the friction you needed against Michael.

His eyes closed gently, head tilted slightly back as you controlled the pace to build the tension. Small grunts escaped his lips intermittently, and eventually he sat up, bringing his head to your chest. You kissed his temple and his mouth found one of your nipples, delighting you with the wet warmth of his tongue.

Dual fever built in you both and he wrapped an arm around your waist to tether you to him. His head buried into you shoulder and your head fell back where your eyes caught a shower of shooting stars above you.

Michael's breathing became erratic, and his spare hand reached to the bundle of nerves at your front, lavishing the spot with pulsating pressure. You moaned his name into the night sky and he proclaimed his love for you as you both fell over the edge together while the world stood still.

The gentle rock of your hips slowed and stopped. Michael's head rested between your breasts, gentle kisses soothing you as you came down from your high.

You collapsed with him onto the mattress in the back of his truck and he pulled a blanket over the both of you before claiming you in his arms and kissing your forehead. This was peak bliss.

Both of you had your eyes fixed on the sky minutes later. Shooting stars played recklessly above you as the camp fire lost the last of its glow nearby.

You drifted off to sleep, warm and secure in Michael's firm embrace. He smiled as he ran his finger over your engagement ring, and thanked that stars that you were his before closing his eyes and nuzzling into your hair, sleep claiming him some time later.

#doctor robby #dr robinavitch #noah wyle #the pitt #dr robby #dr robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavich x reader

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luffysscraps · 2 years ago

Text

YANDERE MONKEY D. LUFFY; HEADCANONS

Cw; Yandere.fem reader.Manipulation.Gaslighting.Enabling crew.Stockholm syndrome. Not proofread.

You’ll never know until your caught; He reels you in with his smile, his playfulness, his curiosity. All of his jokes make you laugh! He’s so kind and nice to you. He’s always thinking about you! He shows you every little thing he picks up and stuff from his adventures! Speaking of which you should come with him! Life at sea is great! Plus there’s no telling whether he’ll ever come back to this island again. So join his crew! You don’t need to feel like you have to contribute anything! Just do what you can and you’ll be a true straw hat! He gives you a few days to think it over and like every member before you, you fall for his romanticized version of the sea and set sail as the newest member of the straw hats.

“Gotcha~ ;P”

He’s got you right where he wants you; You’ll soon see the dangers of the sea a month into the vogue. Sea kings, other pirates, marines, scurvy. Almost every day you’re fighting for your right to breath! A bounty on your head for just being spotted with the straw hats. You’re in over your head! You’re not much of a fighter! You’re going to die if you stay here any longer! You’ve got to get out of here! You take it up with Luffy and he simply crosses his arms and smiles at you. “Leave? If it’s what you want, I won’t stop you! We’ll be at the next island in three days. It was a pleasure being your captain and I’ll never forget you.” He gives you a hearty smile as a send off. You’re relieved he’s being so nice about it.

He knows you can’t leave, well alive that is; marines flooded the next island. They got an anonymous tip that the straw hats would be porting in the next week and jumped at the opportunity. You’re captured and almost executed if it wasn’t for Luffy saving you at the last moment. Your traumatized, hugging onto his red vest and crying into his chest. So much fire, so much gun shots, so much blood shed… Luffy simply rubs the back of your head and smiles. “Don’t worry bout it… with me here no one will harm you.” You cry even louder and won’t let go of him for the world. How could you ever think about leaving him?

He knows your weak and uses that to his advantage; “Stick by me okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.” You nod, taking his hand easily. The fear of what if lurks down the corner and fills your body. Ever since you were captured you don’t feel safe without Luffy around. The rest of the crew try to get you to feel more comfortable but nothing works. When Zoro suggests you train with him to hold your own, Luffy just glares at his green haired friend and talks to him behind closed doors. “I don’t want her to get hurt. Don’t worry about her I’ll be here to protect her.” Or when Usopp offers to build you a weapon, Luffy shuts him down as well. The crew is beyond confused on why Luffy’s apposed to this… but he is the captain so what can you do? The crew watches on in concern as you grip Luffy tightly and the male laughs and teases you about how he’ll always be there for you.

Expect when he’s not. It’s not a coincidence or mistake. He planned this; “L-Luffy!? L-Luffy!” Your voice strained out as you walk around the ship looking for him. Did he fall in the water?! Did we leave him at the last island?! Did he leave you?! Your panicking and hyperventilating as you can’t find Luffy anywhere. The crew tries to reassure you that he’s alright but you curl up into a ball and begin to sob in despair. You don’t feel safe anymore without him near. He’s missing for around three days until he randomly appears like nothing happened to him. “Yeah I fell asleep on lookout duty, that last fight messed me up more then I thought! I was right there in the tower!” He makes up a silly story. You’re squeezing him tightly, crying and yelling about how you’ll never let him go. And all he could do is smile and hug you back. He’ll never let you go.

He can’t control himself when others talk about his behavior or you; They’re not blind. You’re attached to Luffy 24/7 and it’s not healthy. They think he doesn’t understand you’re not well, that he just thinks you want to play or cuddle with him all the time, but he’s well aware of you not being well. “Yeah so what? If it’s what she wants, what’s the problem?” “Luffy she won’t even eat if you’re not present! She can’t function without you around! We tried to get her to go get treated with Chopper but she won’t leave without you!” Nami tried to reason with her captain, she couldn’t go on any longer watching her friend turn into a husk of herself. Luffy’s eyes glare at Nami holding your hand close to his face. “There’s no need for Chopper to treat her. I like her this way~” He said with a sharp smirk the crew had never seen before. Just what’s gotten into him?

You slowly become Luffy’s lap dog, never seen a second away from him, always by his side; Hey at least it’s fun. He’s not as heartless as some others. You can drink, laugh, party, dance, you can do whatever you want as long as you’re next to him. It’s like the two of you are attached by the hip and it’s honestly creepy for the crew to witness. He’s always playing with you, tickling you, telling you stories and jokes. There isn’t a second you two are separated and it’s jarring whenever you two are. You seem hollow and distant without Luffy near and Luffy’s… off. There’s something about him that changes when you’re not around but no one can put a finger on it.

He didn’t think he’d ever hurt one of his crew… until; That pesky little Robin stuck her nose into a place where it didn’t belong. The captain’s quarters. The first thing that set her off were the walls, they were covered in crude drawings of you and Luffy. And tons of your wanted posters scattered the walls as well. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, her instincts telling her to leave but she couldn’t help but look through more. On his desk was a diary of some sorts, and plastered through the pages were just your name written down over and over again, frantic heart doodles, scribbles and ramblings of a mad man going on and on about you. It then clicked in her mind, No one had actually entered the captain’s room since you joined the crew… and as she turned around to finally leave she felt nothing but a rubbery punch to her stomach sending her flying back into the wall. “I thought I told everyone… the captain’s room is off limits.”

Then he flat out tells everyone, without sugarcoating it; “Y/N’s mine! I was the one who called in and told the marines about us docking so Y/N can get captured! Oh yeah and I did a bunch of other things to her too :p . I made her this way and we’re both happy about it!… if anyone else ISN’T happy about it, well. We’re pretty far out in the water. I dunno if anyone will find your body~!” Luffy let’s out one of his contagious laughs but nothing is funny. The crew is staring at him in horror. Robin clutches her broken ribs with wide, teary, eyes. Everyone had their mouth agape, in utter shock. They all knew something was wrong but never in a million years would they have thought Luffy was capable of doing this. To someone he claimed to love. You heard his words but didn’t react. You didn’t care anymore, Luffy knew best. You hugged him closely, putting your head into his chest, accepting your fate. “See? She likes it! Now anyone opposed to this?”

Well of course everyone’s opposed to it; But… what can you do… It’s Luffy. His power is too great, he’s nothing less then a god. Any attempts to help you escape or fight him off are shot down in seconds. Luffy has no remorse when he’s beating Sanji’s body blue because he thought it would be a good idea to try and help you sneak away on an island they were docked in. “Sanji… you’re a really good cook, and I don’ wanna loose you but if you want to come between us I’ll have no choice. So will you be nice and stop trying to take her away from me? :D?!” He asks him with a large smile, despite the blood running down his knuckles and the blonde underneath him that was slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.

The crew suddenly start getting injuries. Robin’s ribs, Nami’s throat, Usopp’s arm, Sanji’s leg, Chopper’s antlers, Zoro’s ear, Franky’s backside. Every pirate crew they come across is confused to see why the great straw hats are injuried so badly, all expect you of course. No longer do they smile in the face of their captain, instead they shake with fear. They soon stop trying to escape and fight, instead they all give in and comply with their captain’s orders.

So join his pirate crew, come live at sea with him! It’ll be fun! And once he haves you, he’ll never let you go~

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darkenedroses-world · 4 months ago

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Closer To Us — Pezzy x Reader

f!reader, fluff, reunited lovers, fire lookout, hopelessly in love, tender moments, confessions, sweet ending, request🦋

The sound of your phone buzzing on the wooden counter startled you, breaking the silence of the fire tower. You weren’t expecting anyone to call, and for a moment, you just stared at the screen, your heart racing when Max’s name lit up. It had been months since you’d last spoken. The distance between your worlds had taken its toll, and eventually, the calls had stopped. But seeing his name again stirred something deep within you—a mixture of hope and caution. You hesitated, then swiped to answer. “Hello?” “Y/N,” Max’s voice came through, warm and familiar, though tinged with nerves. “Hey.” You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. “Max. It’s been a while.” “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Too long. Look, I—uh—I ran into your friend at the bar. The one who owns the place? She told me you’re closer to the city now, at a new station.” Your chest tightened. Of course, your friend would let something like that slip. “Yeah. I figured it was time for a change.” “That’s great,” he said quickly, then paused. “I mean, it’s… great that you’re closer. Makes visiting easier.” The weight of his words settled over you. “Visiting?” you echoed. “I want to see you,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard.

“If you’ll let me.” Your lips parted, but no words came out. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but before doubt could creep in, your heart answered for you. “Okay.” The sun had barely risen when Max arrived at your tower, his motorcycle rumbling softly as he pulled up at the base. You leaned against the railing, watching him climb the narrow stairs with that same confident grin that had once driven you crazy—and still did. “Morning,” he greeted, a hint of breathlessness in his voice as he reached the top. “You weren’t kidding about the view.” You smiled, gesturing for him to come inside. The small space felt more alive with him in it, his presence filling the quiet like it belonged there. The breakfast you’d prepared sat on the table—coffee, scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. Simple, but warm. “Fancy setup,” he teased, pulling out a chair. “You sure know how to impress a guy.” You rolled your eyes, sitting across from him. “I’ve learned to make do.” The meal was filled with easy conversation and laughter, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had marked your last goodbye. He told you about life back in the city, how his friends had teased him endlessly about the “mysterious girl in the woods.”

You told him about the new station, how being closer to town had made your days less lonely but not quite the same. “Not a bad view for breakfast,” he said, nodding toward the window. But when you followed his gaze, he wasn’t looking at the forest—he was looking at you. Your cheeks warmed, and you reached for your coffee to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re incredible,” he shot back without hesitation, his tone so sincere it left you speechless. After breakfast, you found yourselves on the deck, the golden sunlight bathing the world in warmth. Max leaned against the railing, his hands in his pockets as he looked out over the treetops. “I meant what I said,” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. “About wanting to make this work.” Your heart skipped a beat. “Max…” “I know it’s not going to be easy,” he continued, turning to face you. “But I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this. I don’t want to go back to missing you, wondering if you’re thinking about me, too.” You bit your lip, the vulnerability in his words hitting you hard. “I missed you every day,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours. “Then let’s figure this out. No more distance, no more guessing. Just… us.” The world seemed to fall away as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His kiss was soft and slow, filled with all the unspoken feelings you’d both carried for so long.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “And I don’t care if that means driving out here every weekend or living on the edge of the city. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Tears welled in your eyes, and you nodded, your fingers gripping his hoodie like a lifeline. “I love you too, Max.” The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter and stolen kisses, the two of you finding your rhythm again. That night, as the stars filled the sky and the world grew quiet, you sat together on the deck, wrapped in a blanket. Max’s arm was around you, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your shoulder. “Think we can do this?” you asked softly, your head resting against his chest. “Definitely,” he said without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We’ve already got the hard part figured out.” “And what’s that?” “Loving each other,” he said simply, his voice filled with certainty. “The rest is just details.” For the first time in months, you felt like everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

#Spotify #concept writing #youtube #request #pezzy #pezzy x reader

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softwaring · 9 months ago

Note

How do you use the bathroom and get wifi where you live? Asking as a potential fire lookout myself.

each lookout location is different, some have running water, propane, flush toilets and electricity, along with internet.

some have no water, have pit toilets (holes in the ground with a toilet seat above it essentially, also the most popular), no electricity, no propane, and no access to the internet/cell service.

in active duty lookouts most communication is done via radios. some use a cell phone repeater to get service at lookouts for wifi etc and some have starlink at the tower.

anyone looking into fire work really needs to know it’s a very tightknit community. if you’re local, talk to rangers. get to know them and volunteer. the lookout positions don’t require a lot of education but they’re highly coveted. when someone becomes a lookout they usually serve at the same lookout for decades if possible.

another hurdle with lookout work is its low pay and highly seasonal, along with being physically and emotionally demanding. you’re not just sitting in your tower, looking for fires far away. you have to actively fight fires if close enough to you, and that includes hauling heavy equipment (50-100lbs usually) a good way to get into the lookout position is working other wildfire fighting positions and volunteering for them. even helping at fire camp as a cook is a start.

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transzilla · 1 year ago

Text

You met me over grindr while I was in the city for a one night stand and for some reason we kept in touch, some glow around me that you really liked. Your living situation is a little crowded so we figured we would hook up in an empty bulldozer at a construction site at night. I work at a fire tower in the mountains and I really like other trans men but due to the geography haven't found anybody to stick around, so I tend to get around quite a bit when in the city.

Your living situation is tough. You've tried to go on hormones, or blockers, but keep being shamed and rejected and getting pressured out of it by distant family members or chaser-y roommates. You have no room to grow. You're fucking miserable. You contemplate offing yourself, guiltily, but quickly shoo the thought away considering you have a roof over your head and no real reason to be sad.

We text obsessively. I'm lonely out there, stealth trans in the middle of nowhere, and whenever I have service we text, call, vent, joke, bust balls, tell each other all our deepest, darkest secrets. They're looking to hire another lookout, my coworker retired. It requires you to live onsite and they provide housing without taking it out of your paycheck. I sympathize with your situation, I tell you you'd do well in this position, I'll put in a good word for you with the forest service, you should apply. Get you out of that glorified pig sty and somewhere with fresh air where you can finally breathe.

You get the job, make a fucking decision and leave everything behind to come work with me. We reunite, get drunk, get you accustomed to your new life. You talk to very few people and nobody seems to clock you as trans anyway. Your daily work is hard and manual but refreshing compared to customer service. You let me rail you every night, your food is taken care of, you're reading and working out and getting your back blown out on the clock.

Sometimes it feels like I make you do everything I'm supposed to do, I seem to enjoy watching you sweat and lift heavy things and slack on my work. I have a ton of testosterone that I share a little too excitedly with you and it doesnt look prescription, in small brown vials with blue caps, some of them are labelled cypionate but also proprionate, enthonate, undecanoate, demonic incantations you've never seen before in your life. And I'm real weird about always doing your injection for you. I stab it in so fast and it looks violent but it doesn't feel as bad when you do it, but the way I make eye contact and hold the needle in my teeth while I do my own injection is a little off putting. I'm constantly pushing you, nothing you ever do is good enough for me, all of my fetishes while we're fucking seem to entail you doing push ups naked, squats, bending over and letting me examine you, your legs getting so sore after im making you ride it, letting me squeeze your tits and feeling your pec underneath the breast. I smoke a pack a day and pressure you into joining me, complimenting you on how raspy and fucked up your voice sounds.

You have doubts. You aren't able to call your friends as often as you thought you would. When you talk to people you've been isolated so long you talk over them garishly, talk all about yourself, make too many dirty jokes and swear too much the way we talk to each other, awkward and unfit for civilized society. All you have is me and you have no choice but to trust that I have your best intentions in mind.

You let me teach you how to use a shotgun the salty perfume of the gunpowder staining your hands as your aim gets better and better, your guard lowering the more I've been praising you for doing what I want. We went hunting and you shot your first deer. I was so excited and you were so validated by how proud I was, it felt like a big hug from the inside out. You send a picture of the field dressed deer to your old city friends, guts steaming in the morning sun. they're absolutely disgusted by the fact that you would do such a thing and show them. You're a fucking machine of a man now and you're able to tame the wilderness everywhere except for in yourself.

After months you plain don't recognize yourself in the mirror. Your hair is wild, your facial hair not just a few long pubes jealously untouched on your chin but a uniform patchy stubble shaved haphazardly when you were tired of it being singed when you did fight fires. Knuckles scarred, shoulders broad, the gross muscle you feared you would develop rippling like a tiger under your skin and the extra weight you've gained. You talk like I do, you act like I do, you think like I do, you can't tell where you stop and I start. Your reflection looks sleepless, disordered, lost, a thuggish stranger. Heartless man.

#forcemasc #autoandrophilia #this is also primal ish i think #forced masculinization

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casualsheeteater · 1 year ago

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Carnal Desire - Part 1

Warnings: NSFW, Violence, Gore

2nd POV, Fem reader.

You'd been assigned to König, a mountain of a man, for this mission. He'd been tacked on to the 141 as part of the top brass's collaboration with the PMC group. You were told not to question it, so you mainly ignored the newer addition. Until now.

The man was quiet, speaking only when absolutely needed. It unnerved you. Though, his height didn't necessarily help, either. He was built like a brick fireplace, towering over everything, and wound with layers of thick muscle. You could feel as much whenever you were thrown into him during the bumpy ride. Along with his gear piercing into your sides.

The two of you were draped head to toe in ghillie suits in order to aid in camouflage. Not your favorite outfit, but not the worst. They were made with shady, damp forests in mind, leading to a darker color palette along the mixed leaves and mesh.

When Price had announced the mission, your mouth had run dry. You'd worked with Konig before on a few previous missions, but /not/ this close.

A sigh slipped from your lips. While you were confident you could flow well with him, it didn't ease your nerves, and the mysterious coil slithering in your stomach.

When the Jeep finally lurched to a stop, you were almost grateful. You quickly undid the strap binding you to the seat and waited for the orders to crack through your earpiece. It was only meant to be a 'drop-off', but intel had stated there were some stray /dogs/.

Soon, Price's whiskey lathered voice dripped through the speaker in your ear. "Area's clear. Disperse, and get to that safehouse," he grumbled. Immediately, as though a gun had fired a blank to announce the start of a race, you were out of the Jeep, scanning your surroundings.

Your boots firmly planted down onto the powdery dirt, the slight crunch of contact with a few loose pebbles adding to the bit of noise. Your gun was raised, aim steady, as your poured over the immediate landscape.

You wouldn't doubt that your guests hadn't heard you approaching, the Jeep wasn't exactly /stealthy/. Regardless, you stepped off the narrow dirty path, winding between the thick trunks of trees and brush.

"Good luck," the driver murmurs with a slight salute out of the corner of your eye, and as quickly as you had arrived, he was gone, turning around and going back to whence you'd came.

König, who'd gotten out opposite of you, flicked his head to you, the fabric of his long sniper hood jerking with the movement. He carefully studied your body language.

A shiver crawled down your spine as you felt the heat of his gaze on you. But you did your best to ignore it.

Your eyes carefully scanned, nitpicking the various dark greens and arrays of shadowy logs. Few rays of sunshine battered down through the treetops, hidden by the bulk of leaves above creating a blanketed atmosphere.

The two of you had been informed of a crucial safehouse being on the radar of a dangerous criminal group. Some documents had apparently been left behind, as well as several weapon stashes scattered in and around the forest, including the town surrounding it.

You and König were briefed to take a 'lookout' approach, and only engage in combat if spotted. To avoid such confrontation early in the mission, you were sent out later in the day.

Not that it mattered to you, your back was already beginning to complain about the 40 pounds of gear currently piled onto your figure. It wasn't anything you couldn't handle, you were trained for it after all, but you wouldn't mind shucking the majority of it onto the ground of the safehouse.

"Ready?" You whispered to König, you heard the rustle of fabric before you turned and caught the movement. He'd nodded, choosing to stay quiet for now. The two of you hadn't had time to really have a /conversation/, just a few polite phrases. Didn't stop him from watching you like a hawk every time you entered a room, though.

Quickly, the two of you immersed yourselves into the brush, mindful of your steps while moving fluidly through the sticks, stepping over logs, as your back slightly hunched, your silenced assault rifle aimed in front of you, scanning continuously. It was a rhythm, something you easily fell into every time you were put into this setting. Though, it was slightly different with the behemoth next to you.

Surprisingly, he was as quiet as you. Probably quieter. In that aspect, he was similar to Ghost, who glided about the compound, scaring Privates out of their minds. It was fun to watch, you will admit that.

But König? He only used his build on missions, not engaging much in larger crowds. Everything about him was a mystery. Well, except to Horangi, another operator who'd been pinned onto 141 with him. The only thing you knew about Horangi was how awful he was at poker. Again, not having much chance for conversation due to back-to-back missions, and your general avoidance of the newcomers.

Not that you minded it, you quite preferred the constant missions, kept your mind off of things, and more in your work. You supposed you were quite isolated as well, not engaging whenever Soap would attempt to drag you out for drinks.

Though, this mission seemed more like an opportunity to relax more than anything. Price would occasionally tend to send his soldiers onto missions like this. A brief reprieve from the onslaught of typical work.

/Ah./ It was probably so you could get to know König more. Price had already been discussing the possibility of future duo missions between you and the other man.

As you stepped, you could feel how the man next to you was practically brimming with adrenaline. In the corner of your eye, you saw, what you could of his eyes. All you knew was that they were /wide/, intaking any visual information he could.

You didn't blame him. By now, the two of you were deep into the forest, the powdery dirt road nowhere in sight anymore.

Suddenly, he was no longer at your side, a stride or two in front of you, which, considering the length of his legs, was hefty. He motioned for you to get down with his hand, his own slightly crouched position deepening.

Immediately understanding his intent, you did as instructed, eyes flicking about your surroundings, trying to find a form of cover. Next to you, an overturned hollow log was draped across the ground.

/Convenient/.

You ducked down, crouch-walking your way over to the log. Konig was right next to it. You peeked in. It was big enough to hold about three people. Perfect.

Resting the barrel of your gun onto the top of the log, you peered through the scope. A quick scan showed you nothing. With a quirked brow, you glanced over to Konig. You doubt he'd heard wrong, he was much more experienced than you.

Before you understood what was happening, Konig dragged you to the ground, rolling over on top of you as a shot thundered through the forest.

"/Verdammt-/," he muttered, the first word he'd spoken since you'd first met him. Besides on comms. His voice was deeper in person than you'd thought it'd be.

You stared, wide eyed, at him on top of you. His head was shifted, looking over his shoulder, before ducking down and facing you as another shot rang out, closer to your position now. His eyes met yours. The cold pupils /glinted/ with murderous intent. Not directed t you, of course. Didn't lessen the chill down your spine, regardless.

A rustle came from the brushes to your right, and both of your heads snapped to it. From his utility belt, Konig snatched a knife, and raised it. The two of you were already decently camouflaged, the ghillie suit sufficiently covering you both. Especially you, as Konig's also draped over you.

As soon as a head peeked above the brush, Konig pounced. You watched for a split second before quickly redirecting yourself. /This was a life or death situation./

Your gun, which hadn't clattered too far away from you in the commotion, was still primed and ready. You snatched it, propping yourself back up, trusting the cover of your ghillie suit gave you, and aimed as you scoured the surroundings. The slight outcropping of a face immediately tipped you off.

You exhaled, bracing your body for recoil, and steadied the reticle. A shot rang out, and the body jerked back, out of sight.

To the left of you, you heard grunting, before a sickening /SNAP/. Konig had finished off the other guy within a minute or so.

It was still a wonder to you, how the man managed to disable someone within a matter of moments. Another shiver went down your spine.

"Status?" He growled out to you, accent thick. You hadn't noticed him approaching.

"Fine," you took another look through your scope. "Two tangos approaching," you whispered. They were /just/ out of range for your rifle.

He stayed silent for a moment.

"Direct me over comms," he instructed.

You give him a quick sharp nod, readjusting your stance so you're better easily able to move your gun about. A deep breath fills your lungs, you hold it for a moment, hearing the slightly quickened thumping of your heart, before letting it out. You lean down, immediately spotting moving brush.

"Straight forward from my position, at least 70 meters," I mutter.

Konig begins creeping forward, and you flick over to get him in your sights.

He makes short work of the trek, his long stride benefitting him, as in no time, you hear the take down over comms, blood spurting out of, what you presume is a neck. "Tango down," Konig reports.

You begin to move forward as well, as soon as you lock onto the other man. "Far right, 2 o'clock, prone position." You inform, spying the other man hunkered down. It was a good spot; you'll give them that.

Several minutes pass, and Konig's disappears out of sight. Frantically, your reticle searches the area.

"(shit but in german.)" Konig suddenly growls over comms.

Grunting and tousling are heard over Konig's mic. At once, you're picking up your pace. "Konig?" You call, just above a whisper. Your rifle is resumed to it's usual spot in your grip as you book it to his location.

"Konig!" You press, as more struggling is heard. Not too far from you, you hear a shot, and wince as it's also transmitted into your ear.

It goes deathly quiet.

Your muscles begin to burn, as you dodge and duck, moving around bushes, stray rocks, and logs. You hurl yourself away from the trunk of a tree, using it to gain momentum as you hop over a lifeless body.

He speaks your name over comms, it's rough, gravely. You come to a stop, as you spot him in front of you, standing, huffing and heaving, much like you.

Konig turns to you, blood splattered across his front, several specks dripping from his ghillie suit. His eyes, piercing in that cold unmoving gaze. A knife, harshly gripped in his right hand, as several combatants lay on the floor. He'd been ambushed while going for the man who was prone, as they'd been able to hide out of sight.

"Sitrep?" You ask between breaths, your chest rising and falling.

He didn't speak, only stepped towards you as he dropped the knife. It clattered to the ground at his feet. His pupils were solely focused on you.

Another step.

You resisted the urge to retreat back.

Again. His boots quiet against the forest floor.

Finally, he was right in front of you, as you strained your neck to meet his eyes.

Your name dripped from his lips and you froze. Like prey, cornered by a predator. /Yet he was your teammate./

His hand rose, coming up to cup your cheek, staining it with the blood of the men he'd just disarmed. It was still warm, and you swallowed, your neck slightly bobbing at the motion.

"/Mein./" He spoke.

Your brows furrowed slightly. 'Mein'? You had limited vocabulary on German, but regardless, you knew that meant 'mine'. You opened your mouth to question, and he pounced.

His other hand flew up, pushing his hood under the seam of his balaclava and pulling the other up to his nose, revealing his scarred mouth. He pressed his lips to yours as he bent forward, keeping one hand on your face, the other wrapping around you like a snake in his vice grip.

Any noise you were going to make was clamped down, practically sucked out of you, similar to the breath in your lungs. He stole it, all of it, as his rough lips encased yours.

His eyes, focused on your reaction and body language, studied you, as if a flame had been lit in them.

He broke away after several moments, and you inhaled, inflating your lungs once more.

"/Konig/, not here-", You try to reason with him. The two of you were still right in the middle of enemy occupied territory.

The man bent back down, and right before stealing your lips once more murmured, "Nein, jetzt."

You closed your eyes, melting into it, as his tongue licked into your mouth. Your hands came up to grasp him, sinking into the fabric on his arms of the ghillie suit, like you were trying to scratch him out of it.

He began to push you backwards, causing you to falter, right up against a tree. Without hesitation, he begins to pull the straps of the heavy bag down, helping you slip your arms through them before tossing it aside in the bushes. Again, he broke the kiss, as his hands began to wander, making quick work of your belt and the buttons of your pants.

Anticipation and sudden arousal shot through your body, hitting you straight in the gut. Your heartbeat quickened, as you caught sight of his eyes. Pupils dilated and solely focused on you. His mouth, pressed into a thin line, slightly upticked due to an old wound slicing his lips.

König leaned in, pressing his body right up against yours, those same lips peppering promises onto your neck.

It almost felt like the calm before the storm.

His hands continued, rough pads of his fingertips dancing along your flesh, rippling goosebumps up your torso. They journeyed downwards, past the band of your underwear, before freezing.

"/Wet/," he muttered, and you felt the grin on your neck.

A small noise came out of your mouth at that, realizing just what he'd done to you despite the situation, and in a /forest/ of all things.

The man gave you no time to ponder, diving straight into your cunt.

To be Continued ❤️❤️

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig smut #to be continued #cod #cod mwii #smut #I'm slow at writing #This was sitting in my drafts for so long #I swear I'll finish

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