TBIS MADE ME SMILE

TBIS MADE ME SMILE

Paperwork

Ghost X Reader

Summary: You spilled coffee on a soldier's paperwork by accident. Your superior sends you out to face the consequences.

Warnings: anxious reader, superior yelling at you

Let me know if you like it, might continue this into a little series! Events inspired by my own anxiety :')

"How can you be so useless?! All you had to do was punch some holes in 'em and file them! Great! Now I have to go to...", your superior, Sarah, looked over the document, "-Fuck!"

She pressed the coffee stained papers into your hands, "No, you know what? You'll go. You go to Ghost and explain to him exactly why he has to do his paperwork again. The paperwork he rarely hands in on time anyways because he hates doing it. This is your fault, you're fixing it."

A strong wave of anxiety overcame you. You were still pretty new to this place. You'd only been living and working at the military base for about a month and while the administrative tasks that came with your job were not new to you, life here was certainly different from what you were used to and needed some time to adjust to.

After about half an hour of searching you ran into John McTavish, or Soap, as he is called here. Before the two of you could collide from your anxious rush he gently stopped you by your shoulders, "Careful there, almost would've run into ya. You alright there?"

Desperately trying to pull yourself together you made your way out into the hall with your paperwork in hand. How hard could it be to find the 6'5'' ft behemoth of a man with the scary mask? Pretty hard actually, you soon realised. He really lived up to his callsign.

You stared up at him, barely holding back tears now. You'd been searching these halls for what felt like hours, Sarah is probably fuming by now because you're waisting time and, "I'm fine. Sorry I-"

"Are you crying, lass?" Soap interrupted you and immediately started eyeing you with concern on his features, "What's wrong? Did I scare you?"

"N-no, it's just... Fuck..." You simply couldn't get the words out so you just handed him the ruined paperwork to speak for itself, swallowing the next load of tears.

"Hmn? Is this Ghost's?"

You nodded in response finally mustering an answer, "I ruined 'em. He's gonna kill me for that, isn't he?"

Soap couldn't stop a chuckle, "Well, he has killed more people over less, but I think you'll be safe just this once."

"Safe from what now?"

The deep voice that rang from behind Soap startled you so much that you would've dropped all of the papers if it hadn't been for Soap holding them.

"Safe from your fury, L.T. The little lass ruined some papers by accident." Soap handed the papers over to Ghost, who now appeared beside him. You couldn't quite decipher his demeanor by just the look of his eyes peering through the mask, but you were sure he must be furious.

You tried to hide how scared you were of his reaction when the tall, masked man gently placed one of his hands on your shoulder, "Listen, I don't know what your co-workers told you about me, but there's nothing to be afraid of. It was an accident. This type of shit happens to all of us. You have nothing to worry about unless you start bothering me on purpose, are we clear?"

"Clear as day, Sir!" You responded immediately standing up straighter. Despite his fairly kind words, he was still an imposing figure and you didn't want to risk bothering him again.

"Relax, you're not one of my idiot recruits. No need for formalities. Call me Simon." He handed over the papers again, "I'll bring clean ones in later today, don't worry about it."

After staring at him for a moment in stunned silence you finally managed to say, "Thank you, Simon." Even Soap seemed a bit perplexed by seeing his Lieutenant's kind side in action. Something that clearly didn't happen too often.

As soon as Ghost had left, Soap couldn't hold his excitement any longer, "Aye Lass, I don't know how you did it, but you got on his good side it seems! Gotta teach me your secret techniques! Never have I seen him this sympathetic unless he'd messed something up himself. Incredible, you're the Ghost whisperer!"

"I'm not a 'Ghost whisperer', stop this nonsense. I have to go get back to work now. Sarah is gonna have my head for taking so long." You sighed and looked back up at him, "But thanks for leading me to him, I guess."

"Any time, lass. Join us for lunch later?" The offer came as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You barely knew anyone here on a first-name basis, so you usually spent lunch in your office alone.

"Uhm, sure! See you there." You waved to him before hurrying back down to meet your superior's fury once again. As it turns out Sarah's wrath was the only thing you actually had to fear today.

I LOST NY DEVICES BUT IM BACK 🥹🥹

GRRRRRRR MEOW MEOW HISSSSS JEBEJWKWEN

animalic (3)

← chapter two

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lover out there <3

You really can’t catch a break. 

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home. 

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart. 

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground. 

Of course, he has that advantage on you too. 

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls. 

How did he track you down so fast? 

The day pass? 

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far. 

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass. 

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him. 

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand. 

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes. 

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing. 

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck. 

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be. 

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below. 

“You really gonna give up that easily?” 

Yes. 

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats. 

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion. 

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel. 

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again. 

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more. 

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen. 

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.” 

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling. 

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles. 

Yeah. Definitely a concussion. 

Like you could afford one right now. 

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger. 

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.” 

“And where would you go, exactly?” 

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.” 

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind. 

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him. 

“I didn’t want to resort to this.” 

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.” 

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you. 

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel reaches up and slips his mask off. Your mouth moves faster. 

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.” 

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline. 

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline. 

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them. 

Please let this just be a kiss. 

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–” 

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo. 

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side. 

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape. 

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare. 

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.” 

(You might as well already be.)

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I NEED MORE OF THIS OSNS BR

🦋🪷 𝓝ƴന𝚙𝒉𝟶ᥨ𝟶ဌƴ 💧🍃

Warnings? None really, just monster reader and descriptions of near-death, and allusions to capitalism.

Characters? Ghost, Price, Gaz, and Soap

Fic type? Head canons!

Summary? Headcanons of how 141 found Monster reader, took them home, and now live with them.

A/n: I will be making a full fic of how Reader was found and stuff but until... Headcanons! Also, @sunshine-and-moonshine was the inspo for this.

🧚‍♀️Monster Type?🧚‍♀️

Reader is a Nymph! A Nymph of the air specifically. the powers to control the wind, blend into the clouds and very close to the stars.

Your hair seems to float gracefully as if you have a fan that perfectly blows your hair at all times, your eyes glow an unusually beautiful color, your body seems a bit pale than a normal human would be, and your hands and feet while visible seem to be just slightly see-through the outline of your bones visible, same for you ribcage.

To some you'd be terrifying but to them... You're the most beautiful thing they had ever seen...

🦋 How you meet? 🦋

The boys crashed onto an island in the middle of nowhere, with little rations and no way back home. They tried everything they could to get an S. O. S. But the area they were in didn't have any planes going over it. And after a month or so when the rations were getting low, their sanity started deteriorating being consumed by hunger and thirst. So much so that everyone was starting to eye each other is a dark horrid hunger...

You had been observing for quite some time. You hadn't run into humans in your time of existence. So watching them was very interesting and peaked your curious nature. You wanted to keep them around, unfortunately, it took you a while to figure out why after a month your humans started behaving strangely. You forget that living things need things to survive like food... And water... You didn't want them to die... Or resort to eating each other to survive. You wanted to keep them! Even if you only really needed one.

One by one you visited them, in the darkness of night. Floating to them curling yourself into their side using the air around you, turning it from vapor to water holding your cupped hand to their mouth the other holding their heads. Kissing their faces and necks. Such strange and yet adorable creatures.

🪷 Life with Nymph Reader 🪷

For a while, they were content being here with you. Being given fresh water and you bringing them juicy fruit and fresh meat any time you could. But eventually, they got homesick. And while you wanted to be selfish and keep them here all to yourself. You didn't like seeing your humans so... Sad.

At first, you were sad they wanted to go... But one night Kyle had an amazing idea, you should just come home with them! You were excited about the idea! You haven't been around humans before so traveling where humans would be everywhere would be an interesting learning experience!

Helped build a raft of logs, fallen branches, and thick vines. Just big enough for your humans to sit on. Then you turned into air only your hands visible as you begin to push the raft fast enough to get to the mainland without tearing the raft to pieces.

Getting to the mainland you had to completely shield yourself. And while you had your fun when they were being asked about their survival and interrogated you ran invisible fingers through their hair, kissed along their necks, whispered sweet nothings into their ears. You didn't like being ignored for long periods.

You however weren't the only one who got jealous. Even though you can't be seen by others, the boys still get quite jealous. They also couldn't see you before, you just found them charming and desired to show yourself to them. They are paranoid that you'll find another just as charming and lose interest. But you treasure them and make sure to show them just how much you care for them and no other humans would ever replace them.

Eventually, they all end up living together. Mostly because they couldn't keep it civil and always ended up arguing about whose turn it was to have you for the week. Every night you go from room to room laying with them for a few hours, kissing them, loving them, touching them, fucking them... They love life.

They love you a lot and would gladly go through the tournament they did on that island for a month if it meant meeting you all over again.

HELP I NEED MORE OBSESSED

Their Deadly Flower - One

A/N: Please enjoy this written version of one of my many hallucinations. As a reminder, this doesn’t directly follow the canon events of CoD. Also, feel free to leave feedback and share if you are so inclined.

Pairings: Ghost X Reader,  König X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, 

     Some things would never change, from the silence of your steps to your highly perceptive hearing. All of your training had stayed with you even after your leave from 141. Your eyes were always sharp, keeping watch for what could be lurking around the corner. Shoulders always squared and feet poised to strike at anyone who might try to take you out. You were constantly on edge, rarely ever sleeping due to the fear of those seeking your head. The things you had done, the face of those whose lives you had taken, would flash through your mind when you closed your eyes. On the rare occasions you did sleep, you’d wake in a cold sweat, screaming from the night terrors that plagued you. Memories of the capture that lead to your forced leave from the 141. Flickering images of the torture you were put through at the hands of the enemy.

     You had been sloppy in your work only once, but once was good enough for them to take advantage of. They captured you as you lay in a puddle of your own blood. You weren’t fast enough as the bullet started flying, shelter just far enough from you for them to get one good shot off. You were too weak to crawl away as the crimson stained your clothes, seeping from the wound in your abdomen. The taste of blood in the back of your throat kept you from yelling for help. The hands of the enemy dragging you out of sight as the rest of your team made their escape. Too little too late did they notice your absence. By the time they had realized, you were already too far gone. Forced to evacuate and regroup, they made a plan back at the main base.

     Another team had gotten to you first, though you distinctly remember Laswell having been there. The other team took you for medical assistance in the building where they would eventually push you from the 141.

     That was two years ago now and you had built somewhat of a normal life for yourself now. Going under a fake name and being under 24/7 surveillance from those who had employed you before. You still didn’t feel safe. You never felt safe anywhere unless you were surrounded by your team. They had been your family, never had you felt like you belonged somewhere more in your entire life. Gaz and Soap were like brothers to you, Price like a father and Ghost… Well, he was a complicated one. You get along well and all but he was never one to open up. You knew little things about him, but you were sure the others knew those things too. He never opened up to you and for some reason, it bothered you. He hadn’t been cold to you like he was with most, he treated you well enough and would even occasionally joke with you. They were wry and sarcastic, sure, but they were jokes nonetheless. Which meant there was at least something there, right? Some semblance of a friendship?

     “Desert?” A female voice snaps you from your thoughts as your brain registers the fake name you’d been given. Alice was calling for you, your eyes snapping to meet her brown ones, the worry on her face evident. “Hey, are you ok?” 

     Batting away the concern in her voice, you allow your eyes to readjust to your surroundings. “Yeah, yeah. I was just… lost in thought, that’s all.” Shaking your head you begin picking at your food, not really hungry anymore. You knew that this brunch thing wouldn’t go well, you spent most of your time busying your mind with work and chores. You even went as far as to fill any unoccupied time with volunteer work and excessively retraining your movements, just in case. None of it was necessary, however. Your ex-employers were paying for everything for you. They’d literally handed you the keys and address of a one-bedroom flat and a box of food would arrive at your door every Friday at 2 p.m. But none of that kept your mind from slipping back to the day you lost everything. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. They took you to a separate outpost, then shipped you out here.

     “You seem a little more than just lost in thought, Hun.” She gives you a look as if to say ‘I know you better than you think’ before returning her attention to her food. “If you need to talk you know I’m here. You’re like, my best friend and I’d hope that you’d feel safe sharing your thoughts and feelings with me.” She smiles mischievously leaning slightly over the table. “No matter how fucked up they might be. Believe me when I say I have seen some shit.” She pushes her pin-straight blond hair over her shoulder as she bites into a carrot she’d picked out of her salad. 

     You nod silently as you stab the salad in front of you with the cheap plastic fork it came with. “I, um…” Your nerves are on fire after everything that just ran through your mind. “I’ve been thinking back on all the fucked up things I’ve done in my life, you know?” Taking the forkful of salad into your mouth, you look up at her to gauge her expression. She seems passive enough as she nods slowly, encouraging you to continue. And so you do, trying to keep the words that spill from your lips as cryptic as possible. Swallowing the bite of salad, you plaster a fake smile on your face. “You know, like, when you do something so completely avoidable and get into a lot of trouble over it or hurt yourself in the process.” Your smile falters as your mind again drifts back to that day.

     A small laugh escapes her plump lips. “Yeah, no, I get it.” She shakes her head looking you dead in the eyes, brows creased with amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is that really what you spend all that time thinking about?” Her cocks slightly to the side.

     An odd feeling rolls through your gut as you stare at her for a moment, trying to keep your features as neutral and light as possible. Something about her felt familiar, almost dangerous. Your mind races trying to figure out why she seemed familiar. Of course you knew her, you’d befriended each other a few months after you’d been moved here, but something about the look she just gave you sent your mind into a spiral. You remember that face, from a long time ago, way before you’d messed up. Then, as if you’d unlocked a hidden door somewhere deep in your mind, it all comes flooding back. All the negotiating you’d done with the enemy’s intelligence unit, it was her. She was always the one that would show up to speak with you, always completely unarmed and far too casual for the serious discussions that took place. You remember the odd, creepy vibes she gave off whenever she’d crack an inappropriate joke about whichever team member had been partnered with you that day.

     You’re sure at this point in thought that your mask had slipped, letting her in on the feelings flooding through your body. Fear and confusion, among many other feelings, flood you. As you regain composure you notice her once amused face has turned serious. “I’d be careful what your next move is soldier, wouldn’t want to make any more stupid mistakes, would we?” The smile returns to her face, sickeningly sweet and overall creepy as the tone in her voice turns sardonic.

     Inhaling deeply, you push your nerves down, blowing the anxiety out of your body with the exhale. “No, no more stupid mistakes.” With a light shake of your head, you stand slowly, clasping your hands in one another. You can only hope this action has the effect you’re looking for. The last thing you’d want is an innocent getting hurt in the crossfire of a war they weren’t part of. Your eyes shift from her face to the rest of her body, searching for any signs of hostility. None immediately present themselves outright, perfect. Now you could easily lead her away from the civilians who were just trying to enjoy their remaining days on this spinning ball of hell. “Shall we?” Your voice comes out more confident than you were anticipating. Gesturing to the exit of the small café with your hands still clasped., you take a cautious step towards it, eyes never leaving her form.

     A knowing look crosses her gaze as she dabs her lips with a napkin. “Of course bestie.” An almost crazed smile paints itself across her thin lips. “Wouldn’t wanna waste our hours away sitting here all day.” She stands tall and straight, walking with intent. She strides up to you, giving you a cocky look as she links her elbow with yours. Leading you through the exit, she stops a few steps down the sidewalk, appearing to map the best route in her head as she looks up and down the street. 

     Sizing her up mentally you come to the conclusion that in hand-to-hand combat you could easily subdue her. If she possessed a firearm, however, your chances were slimmer. In the current environment, she’d be stupid to try anything. Civilians and shop owners would see everything and most of them knew her face by now. A small hiccup with living so long in such a small town, but an advantage you’d abuse in your current circumstances. On top of that, you’d taken the time in your paranoia-stricken state to map out the whole town repeatedly. At this point, every street, alley, and building was permanently ingrained in your mind. You’d need to make it to the forest on the west side of town. You knew what path you’d take if you got the chance to make a break for it. You stay silent as she continues to inspect the intersecting roads. Now though, you’re not sure whether she’s mapping out her surroundings, or looking for someone. It hit you then that if she had been this close to you the whole time, her team probably wasn’t far from her.

     Your mind begins to analyze the situation again, this time with the assumption that her team was also here, watching you both. Taking a silent deep breath, you clear your mind. There were some obvious spots that they would hide, plain sight for instance. You’d never got a glimpse of her team members’ faces, anonymity was almost a must for field ops during any mission. The town could be chock-full of enemy soldiers waiting around any corner ready to gun you down. Your mind flips through the nearly infinite paths you could take to safety, each one being tossed out for one reason or another. Corners you couldn’t see around, places not dense enough with buildings to duck behind, alleyways that didn’t lead directly into each other, and places too busy with civilian activity. You could do this, it would be risky but you knew you could. 

     Your eyes fix on the side of her head, trying to assess if you had the time to slip away before she located what she was looking for. Her eyes were still flitting back and forth, deciding now was the best chance you’d get, as time only allowed whatever danger there was to get closer. You steel yourself against the thought of being shot at and chased down, your leg muscles twitch as you shift your feet silently into position. Your mind flashes the path one last time, the hardest part would be the 180 you’d have to make to start the long trek out of this place. You glance once behind you to ensure the path is clear. Your body begins to move on its own, your hands unwinding from each other before you swiftly yank your arm from Alice’s. Using the moment of your own movements you spin on your toes taking off in a mad dash for the first alleyway you’d mapped in your head.

     Time seems to slow as you round the corner. Your strides nearly halt as the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rings off of the walls around you. Your sense of self-preservation kicks in and your legs begin to move faster. Rushing footsteps sound off from the street behind you. Wasting no time as you come to the next turn in your mental map, your right-hand jumps away from your body. It grips tightly on the pole of a street sign, using the momentum you’ve gained to whip yourself around the corner, losing little to no speed. With the path still clear in your mind, you focus all of your energy on putting as much distance as possible between you and your assailants. More gunshots ring in the air coming from all directions, confusion growing in your mind. Your chest heaves as you push yourself to keep going, running for what felt like forever as the sounds of all-out chaos resound through the streets. The footsteps behind you hadn’t ceased but had grown a bit quieter, farther away. If you could, you’d find a place to hunker down and hope they’d run right past you, but with no weapons to defend yourself with it wasn’t the best option. 

     Your legs ache from exertion, your chest heaving with every footfall. ‘You can do this’ repeats in your head over and over, a sort of mantra to keep yourself going. You were so close to the outskirts of town, the sweet taste of freedom stuck to the back of your tongue. One left turn, then a right and you’d smack face-first into the trees you plan to use to get away. The sound of gunfire is slowly dying down as you ready yourself to make the swift turn around the corner. For what has to be the twentieth time today, your arm jumps away from your body and you fling yourself around the corner. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of a large looming figure standing in the middle of the small alleyway. Suited in full tactical gear, a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, he’s a menacing sight. His whole body is covered in weaponry and as your eyes scan up his body you catch a quick glimpse of a skull mask peering back at you. Using the little bit of clarity left in your head, you make a split decision, knowing you wouldn’t have time to stop before colliding with his large frame.

“we have pompom” 😭

Do you mind doing a platonic Jing Yuan/Blade/Gepard and reader as their child? (You can just pick one of those 3). It can be something like the child begging them through chat about they wanted to adopt a cat, or just the dads checking on their kids in general. You can just ignore this if you don't want to!.

Thank you very much💞

✎ i want a cat!! : hsr boys as dads

❥ new messages from :: blade, gepard, jing yuan, welt

❥ notices :: I really wish I could draw because I wanted to add a picture of Blade just sending a selfie of him with the cat attached to his shoulder bc it's biting him so hard vusdklhnoj

❥ taglist :: @donaldthrts @ashhh-14 @missotaku34