Undercover - Blog Posts

I’m Good At Being Fake

Midoriya was given an undercover mission. Midoriya disappeared one week in, somewhere in the mess. Todoroki and Bakugo were sent in to try and find Midoriya. While it was clear sending them in was a bad idea, the hero commission pushed it anyways.

Bakugo didn’t want to go simply because it was Midoriya’s mission and if he was undercover of course he’d cut contact. Todoroki on the other hand didn’t want to go in case this messed up the mission on Midoriya’s side. If they made one wrong move, it could be the death of Midoriya.

It’s takes them a week to find Midoriya. It was exceptionally hard because of his disguise as a white-haired woman in her late twenties. Midoriya had a quirk physically change his body composition as well. His scars, freckles, and other notable feature’s were changed. The most important part was Midoriya was given a female reproductive system, breasts and all. While the goal was to slim down the body to hide muscle, Midoriya retained all the strength he currently possessed. Midoriya was a walking grim reaper in disguise.

They managed to infiltrate the building they tracked Midoriya down to. Their goal was to locate him and report his progress back to the hero commission. When they got into the security systems, they spotted Midoriya on the screen.

Midoriya sat stone-faced in his desk chair, no ounce of kindness present in his features. Todoroki and Bakugo shivered at the sight. Sitting in a chair before the desk was an attractive man around Midoriya’s scripted age. The man was a stepping stone for Midoriya, a gateway to the main target.

It seemed as if they missed a chunk of the conversation, but they managed to come in at a good time.

“How about you just tell me what you want?” grunted the man, leaning back in his seat.

Midoriya’s posture remained steady. His legs crossed and his hands were clasped, resting on his knee. His expression did not falter as he said what he wanted. “Fifty-fifty.”

Bakugo and Todoroki were momentarily taken aback by the clear change in voice. It was oddly fitting. Not to high, not too low. It was strong, but the tone of his voice was bored.

The man chuckled, rubbing his eyes. Midoriya didn’t like that reaction, his eyes darkening as he glared at the man. “As I am assuming you’re buying the shitty stuff… with your typical drug dealer markup. The margin of your profits should be about five times as much as I make drugging people under the pretense I’m a slutty prostitute.”

Todoroki paused, his gaze snapping to Bakugo’s. Neither were filled in on what Midoriya’s backstory was to his fake persona. They did not know Midoriya was a “prostitute” and “drugging people” to make money. In a way, neither could believe Midoriya was capable of playing such a difficult role. Midoriya never once seemed like the type of person to take up a gig such as the one he was currently participating in.

“If it’s not… something’s wrong. I’d be more than happy to offer my services to fix it,” offered Midoriya. His tone was strict and demanding. His gaze was sharp and piercing and he knew how to use his tongue to his advantage.

The man smirked slightly, staring at Midoriya. Todoroki and Bakugo weren’t blind, they could see the fool undressing Midoriya with his eyes. Midoriya didn’t flash an eye, not giving any attention to the mans advances. Midoriya had a goal and no drug-lord was getting into his pants.

“You know… Ruma. You look good behind that desk,” complimented the man, revealing Midoriya’s fake name.

Midoriya gaze remained the same, not feeding into his fantasies by showing interest. “Thank you.”

Giving Midoriya a look up and down, the man smirked slightly as he spoke. “Damn… you’d look so much better on top of it.”

Bakugo and Todoroki’s breaths hitched. This fucker was horny and wanted to fuck Midoriya on that desk at that very moment. There was no denying he had intentions of screwing around with Midoriya. In a way, Todoroki and Bakugo couldn’t blame him. They’d never pass up a chance to fuck their crush.

Midoriya’s eyes were like a predator’s, remaining focused on it’s prey. “We have a deal?”

The man bit his lip slowly as he looked at Midoriya and then back to the top of the desk. He subtly nodded, seeming too eager to get laid.

“Yeah. Yeah. We are good… precious,” flirted the man, his voice deep and husky.

As much as Midoriya wanted to ignore it, the seduction was working a bit. There was something so arousing about knowing someone wanted to wreck him like a beast. Despite the urge to gain friction between his legs, Midoriya knew he needed to continue playing hard to get. If he gave himself up to this man, the chase would be over and Midoriya would find himself in cold water.

Midoriya’s poker face worked like a charm. The man looked increasingly more aroused with every time his advances got rejected. Getting up from the seat, Midoriya smiled softly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” finalized Midoriya, ending the conversation swiftly. Midoriya fixed the skirt of his dress before readjusting his hold on his purse.

Todoroki’s eyes slowly opened and closed, staring at Midoriya with an expressionless face. Bakugo’s eyes widened, giving Midoriya a double take. His hand reached up to cover his mouth as he continued to look Midoriya up and down.

Midoriya was in a skin-tight black dress. It was a square-neck with spaghetti-straps. The side of the dress had a slit going all the up to Midoriya’s hip. Once Midoriya stepped towards the door, his bright red stilettos were as clear as day.

Todoroki and Bakugo didn’t have much to report back to the hero commission after they stealthily escaped. All they could say was that Midoriya was alive and nailing his undercover roll. Midoriya even got them feeling intimidated and excited simultaneously. Midoriya would be back in no time.

Character b falls in love with their undercover life. They wish they could live this fictional life forever. But all good things have to come to an untimely end.

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part I

Warnings: torture, blood, pain, unconscious Ghost and basically kinda useless, really capable YOU persona ;), rushed writing, possible mistakes, reader is pretty neutral so far

P.S. Don’t judge the unexplained inconsistency of how a guy like Ghost gets captured, but spy you get to waltz around unbothered, yeah, you’re that good, so good you got plot armour. Besos!   

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

- the first time you meet it's messy. He's supposed to extract an agent from behind enemy lines but instead he gets captured

-  you pose as a computer science PhD who is in charge of the enemy base cyber security, when in reality you're there to install a backdoor with remote access.

- you know someone should come to help make your exit, but when no infiltration is reported panic starts to rise in your chest

- you start investigating, searching through the facility trying to find out if something happened.

- you gain access to a part of the facility you don't have clearance for.

- you stumble upon a gruesome scene in one of the holding cell in the underground levels

- you find a man tied to the ceiling, bare feet barely touching the floor, muscles stretching under the tension ready to snap

- a black hood is thrown over his head and he's shirtless, remnants of once black cargo pants hang on his hips.

- he was tortured, for days by looks of it

- you know enough about that to know that he hasn't cracked yet, otherwise he'd be dead not hanging there in the damp cold cell.

- you take your chances and take the hood off

- he groggily turns his head to look down at you, he’s a big that much you can say

- blonde whisps of hair matted to his scalp stained a dark red, pale skin the same blood oozing from small cuts on his cheeks dripping down on his pectorals. From behind black and blue and inflammation two brown eyes scan your face

- 'the wolf walks alone' you quietly utter the code phrase for identity verification

- he watches you like an owl watches a mouse with cautious patience but he gives no indication that he'll answer

- you can't stay there too long; someone might catch you here or someone could report that you never came back from the bathroom break

- you reach for the hood to place it back on the prisoner’s head, knowing that you can't do anything for him and in this state he can't even provide a distraction for you to slip out unnoticed

-as you get closer tiptoeing to reach above his head he grunts, you stop in your tracks making eye contact

- his dried and busted lips start to quiver you wait for a moment giving him a chance to prove you wrong

- 'But the pack's got its back...' he draws out in a deep guttural voice laced with a thick Manchester accent

- phrase matching your own, you get to work hastily finding a way to get him down

- as you unlock the chains wounded around his wrists you try to support his weight which proves impossible

- you barely manage to break his fall turning yourself in a cushion under his massive form

- you huff and try to pull him up ' I can't carry you' you mutter to him. 'You gotta get up, soldier' you try and nudge him, you slip and talk in the familiar British accent

- he stalls, taking in deep breaths trying to surpass the pain and ache, multiple bones broken, muscles tumefied, and skin bearing to many cuts and bruises. Blood covers him like a deathly veil

- he tries and with your help he manages to stand but he can barely walk on his own, he can barely see, he can barely think, having sustained multiple concussions

- with great difficulty you get moving, praying to yourself that the guard might be gone, taking a piss or having a smoke

- your prayers are answered, no one is on the otherwise busy hallways this late at night, many having called it a night going back to their rooms

- as you pass the med bay your quick thinking finds a credible disguise: you steal a lab coat and a doctor's key card, some glasses that make your vision blurry once you put them on, and get the wounded soldier in a wheel chair

-he huffs but you can clearly see the relief overtaking him as he no longer has to stand

-you throw a medical gown over him concealing the dried blood on his bare torso

-once you clean his face a little and bandage his whole head to cover his identity, you grab a few bottles of morphine and a med kit for later and push the wheelchair out the door

- you aim for the underground parking lot, where civilians’ workers such as your cover, keep their personal cars

-you hope that the sentinels stationed at the gates won't look too closely at your backseat as you carefully push the wounded man in the car

- everything goes smooth from there, the guards wishing you a good night, no questions ask as to your departure from the base

- once you get farther away you start speeding eyeing for any police cars that might stop you or any military vehicle that might chase you

- to your dumb surprise no one follows you the mountain road dark and deserted

- you head to your safehouse where you have stashed money, fake id's, a new disguise and another car.

- once you change everything and make sure that the soldier still breathes in the back of the SUV, after you've administered some first help giving him the relief of morphine, you burn everything down

- the wooden house the other car, everything, nothing can be left behind to be tracked to you or to the MI6, you have taken precautions that borderline OCD, but you know that you have to be through, no detail to small

- once you're back on the road you contact your handler, a tired voice but you can hear the sound of relief as he hears your voice

- he's pleased that everything went smooth, no alarm was triggered, no shot was fired, no chase happened and you even managed to save your would-be saviour, sent specifically to get you out of that den of wolves

- you announce your E.T.A. to the agreed pickup location and you are annoyed to hear you'll have to wait a bit, your nerves are starting to fray, and body to tire

- you don't have the manpower nor the firepower to make a stand in the woods until the heli gets there

-but you do as you're told, as always

- you grab the pistol you keep under the passenger seat and place it in your lap; the heaviness in your lap gives very little reassurance

- but not long passes and you can hear the lovely sound of an Apache helicopter

- in a whirlwind of dust and voices shouting out instructions both you and the soldier are placed in the metal beast's bowls

-you inform the medics of the dosage of morphine you gave to the soldier as they start hooking him to machines that monitor his vital signs

-you don't even know his name and he definitely doesn't know yours as per protocol, and you doubt you'll ever see him again

-you won't even be there when he'll wake up, he'll probably never know of your act of kindness; you could have left him behind but instead you risked your safety for his

- any other agent would've done it, but not you, you couldn't leave one of your own behind

- you still hold your breath, eager to cross the border and get back to HQ where meetings and debriefs will be held, and rapports will be written then redacted

-you expect the compliments at a job well done and the proud pats on the back from your superiors, even though for you that's just a show

- you know you will get a free month at best to recover and then you'll be shipped somewhere else to do it all over again

- it's a lonely life, and full of danger but it makes you sleep better at night knowing you helped soil some plans that could be used to hurt innocents

- once the pilot announces that you crossed the borders you slightly relax on the padded bench, closing your eyes in relief but not allowing yourself to fall asleep yet

- when you feel the heli dipping down towards the tarmac you open your eyes eager to get off the noisy thing and looking forward for some commodities you know wait ready inside the base

- you watch as the soldier gets rolled toward the med bay and you get pulled by a Sargent that informs you, he's there to take you to the commander of the base

- you'd hopped to at least get a few hours of sleep before the rounds of interrogations start, but the higher-ups are hungry for the confirmation of a successful mission

- you trudge behind the Sargent mentally preparing for the onslaught of questions and can't help but wonder what of the wounded soldier

-you subconsciously hope he'll pull through

Next part here.

This is the top part of a W.I.P. drawing for a future chapter in my fic that I am currently writing here ⬇️

If I posted the whole thing it would look so absurd out of context. Lmao. So, for now, enjoy a frightened Sherlock. Lol. 💛

(If you figure out what he is wearing, I promise it will make sense later on. Lmao)