#it's not negative for certain. just a little.. apprehensive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rose-tinted-kalopsia · 7 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, kissing, make up sex, soft sex that turns rough quite quickly, dom!caleb, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "baby" "pipsqueak", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 4.1k

Perhaps, yearning had a time and a place for everyone. But for the two of you, maybe it had gone on for longer than you could take, the slightest shift in the atmosphere ready to break that fragile little bubble of boundaries.

"If it were that easy to get a license, I wouldn't be here in your bed complaining, you know!" You scoffed, falling upon the soft mattress and dangling your feet off the edge. As Caleb laughed, easing into a spot beside you, you softened.

It had barely been a few days.

You'd get back from your exam, wrestling uncertainty with your results, and he was there—ready to listen, willing to offer a crying shouder if need be. You didn't cry, of course, only complained. But the mere presence of him by your side was enough to lull you out of your negativity, turning your talks into lighthearted moments for you to look back on and smile.

It happened often, with Caleb.

It was so easy to be with him, so easy to relax and just... be yourself, no questions asked, no image to uphold.

Ever since you were children.

It was just the kind of friendship you shared; the mutual trust, the mutual comfort. And you wouldn't have it any other way, except that...

Discreetly, you glanced at the figure beside you, Caleb also having gone silent, the both of you taking to stare outside the window of his room. He looked sentimental like this, almost, and pretty. The steadiness of his broad back... and the way you thought it would be nice, for once, to ruffle his hair instead of the other way around.

All familiar to you, all... cherished, by you.

"So... You'll be leaving again, huh?"

Your voice was casual, or at least—as casual as you could make it be. Yet, a certain apprehension settled into the pit of your stomach, and when he turned his head to face you, violet eyes glowing under the drifting moonlight, you felt yourself swallow thickly.

"Ah, well. You know the drill," he shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Yet despite the playfulness in his tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart churn. "My vacation ends, and I gotta be on my way first thing in the morning... Y'know. The usual."

You wished he wouldn't say it out loud, but you supposed you brought this upon yourself. You were the one that had asked, after all—yet you looked into his eyes, finding that you couldn't even bring yourself to look away, and there was nothing to stop the pout that slowly formed on your face. It was your turn to look away, almost as if refusing to look at him when you were like this.

"When will you be back again?"

He stayed quiet, for a while. If you looked at him, you would have noticed the little tilt of his head, the little smile on his face. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you wouldn't dare turn your head.

Caleb, after all, never missed an opportunity to poke fun at you.

"Aww, pipsqueak, are you that upset?"

You couldn't believe he would even question it.

Huffing, you glanced to the side, already noting the glint of mischief hidden in his eyes. "What, and you're not?" Your voice was sharp, but your retort lacking. Even Caleb knew that you were often more creative with your responses, and he had the audacity to laugh at your expense, almost delighting in the way you would puff your cheeks, indignance written all over you.

"D'you want me to be?" He grinned, leaning down to your height, searching your eyes. Always, you would think that his irrational penchant for being perceptive would be your downfall, and you knew this was no exception.

"...You're always so telling with your gaze."

Caleb shook his head, straightening himself only to reach out and ruffle your hair. It was just as he'd always done since you were children, and the gentle familiarity of it made you bow your head in resignation. "'Course I'm upset, pipsqueak," he sighed. "It's always hard to leave home, isn't it?"

His voice slowed to a pause, almost as if he could have continued, could have added to his words—but he didn't.

This time, it was your turn to be curious. If Caleb knew your reactions and your habits by heart, then you, too, could say the same about him. And sure enough, the more you studied him, even as he chuckled and turned his head away, the more you took note of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite find a name for.

Still, more than your curiosity, was your growing indignance at his words.

"...Is that it?" You mumbled, hands gripping at the fabric of your nightgown. "It's hard to leave... home. So it's not hard to—"

"Leave you? No, it is, pipsqueak. You are home."

His words caught you off-guard.

He wasn't looking at you when he said it—there was no trace of a blush on his cheeks, on his ears, anywhere—It almost made you doubt the seriousness of it, or why he would say something so... direct. Caleb wasn't usually expressive with you in this way; compliments, yes, but he'd never called you... home, before.

The word lingered weighty in the air.

But in the silence between you, and the more you thought of it, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. "Then—then—!" A frown formed on your face, watching as his eyes turned back to you when you spoke. "Then stay..."

It almost hurt you the way his eyes softened, teasing mirth replaced by a knowing gentleness. His hand edged closer to yours, body leaning ever-so-slightly towards you. "C'mon, pipsqueak... Y'know I can't do that..." he mumbled.

In slow, careful movements, his other hand reached to rest gently on your head, making you suddenly hyperaware of the way his fingernails would graze against the skin of your scalp, running through your hair in a sweet, tender stroke. He'd repeat the same motion, another silence weaving between the two of you, before his hand settled on the side of your face—the ghost of a touch, only barely feeling his palm press against your skin.

You held your breath.

"If I could," he said, "If I could. I'd be back here every week, spend every day with you like back when we were kids."

Feeling yourself slowly melt underneath the tenderness in his gaze, your shoulders relaxed, your grip on your clothing easing slightly. But still, your own eyes drifted to the ground.

Despite all your indignance, despite the terrible, terrible thought of having him go away from you again, you knew what he said was true. Caleb had always cared for you as much as you cared for him—it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that his absence hurt him equally as much, and that he would only put up a front for you, if only to be the solid foundation that he had always been for you, all these years up to this very moment.

Tears brimmed at your eyes, Caleb immediately shifting closer to place both of his hands by the side of your face, wiping them away with little swipes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry on me. You know I'll still be back on my next holidays!"

"But when?" You put in every effort to steady your voice, unwilling for it to waver in front of him, unwilling to let any more tears fall in the most obvious display of desperation for him that you've ever had. "How long will you be gone? Only to stay again for another week or so... Sometimes, you stay even less than a week. I've barely managed to have a proper conversation with you this time, and yet— yet—!"

You sniffled as your bleary eyes settled on his features, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hold. "Ugh," you scolded yourself, though there was no weight in the way that you did. "You... you make me feel like a little kid, Caleb. I'm not even supposed to be this selfish with you."

"Hmm. Aren't you? You've always been a little selfish with me, and if I'm honest, this isn't really too surprising." He chuckled again, and the playfulness in his eyes made a temporary return before he dared to step closer, inching towards your face. "But I don't mind, pipsqueak. 'Cause I miss you just as much, everytime I can't see you."

His words were warm. As warm as the way he looked at you, as warm as the way he held you.

As warm as...

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you, too, dared to step another line into something the two of you had never set foot in—almost closing the distance, almost giving in to the thoughts that probed your mind, almost—

You pressed your forehead against his, the both of you taking a moment to peek into new territory that had been brought out in the open. Your lips, now, were close enough to barely touch. You could see deeply into his eyes like this, too—the way golden flecks of light mixed with saturated, purple hues, and for the first time, you thought, you noticed... Caleb was a lot like the sunsets you would see on your way home.

"What's on your mind, pipsqueak?" He murmured softly, the rasp in his voice revealing to you just how much your actions had caught him off-guard, just how much he was straining not to step a toe out of line from whatever you wanted; whatever this was.

The tension in the air was unmistakable.

You could think; imagine, perhaps, his heartbeat was racing in his chest just as fast as yours was. Perhaps, you would be able to feel it for yourself, if his body was pressed up against yours...

You watched as his gaze drifted down towards your lips, and you flushed at the subtlest indication that he might have the same thoughts as you did.

"Caleb..." you whispered, placing your hand over his, tilting your head slightly to the side and holding him closer against your cheek. "When you're away, do you... Think of me?"

Silence; his eyes never strayed from yours, waiting, observing, attentive and careful to note how you would approach this situation.

"The way that you miss me... What is it like?"

A slow inhale, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Hmm, well... Maybe it's exactly in the way you're thinking of, right now."

"And... What would that be?"

"...Dunno, pipsqueak. What would it be?"

You smiled, seeing the flicker of a challenge in his eyes, but recognizing there to be equal parts of caution, still watching, waiting, waiting for you to make your move.

"Would you stop me?" You said finally, slowly draping your arm over his shoulder. "If I moved a little closer now, and then we'd..."

It was your turn to glance at his lips, so close to you, yet so far, almost blurry and out of focus with your proximity. You could feel his steady breaths against your face, and he didn't answer you. Instead, he took your words as his own confirmation, breaking the boundary, tilting his head as he captured your lips into a soft, gentle kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against yours, hands trailing down your face, down your back, settling on your waist—and then he pulled away, half-lidded eyes examining you closely. One beat, two—Caleb pushed you gently against the sheets, pressing close and flush against your body, his heartbeat racing in time with yours just as you had hoped it to.

"You... mean this, pipsqueak?" He breathed.

"...Do I lie that often to you? The reason I miss you so much, the reason I so badly want you to stay... Did you think it was because of whatever childish attachment I've had to you from the start?"

He nearly scoffed.

"Oh, what. And you're gonna call me oblivious? Like I don't see the way you look at me? Like I don't see the way you melt?"

This time you gasped, and a smirk played at his lips—his lips, ones that had kissed you just seconds prior. "You—! That's—!"

"I've known aaallll along, pipsqueak. But you've never had plans on acting on your feelings, right? So I'm just asking, 'cause... I don't want you to regret what we're doing."

Though feeling the weight of embarrassment begin to swirl in your stomach, your eyes softened.

Ah, you thought, he's always so considerate.

"What..." You searched his eyes, "What are we doing? What is this, then?"

"...You could think of it as me making it up to you..." Caleb spoke slowly. "Well, whatever this is, I could kiss you here for hours—easy."

You felt the heat rise back up to your cheeks—

"—Oorr..." He smiled, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "If you want a more detailed memory to keep you company while I'm gone, I could do even more than that. But your call, of course."

Immediately you understood what he was implying, and the mere thought of it turned you completely red in the face, pushing him away with a gasp.

"Caleb!" You cried out, and beside you, he laughed.

"Guess that's a no, then? Ah, well. No biggie, I could wait another few months or so. C'mere, and I'll—"

"N-no! I... I didn't mean it like that."

You cut him off quickly, chewing on the inside of your lip, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No? So what'd you mean, then?" Caleb reached out his hand for you to take, gently tracing his fingers over the skin of your palm.

"I... I'm up for it," you said, after a moment. "I mean... I don't mind. If you... If you wanna—do—what you were—"

You couldn't complete your sentence, and he squeezed your hand, another chuckle escaping his lips. "You would, huh? Have sex with me?"

His blatant admission had you burning, immediately pulling away once more to cover your face. "God, Caleb! Don't just say it like that!"

"Hey! I gotta be sure, don't I? Who knows if we were thinking different things?"

"But—! If you say it out loud, it sounds...! Embarrassing!"

"What, that I want to have sex with you?"

You could hear the infuriating melody of amusement in his voice, clearly pleased at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying this mental torture on you like he always did.

"Caleb..." You whined at the sound of his laughter, peeking through your fingers just enough to let him see your pout.

"Alright, alright! I'll stop!" He grinned. "...But seriously, though. It doesn't matter too much that I've been waiting, I can wait a little longer if you're not ready yet. 'Cause honestly? I'm just happy enough like this already."

Like... This?

Your mind drifted to his kiss, his soft, plush lips mingling with your own. It had lasted barely a few seconds, but even the mere thought of it made you weak. The mere thought of holding him—doing more—having him love you, tender as always, in ways that he had never before. You'd fantasized about it, sure. Undeniably. Sometimes you would sit in one of his hoodies, flushing at his scent and the way that you could easily reach down to touch yourself in it—

You never did, out of the mere fear that you would never be able to look him in the eyes if you did.

But now, his own feelings, his own desires, lay just within your reach. No matter how scary it was to dive into such a foreign, indiscernible place of your relationship... You've never had him closer to you, and you didn't want to let go of that feeling.

So with a shy gaze, you closed the gap between the both of you once more, kissing at his neck and feeling each shudder of his body zap straight down to your core. "It's okay," you mumbled, "I think... I'd rather not wait, either."

In a flurry of movements, you were back against his pillows, his body above you and arms and legs tangled in a passionate embrace. Unlike earlier, each kiss upon your lips had you gasping your air—almost starved as he mouthed at you, almost desperate to explore every curve of your skin in a way you didn't know he ever could be.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, panting as he pulled away, fingers slowly gliding beneath your nightgown, tracing circles over your stomach. "I'm actually, actually touching you like this."

"Unbelievable?" You scoffed, turning your head to the side. "I should be the one saying that. Having you touch me like this..."

He smiled. And then slowly, his hands traveled up your skin, bunching the silken fabric of your nightwear up and above your breasts. You saw him draw in a shaky breath, a tremble in the way he stroked your skin—"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Seriously, it's like a miracle, shit..."

"...Caleb, are you going to just tease?" You frowned, feeling vulnerable in the way he stared. Your body remained mostly exposed, revealed to him in a way that had him frozen with having never seen you so naked before.

But Caleb licked his lips, feeling them dry at the mere sight of you.

"Oh, baby, I wish."

There was a raspiness in his voice as he moved to yank down his sweatpants, chest heaving in the way he tried so hard to control his breaths.

Baby, he called you, and you could have sworn you let out a whine, the new nickname striking a chord inside of you more than you ever expected it to.

"I— shit. I really wanna take my time with you... Give you a whole experience you can think of 'til I get back, but you—"

A sense of urgency overtook him, and his hands were back on you, tracing your thighs, trailing up to press at your panties and nearly groaning at the patch of wetness he could feel.

You drew in a sharp breath.

"...Damn. It looks like I won't be able to keep my composure, not when I've thought about this moment for as long as I can remember."

His hand was pulling your underwear down within seconds, leaving your lower halves bare and exposed. The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, the sheer length of it having you momentarily speechless.

"W-wait, you're not—?!" A hint of panic rose in your voice as you sat up against the headboard, but he gently pushed you back down, towering over you.

"It'll fit," he spoke, matter-of-factly, reaching down to swipe at your cunt before bringing his hand up to your face. That smirk was there again, the tease in his eyes ever-present despite his promise not to leave you feeling unfair for too long. "You're crazy wet, pipsqueak. I think I'll slide in just fine."

His words brought a dangerous sting to your cheeks, feeling yourself clench around nothing, eyeing the slick that coated his fingers from a single swipe.

If, you thought, if he had those fingers inside of me, I wonder how deeply he would reach...

He leaned down to kiss you, almost as if reading your thoughts. "Not now," he murmured. "Maybe later. Maybe next time, when I get back."

You frowned. "Don't... don't talk about leaving when we're like this..."

"Baby—"

"No, Caleb. If I'm going to remember this moment, I am not going to think of it as the night before you go away again!"

Amusement flashed through his eyes, and the tip of his cock brushed lightly against your entrance, coating your clit with your wetness.

"Alright, I digress," he grinned. "But it's not an if, right? You will remember—and then you can busy yourself with the feeling of it whenever you need to. It's the whole point."

"...Busy myself?! What do you think you're—"

Your words were lost into a gaping moan, feeling his cock stretch at your walls, heat and pleasure coarsing through your veins in sharp, quick bursts.

"Fuuuuckkkk." He groaned from the throat, your hazy eyes making out the way he grit his teeth, his own eyes shut tightly as he pushed into you, all the way up to your hilt, gripping the headboard in ragged pants. "So..." he breathed, "So damn tight."

"Y-you're just—ngh—so big—"

It was almost as if he were intent on rendering you utterly speechless, barely giving you time to time to adjust before he was snapping his hips into yours. Every movement had him filling you up, thrusting into you balls deep, hips moving quickly, rhythmically, splitting you open with ease.

"W-Wai—iit— a-aahh—" Your back arched in raw pleasure, submitting to every ounce of desire that poured out of him. "Shit!" You cursed, head thrown back into his pillow. "So fast—Y-you're so fast—"

He only let out a hum of a moan in response, eyes finally opening, hands shifting to grab onto yours and pin them right up above your head.

"Oh, fuck— Caleb—!"

"Good," he rasped. "So wet, so tight, so—haah—so good—"

You clamp down tightly around him, greedily sucking his length in with the steady pulse of your cunt, moans breaking, body squirming under his grasp and the lustful heat of his gaze.

"Oh, god—sorry, baby, I can't—" Caleb's pace seemed to stutter with the way you clenched around him, pounding into you more erratically, cockhead hitting the spot that had you jolting. "You're too perfect, you're exactly how i've imagined—"

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you struggled to wring your hands free from his grasp, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him closer. And Caleb remained attentive despite his obvious euphoria, releasing your hands and leaning down close to you, grunts with every pump of his cock, almost needy for your heat.

The feeling was too much.

He was fucking you, and you couldn't think straight—you'd opened your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were spilling his name in ways you wouldn't have done otherwise.

"I love you, Caleb, I love you, I love you, I love y—nnh—leb— haah— I love you, Caleb—!"

It didn't take long after that for him to twitch in your cunt, and your walls fluttered around him, locking him in place as he stilled, spilling inside of you enough to have you leaking. It was enough to edge out a release of your own, and you trembled in his embrace, bodies locked in perpetual ecstasy.

And he was right, you would remember it.

Every slide of his cock against your walls, you'd remember it—and, with a pang, you realized... you'd long for it.

"...You're so cruel," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss at your jawline, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you with a sigh.

"Hmm, wow. First, an I love you without warning, and now I'm the cruel one?" He laughed softly beside you. "Was I too hard? Sorry, pipsqueak, you're much too—"

"I love you, Caleb." Your mind much clearer after your high, you repeated your words, albeit shy enough to still turn over and snuggle into his chest. "Just... how am I supposed to miss you like this?"

He reached over to put his arm around you, stroking your hair lovingly. "...Miss me...?" he spoke slowly, almost as if choosing his words with care. "It won't be for too long, pipsqueak, swear."

"But you don't even—"

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. "I mean, that's partly why we fucked, right? It should keep you busy enough while we wait. Now you have something more accurate to touch yourself to, and, hey—I wouldn't stop you!"

You had indeed come to a similar conclusion, but hearing him say it out loud like that had you looking up with a halfhearted glare.

"...Caleb, you're filthy!" You huffed.

But you both knew well that your words didn't amount to much, and he chuckled, poking your temple.

"Okay, okay. How about... Just to make sure you won't be too sad, we can have another round in the morning?"

"Caleb!"

He smiled. "...I love you, too, pipsqueak."

The warmth of his words, blending in with his familiar, most precious nickname for you, had you easily forgetting whatever trepidations you had in your heart. Maybe, you thought, whatever came with this new door in your relationship was worth it—especially if you could be in his arms the way you were now, listening closely to the lull of his heartbeat.

『 I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away; I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. 』

⁺₊ / an: ouh this req prompt couldve gone soooooo many ways and it was so hard to decide!! the word count proves i love him almost as much as xavier, but i also owe it to caleb x mc being so "treacherous" by taylor swift coded, and i will die on this hill!!!!!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace caleb #love & deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by mikeykuns #divider by cafekitsune #*ੈ♡. rose garden

721 notes · View notes

patricia-taxxon · 2 months

Note

Seeing your negative reaction to Void Stranger is really interesting, because System Erasure's previous game, ZeroRanger, was also largely disliked by more hardcore shoot-em-up enjoyers. Feels kind of like the devs are less interested in making games for the core genre audiences, and more for people who like the idea of those genres. People like me for instance lmao, I really loved these two games.

I don't have the puzzle game autism myself, but I enjoyed taking Void Stranger as a whole, if that makes sense? Not as a "puzzle game", but as a strange little space that I could roll around with my hands, and particularly secret hunting with some friends and collaborating on clues and ideas we each had. I enjoyed that it fostered that kind of social play, much like Tunic before.

Interesting. The only other datum I have about ZeroRanger contradicts this, someone told me that It was far more faithful of a pastiche than Void Stranger was, which got me very curious. I wonder if I'd like it, knowing nothing of the legacy of shmups.

I also haven't quite delved into the critical atmosphere surrounding either game, it's true that a lot of the steam reviews for Void are just like "yeah i was kinda apprehensive about trying a sokoban game but someone told me it was like outer wilds and damn yeah this is peak" but it definitely seemed to strike a chord with puzzle game likers too. To me, Void Stranger repeatedly seemed to tense up around the concept of block pushing puzzling, a majority of the rooms felt like empty windows to unparseable deeper layers of secrets or were otherwise just kind of easy, and made so much easier by certain secrets you discover later. It seemed hesitant to deliver any problem that existed as moves in its world rather than poems in your head.

I'm sure newgame+ is good, like it has to be, they have a really appealing system. Every other sokoban game that adds horrible fiddliness to the prospect of turning your character and moving in a direction has been some of my favorites in the genre, notably sausage roll & can of wormholes. I love how it makes Void Stranger's tiny little rooms feel like treacherous labyrinths. I'm thinking of just playing that, ignoring the secrets and just trying to get through it with no burdens to see if I can find the fun.

#cilantromixture #patricia taxxon ask

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melishade · 8 months

Note

Number 3 please? I recall reading this post where he's popular with children, especially those at the orphanage. I also remember reading chapter 9 in the fanfic where Optimus helped a little girls after battling Annie. I can imagine that when children first meet him, at first they'll be quite timid, due to him being huge, but they'll eventually gain the courage to touch his face when he kneels down before them and even ride on his shoulders.

This ask game

Oh, this is going to be a cute one!

"Are you...certain this is wise, your majesty?" Optimus asked Historia at the orphanage, electing to keep his holoform on for the situation.

"The orphans have never been able to see above ground," Historia explained, "And they've heard tales of the great metal titan saving the Walls over and over again."

"I suppose that is my point," Optimus continued, "Children who have never seen the sun or even the sky, might have a...negative reaction towards me."

"Are you kidding? Ymir brings her titan form out all the time. They love it!" Historia exclaimed.

"They do," Ymir agreed as she stood next to the Prime, "They crawl over me and use me as a slide.

"Still...," Optimus trailed off.

Ymir narrowed her eyes in suspicion before smirking. "Don't tell me the great Optimus Prime is afraid of children."

"I am concerned that I might hurt them," Optimus clarified, "I have been around humans even before I came to this world, but never this many. And never this small."

"I heard how gentle and kind you were to that little girl after the Stohess battle," Historia recalled.

"And you're always so sickening sweet and caring," Ymir added, "C'mon. Go make the kids happy."

"Hm." Optimus could only hum at that, "I suppose this would provide some sort of enrichment."

"Alright then," Ymir gave a genuine smile while Historia guided the Prime by the hand to the children.

"Hello, everyone!" Historia greeted. The children smiled and laughed and giggled at the sight of her, running up to her to try and hug her while calling for name.

"Okay! Okay!" Historia giggled as she wrestled her way out of their grip, "I have an exciting guest for you to meet!"

Historia gestured to the Prime's holoform, while Ymir stood right behind him. "This is Optimus Prime: the Metal Titan. He took some time out of his day to meet all of you."

The children stared at Optimus with curiosity and skepticism, but the Prime kept his composure. "Hello, everyone. I am Optimus Prime. It is a pleasure to meet all of you."

"You're not metal!" a kid called out, causing Ymir to bust out laughing.

"I suppose I am not right now," Optimus continued, "This is a human form. I use it to interact with others like you."

"Then how tall are you?" another kid asked.

"I suppose I am quite massive," Optimus answered, "I just did not wish to frighten you."

"We want to see your titan form!" the kids began to shout and plead with the Prime as they clamored around him. Optimus was a little flustered at the attention while Ymir was grinning ear to ear.

"Everyone give him room!" Historia got in between them and began to push the kids away, earning groans and whines from them.

"Is that something you really want?" Optimus asked them.

"Yes!"

"Yes, please!"

"You heard them!" Ymir said.

"I will...be right back," Optimus declared before deactivating the holoform, scaring the children for a moment before they questioned where he could have gone. The crowd saw Optimus' alt mode circle from behind a tree before approaching them. He stopped at a safe distance from them before transforming into his bipedal mode. The children watched the metal break down before reshaping into arms, legs, a body, a face, into a full-fledged giant. The Prime elected to keep the battle mask on and kneeled down to make himself look less imposing, but he could still see the children backing away in apprehension. However, it was Ymir who broke the tension.

"Don't worry!" Ymir reassured before leaning back against his pede, "He's completely harmless and docile."

"I heard he took out a bunch of titans," a girl spoke.

"Yeah, like a thousand!" a boy pipped up.

"It was actually a hundred," Historia corrected.

"But you see me leaning against him, and I'm completely fine." Ymir stood up, "I'll kick him for good measure!"

"Ymir, that is unwise," Optimus spoke, but the booming voice startled the children.

"Look, I'm trying to prove you're fine," Ymir retorted.

"Y-you're not going to eat us, are you?" a boy couldn't help but ask.

Optimus lowered his servo to the ground. "I would never harm human life."

Historia felt a tug on her dress and kneeled down to the boy who just spoke. He whispered in her ear, and the woman kindly smiled. She took his hand, and they two walked up together towards Optimus' lowered servo. Historia helped the boy reach out to the servo, mirroring another extended palm like he had. Optimus waited. He waited for the boy to get over his apprehension as he shut his eyes tight and reached out. When he touched the digit of Optimus' servo, the boy's eyes snapped open as he stared at it. He then looked up at Historia, who nodded in reassurance before turning his attention to the Prime who merely nodded. The boy then began to smile as he reached out both hands and hugged the digit.

"You're so warm," the boy spoke in a whisper.

The boy's bravery caused the other children to slowly approach and touch the Prime. Optimus grew tense once they felt comfortable enough to climb onto his body and treat it like a playground. He looked to Historia and Ymir for help, but the couple merely smiled at the sight.

"Does it feel weird holding us like this?" one asked.

"What's it like being so tall?" another asked.

"Your eyes are pretty!" a third complimented.

"Oh, thank you," Optimus said, "And I suppose this height is considered natural for me. I have been around for a long time."

"Are you ticklish?!" someone asked.

"I...do not think so," Optimus answered before noticing one of the children swinging from his digits, "Please be careful!"

Hanji had arrived hours later, and nearly busted out laughing at the sight of a bunch of children crawling all over Optimus while he was trying to be as careful as possible. They wished they had a photograph. This was adorable!

(Okay, so I have another pilot poll ready and someone asked for #13, but the rest are free game)

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

Note

How is Krulu's heat (if he gets those)? Does the staff team ~help out~?

[I was sure I had spoken about this at some point, but it seems not in much detail. Fem reader.]

Krulu's heats are all-consuming and devastating, as you'd imagine any siadar's rut to be. Especially for a little human vessel such as yourself.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, up to you), you've had many episodes of hypersexuality oftentimes mixed with deep starvation during the period Krulu was transferred onto you. Rutmate is a prime example of this.

Your body is forever tormented by Krulu's needs, and as his chosen, you are to dedicate yourself first and foremost to his needs. Krulu may make half-hearted attempts to keep you functional for the sake of The Clergy's momentum to be stable, but sooner or later he'll start fondling and fingering you to orgasm after orgasm until he has to manually drag you into his floor.

Although he seldom ever fucks his servants directly, Krulu beds many of them through you specifically. In fact, chances are you'll hunt your own coworkers down to fuck them absolutely stupid just so you can hear your lord's praise in your shared headspace while monsters twice your size babble for more and shout your names like prayers.

While staff members are permitted to venture into the lowest floor during this time period, there's no telling what will be done to them at the hands of Krulu, and many of them are apprehensive about the idea in spite of their possible interest. It's much safer to handle his lust through his vessel, you. It's filtered that way, safer.

Word that Krulu's in heat travels fast. Really fast. The entire establishment knows it as soon as they see your overheated figure stumble into the break floor, glazed eyes scanning everyone present, no doubt organizing things with your master, deciding who's to be broken first.

Although Krulu usually has no trouble experiencing sex and orgasms through your female form, at certain points, he'll form his own slit on your abdomen, and you'll have to learn to work with a proportionate imitation of his cock. Rejoice, it's an honor, you're the first to be granted such a gift!

No one's exactly surprised to find you waiting for them with a hand coiled around said siadar cock.

And, in all honesty, most of them love it.

You've told them all, and you'll keep telling them- There's nothing quite like a god's lust.

The most note-worthy negative side effect to Krulu's heats is that, well, you're an extremely powerful human with him in your body. Mood swings will translate themselves into very violent encounters very quickly. Staff learns to acquiesce and not irritate you early on.

Another notable one is that you tend to fuck your coworkers out of commission for a good bit, so there are days where the establishment simply needs to close down.

In very rare instances, Krulu will actually traverse the various floors of his own building, and no one is spared of his utter domination. Not even you.

#Krulu oc

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

Note

Hi! First of all, your stories are giving me so much comfort, you have no idea! And I don't know if you are accepting requests or anything, but I was on a bus home today, daydreaming as I always do, and a story idea popped up, and I don't know, maybe you are willing to give it a try to write it. Anyway...

I was listening to Moncrieff's song Warm while commuting and it made me think of a reader (won't lie, I imagined myself ehehehe) and Joe - maybe they are friends but she feels more, and maybe she finds a silver lining in everything that bothers him, encourages him and Joe is not really if his feelings are there yet, but he is definitely thinking more about her in a certain way. So, the idea is that he is so stressed out, so many things are going on, and he is being pulled apart by the industry, colleagues, people around him, journalists, and he finds himself spiralling and then one day he calls her, despite the time difference and she answers, sleepy and whatnot, and that's when he realises that she is the one.

I found that Moncrieff song so nice and I don't know, listen to it if you'd like, and if you won't write it or anything, it's okay. I just had to get it off my chest..

omg more people need to do this, this song is BEAUTIFUL hope you like what I've done with your request <3 Wordcount: 1.3K

---

Homesick

“Joe?” you answered, the thick of sleep in your voice clearly detectable over the phone.

“Hey,” Joe instantly regretted not checking what time it was in London before he called.

“My God, you better have a good excuse to call me at a quarter past six on a Friday morning.”

Earlier that evening, Joe had shut the door behind him and had let out a deep sigh. Homesick. He had really felt it then and recognized that the annoying negativity he’d been dragging around on his shoulders was a longing for home. He felt so far removed, now across the Atlantic in a city deeply impersonal to him and he wished he could will himself back into his flat in London.

London. Where he knew to find the exact spot of the bathroom light switch when he would reach for it in the dark of night. Where there were cups of strong builder’s tea just the way he liked it. Where there were after work drinks at pubs that would be filled to the brim with others who had the same idea when they walked out of their office buildings at 5. Where people responded to your “sorry” with their “sorry”. Where you were, right now.

Joe’s days in LA were complex, and his job involved many aspects he didn’t have any control over which started taking its toll on him. Especially now that he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a few days. On long days like this one, people would almost seem to handle him like he wasn’t a human being at all. They were all smiles and kind words, but the hours he’d have to work felt inhumane. They asked a lot from him. And that’s not to forget that when Joe would eventually find himself in the comfort and silence of the rented apartment, he’d be up late reading scripts, rehearsing lines, doing self-tapes and deep diving Wikipedia pages in research of characters he would audition for later in the week.

It left him frustrated, moody and snappy, which wasn’t Joe’s default setting, and he actively disliked this version of himself. It didn’t help that the days had started piling together and he’d let it build without mentioning it to anyone. He knew he had to when he’d taken a shower and het let the emotion hurt him in his throat rather than getting it out of his system by having a cry.

There only seemed one solution to his problem, besides actually cutting his trip short which he knew he couldn’t do, but he felt a little apprehensive. Should he bother you with this? You had bigger fish to fry at home – you didn’t need to listen to Joe complain about opportunities he’d been working towards for so many years. But he just wanted to hear your voice. He knew you’d at least be kind enough to make him feel better. Joe remembered how you’d celebrated his upcoming trip with him. The one he was on now. It felt entirely effusive, he’d been on many trips before for his career, but you knew this one would be different. “I know I’ve said it before, but I can feel it, Joe. I can feel it right here.” You pointed to where Joe thought your spleen was located. “I think this is where my conscience sits.” You laughed. “Trust me, you’re going to come back and not recognize this face, so let me pay for your beers tonight so you’ll at least owe me when you get back.” You’d dragged him along to a pub, pride shining out of your eyes at what Joe’s future held. Prouder of me than my own mother, Joe thought.

You and Joe had been friends for too long. You always joked that you crowbarred your way into his life and squeezed yourself in between Joe’s intrusive thoughts and insecurities. A heavy bench to perch yourself on, but your light could easily overtake that darkness within Joe’s mind. And he loved you for it, but it made meeting potential girlfriends so much more difficult, because none of them seemed to live up to what you brought him. They’d be so pretty, but then not as funny as you were. Or they’d be so funny, but they’d lack your soft care for him. Or they’d care so much, but would only listen to Joe and then not do anything to cheer him up. It was always something that didn’t feel right. You were hogging the seat on that bench in his mind that was reserved for a lover. And Joe knew it wasn’t smart, but he let you.

“Sorry,” Joe heard movement of duvet covers as you turned over in your bed. “It’s still Thursday here.” He chuckled through a wince.

A couple of seconds of silence followed, and Joe imagined you in the dark of your bedroom, tucked up in your bed with your phone pressed to your ear and your eyes still closed.

“How’s LA?” you asked, threateningly close to drifting off to sleep again.

“It’s great.” But then you heard it in Joe’s voice, he stitch of melancholy, and you forced your eyes open. Joe wasn’t doing okay.

“That bad?”

“No, really. It’s great! It’s just… it’s a lot.” Joe let his head fall back against the sofa he was sat on.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” Joe could hear the smile that played on your face. He was fine with you poking a little fun, knowing it would give way for bickering that held every potential to lighten his mood.

“You don’t really know what it’s like until you’re here. Until you’re in it.” He defended.

“You sound tired,” you observed. “Get some sleep, it’ll all feel better in the morning.” Your advice filled Joe’s chest with warmth. He knew you were right. “I’m so jealous I’m not there,” you noticed the rain hitting your bedroom windows hard. “It’s really pissing it down here at the moment.”

Joe closed his eyes. He’d love some rain right now, even if it was just to reflect his mood.

“You wouldn’t like it here. This place is heartless.” Joe didn’t exactly have the highest of expectations of LA before having visited, but the way homelessness and decay laid around the corner of the glamour and shine of Hollywood had left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You just say that because your heart’s in London.” You reasoned.

With you, Joe thought.

“How many days until you’re back?” you stifled a yawn, prompting Joe to do the same.

“Too many… like, eleven?” Joe wasn’t sure. “Maybe ten.”

And as you started getting ready to slowly ease yourself into your last day of work before the weekend, Joe started getting ready to finish his day and prepared himself for bed. It was almost as if you were there with him in LA, and simultaneously he was there with you in London.

You chatted about an issue at work as you both brushed your teeth – Joe could barely make out the words. Joe talked about an amazing restaurant he’d been to as you got dressed. The company he’d been in had ruined the experience, so next time, he said, he’d go there with you. You did your make-up as you offered Joe advice on how to find the silver linings, reminding him he was doing good things, great things for himself out there. Joe washed his face as he absorbed every bit of positivity from you that leaked through the speaker of his phone.

And when you opened the curtains in your living room, you could hear Joe close the curtains in his bedroom.

“Goodnight Joey, turn that big brain off, all right? Count to infinity if you must.”

“Have a good day at work,”

“Love you, sleep tight.” You tried your best to say it as a friend, but the butterflies in your stomach seeped through, just... slightly.

“Love you.” Joe tried his best to say it as more than a friend, hearing your butterflies and feeling his own in response.

—

The Taglisted: @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @bagelofthelord67 @nobody-000 @lluviamg06 @thatonefan-girl @kylakins88 - add yourself

#homesick #joe quinn #joseph quinn #fanfiction #requested #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #moncrieff #warm

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venusacrossthestars · 2 years

Text

one is the loneliest number

A/N- This fic is my baby and is the longest thing I have ever written. I want to give a special thank you to @arieslost she hyped me up the entire time and was my wonderful beta reader. this is a slow burn, so there will be a part 2.

Summary- Y/n ‘Condor’ L/n trust very few and works with even fewer, but when Laswell and Price send her to Mexico to work with the Mexican Special Forces and members of the 141. She realizes that her and a certain mask wearing individual aren’t so different and that maybe trusting people isn’t so bad.

Pairing- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

Word Count- 14.1k

Warings- guns, knives, blood, gore, injuries, death.

The smell starts to grow on you after the first hour. The amount of mosquito bites you’ve acquired has reached the double digits by the second. And by the third, the little creatures throughout the valley seem to welcome you as one of their own.

“Condor do you copy?”

“Yes sir, in position.”

“Go ahead and come on down, target is rerouting.”

With a sigh you shift up to your knees, stretching your arms above your head working out the knots and kinks that have developed from spending the past three and a half hours on your stomach. “On my way down now Captain.” You reply as you descend back to base.

“Aye, make it quick, Laswell wants us.”

“Uh-oh Price, what’d you do this time,” you taunt with a smirk.

“Not me. She specifically asked for you, I just happened to say I’d be accompanying you.”

“You’re not taking me down with you, y’know that right?”

“Not everything is a plan to take you down, Condor. You got to trust me.”

“I do Captain, but you know how it is.”

“Just get your ass back to base.”

“Copy that, Condor out.”

What would normally be an hour journey back to base was nearly cut in half. Once back, you made your way to where you knew Captain Price would be held up waiting for you. With a slight tremble you knock on the door and a gruff “Come in,” meets you in response. Opening the door you walk in the room, and are greeted with the familiar face of the one and only Kate Laswell.

Giving a curt nod, you address the older woman, “Laswell, to what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Hassan,” she replies curtly, “but you can personally thank him when you’re in Mexico.”

“Mexico ma’am?”

“Correct. After a failed apprehension of Hassan in Al Mazrah, we found American-made ballistic missiles in his possession. A recon mission revealed that Hassan hasn’t been working alone, he has allied himself with Las Almas Cartel in Mexico. We alerted Mexican Special Forces of Hassans’ presences but unfortunately the Mexican Special Forces was unable to apprehend him as well. You will be going to Mexico to assist members of task force 14,1 along with Colonel Alejandro Vargas, in the capture of Major Hassan Zyani.”

“All due respect ma’am, I don’t think I’m the best candidate.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have the best track record regarding working with a team.”

“I know that. However, I am not looking at your past, I am looking at your skills– skills I need for this mission to succeed.”

“Ma’am–” before you can continue, Laswell interrupts, “You are a fighter and a survivor Condor, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“What about Price and Gaz,” you ask looking towards the Captain who looks rather impartial to the whole predicament at hand.

“I have another assignment for them. I need them there in order to aid your efforts in Mexico.”

You sigh. Knowing fully well that you weren’t going to win this argument against the Kate Laswell, you bow your head in defeat, “Yes ma’am.”

“You leave at fourteen hundred hours, until then you are dismissed.”

“Yes ma’am,” with that you rush quickly out of the room. You don’t happen to make it far when you hear Price’s voice.

“L/N, slow down.”

You come to a stop and face Price with an unamused look.“This isn’t going to end well, Price.”

“You need to stop being such a negative nancy, everything will be fine.”

“The last time I worked with a team it endly horrifically, I am not looking for a repeat of that.”

“Aye, what are Gaz and I then? Chopped liver?”

“That’s different and you know it.” You give him a pointed look.

“Listen," he places his hands on your shoulders, "I know these guys and I trust them. If you trust me, trust my judgment. Ghost and Soap won’t let you down.”

“What kind of name is Soap?”

“You’ll find out.” Price says with a laugh.

The time spent on the ride to Mexico was used unwisely. Instead of prepping gear and mentally preparing for what was about to come, your mind moves to memories of the last time you worked with a team.

“My position has been compromised, requesting backup.”

“Negative Condor. Ground troop has priority.”

“Enemy is moving to my position, moving from position.”

“Negative Condor, stay there and wait for the Target.”

An explosion behind you encourages you to move your ass faster away from your previous position. “No can do Commander, Condor on the move.”

“Condor, get your ass back to your position NOW!”

The rough landing on the heli-pad reminds you that you’re in the present, not the past. Gathering your things, you hop onto solid ground and glance around, looking for your welcoming party.

“Sergeant L/N!” You hear from across the yard.

You spot two men off to the side, by a KrAZ-6322, you quickly make your way over to them. “Colonel Alejandro Vargas ma’am,” the older of the two introduces himself, then jabs his thumb to his right, “and this is my second in command Sergeant Major Rudy Parra. Welcome to Las Almas.”

“Thank you gentlemen,” you respond as you shake their hands, you glance around the base to see where the other men Price and Laswell had mentioned. “Where are the others?”

“It seems that you have arrived before your comrades.”

“Technically they aren't my comrades, this is your first time meeting them as well as mine.”

“I see, we shall then wait for them together!”

“So,” you begin, attempting to make whatever small talk you could, “what exactly happened with Hassan? My debrief told me that he has connections with the Las Almas Cartel and that Hassan evaded capture.”

“Si, it is true. Hassan was brought to Mexico so the cartel could smuggle him across the border. We failed to apprehend him before he crossed, and once we caught up to him and his men it was quite a fire fight and I mean that most literally. I had to pull Rudy out of a burning building.”

“Sorry to hear that, I hope you’re alright,” you direct towards Rudy.

“Lucky to be out with my life, many others aren’t and I am grateful for that.”

“Amen.”

It isn’t much longer before a transport lands on the runway and opens to reveal two men. One with a mohawk and the other clad in a skeleton mask; you had a feeling you knew who was who.

“Alejandro!” The one you presume to be Soap shouts out.

“Sergeant MacTavish,” Alejandro greets as he walks to met the men in the middle.

“Please call me Soap.” He insists while shaking Alejandro’s hand. Ding Ding Ding, right on the money.

“Lieutenant,” Alejandro begins, “Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

Soap quickly buts in, “Actually, I believe he prefers to be called–”

“That’ll do,” Ghost quickly cuts him off, surprisingly with a heavy accent. You’re left staring at the man. “Problem?” He addresses you.

“None sir, wasn’t expecting an accent that’s all.” As soon as the words leave your mouth it causes Soap to turn to you.

“And who might you be lass?”

“Condor. Laswell sent me.”

“Condor, like the bird?” Soap puzzles with a raise of his brow.

“Soap, like the cleaning product?” You quip back, smiling at his expression.

“That’s enough from you two,” Ghost interrupts, silencing the two of you, “Why didn’t Laswell inform us about you?”

“A last minute assignment, she insisted that I be here.” You answer with a shrug of your shoulders. You turn to face Alejandro, however you can still feel his eyes in the back of your head.

“Welcome to the ‘City of Souls’ mi amigos,” Alejandro says with widened arms.

The four of you walk back towards the trucks when Soap speaks up, “I’ve never been to Mexico.”

“This isn’t Mexico, this is Las Almas.” Alejandro points out as if it is the most obvious fact in the world.

“Shepherd’s contractors are inbound to reinforce. They’re bringing hardware, they’ll need room,” Ghost informs the Colonel.

You read some of the mission brief on the way here, admittedly less than you should have. However you were well informed that Shepherd was sending his own personal lap dog. Information that brought no comfort. Shepherd was a man who got stuff done and you respected that, you had to. However, it was how he went about getting said things done that you didn’t agree with. War isn’t pretty, you’ve experienced enough of it first hand to know. But Shepherd and his Shadows were a completely different story and Phillip Graves was a whole nother genre. Previous encounters have shown that he is willing to do the unthinkable in the sake of a so-called win.

“-safe house, ten clicks from here,” is all you hear Alejandro say as you climb into the back of the truck.

Sandwiched uncomfortably between two men in the Mexican heat in a truck with no A.C. is not how one would imagine their time in Mexico. Looking out the window you take in Las Almas. On the outside it seems like a lively town full of street vendors, families, and children playing and laughing. But, it runs deeper than that, you can see it in the shadows where the men with guns linger, you can see it in those who walk around wearing a skull mask. This causes you to glance at Ghost who also seems to be taking in the abundance of skull masks on the streets.

“With your mask you’ll fit in well here Ghost,” Rudy jabs.

Noticing the writings on one of the buildings, you speak up. “El Sin Nombre, The Nameless.”

“Si senora. The leader of the Las Almas cartel. The one who buys off the corrupt cops and causes the good ones to disappear.”

“Well, where can we find him?” Soap asks while shifting up in his seat.

“You can’t. No one knows who he is, but he is everywhere. The cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river, let's pray he’s still there.”

You approach the outskirts of the town of where Hassan is supposedly hiding. The five of you exit the truck and start prepping. Grabbing your Signal 50, you give it a quick once over. You then carefully check that your pistols are in their holsters, and that your knife is sheathed on your left side. Lastly, you grab as much ammunition as your vest allows you to. Doing one last pat down you ask Alejandro, “Where are they holding Hassan?”

He points at the white building towards the back of the town, “There.”

Nodding at his answer the company moves out towards the entrance of town. You are huddled off to the side as Alejandro counts down and Ghost opens the gate leading into a seemingly empty town.

“Civilians?” Soap questions over the radio.

“Gone. Cartel took over. This place is a hideout now.”

Quickly arriving at the next gate, you hear the panicked shouts of what could only be members of the cartel. Ghost opens the gate and Alejandro moves in dropping two cartel members before they have the chance to fire. You quickly follow behind and carefully scope the roofs and ledges for any potential threats.

Two more cartel members rush out from the left corner of a house; with their lack of armor it only takes one of your shots to the chest to drop him, Soap quickly taking the other. Moving to the corner of the house you quickly peer around seeing another cartel member taking shots from behind a half wall. Soap quickly drops him with a head shot.

“Nice shot Sergeant,” Soap responds with a quick head dip.

The others must sense that contact has been made as more and more cartel members round the corner, dropping one after another. Moving further in the town, you move house through house clearing room after room. Alejandro orders his men to set off a smoke deploy so all of you can move safely towards the house where Hassan was supposedly being held at.

Breaching the door you are met with bullets of the Cartel members. After making quick work of them, Alejandro radios that there is no Hassan on the first level. You quickly move to regroup with Soap so the two of you can clear the second floor. Slowly creeping up the stairs, Soap throws a flashbang and you tell him to clear the room while you cover him. Alejandro and Ghost are greeted with the sight of you, Soap, two dead cartel members and more importantly, no Hassan.

While Ghost, Soap, and Alejandro look around the room looking for hints to where the cartel might have moved Hassan too. You take up a position at the window, moving back and forth keeping an eye on the horizon for any movement. A glare catches your eye and you spot a group of armored vehicles heading to your position. “Guys, I think we have company.” You announce. The three of them move to the window to see exactly what you're seeing.

“The Mexican army,” Alejandro blatantly states.

“We got reinforcements,” Soap adds.

“Negative, remember what I told you about corrupt cops,” Soap nods his head, “that applies to army as well.” Alejandro starts barking orders to his men to fall back.

“What’re we doing?” Ghost asks as he takes cover behind the wall.

“We're covering my men, once they are clear we fall back.” Alejandro states. That is all it takes for you to drop down by the wall and perch your rifle on the edge of the window sill at an angle, silently tracking the Mexican Army’s movement.

“You want us to engage the fucking Mexican Army?” Soap deadpans.

“These troops are paid by the cartel, they are here to help the cartel protect Hassan.”

“Fucking hell,” you whisper out.

“Hold your fire,” Alejandro says, “We’ll dig in until my men are clear.”

You watch as multiple vehicles surround your position, with even more men exiting them. You take notice of their light armor as Alejandro orders to hold your fire until they get closer. You slowly shift yourself to see even more men with riot shields.

“Weapons free,” Alejandro shouts.

The first few shots crack the window until glass is shattered across the room. Quickly you start picking off the ones without the shields. Taking a moment to reload your rifle, you notice Ghost taking glances in your direction. You shrug them off.

Alejandro informs everyone that the weak spot in their armor is their helmets. Soap and Ghost start throwing grenades into the oncoming soldiers hoping to take out the ones with riot shields and confuse the others. Quickly taking advantage of the situation, you and the others make quick work of the remaining soldiers.

“The way is clear, we need to fall back,” Alejandro orders. He quickly leads you out the window of the former safehouse into the backyard that backs up to a mountain valley. Following Alejandro down the hill you continuously take glances back over your shoulder. “We’ll lose them in the mountains.”

“Army’s right behind us!” Soap informs.

“Fan out and stay close, we’re going to the bridge!” Alejandro barks.

“Copy that,” you reply, taking the right sticking close to all the trees and rocks for at least some cover.

“Army’s on us!” Soap shouts as bullets are rained down upon the company.

Taking cover you try your best to take out the snipers, “God I hate not having the high-ground,” you say aloud. Soap chuckles from somewhere beside you. Dropping to your stomach you army crawl towards a rock that provides you a clearer vantage point where you are then able to take more accurate shots.

“We have to move now!” Alejandro shouts as he moves down the trail.

You hear Ghost over the radio, “We can’t hold off an army. We need extraction.”

“Affirmative, Rodriguez call for extract.” As you move further down the trail the smooth descent shifts into ledges that you are forced to hop down. “Rodriguez what is the status on extract?”

“Nothing, sir. We lost comms.”

“Puta, lets keep it moving,” Alejandro stops waving you all through a more narrow path, “Hurry, through here. The mountain is blocking the comms.”

“Your man get the call out?” Ghost asks.

“Lets hope so.”

“And if they didn’t?”

“God help us.”

“Contact! RPG.” You hear someone shout.

“Condor! Take it down now!” Quickly scanning the soldiers you finally get sights on the one holding the RPG, lining up your shot you quickly exhale then fire.

Bullseye. The man drops to the ground while his fellow soldiers scatter around his body.

“Lets move it!” Alejandro yells. You all follow him to the narrow ledges that surround the outside of the mountain. “Watch your footing, this part of the mountain is unstable.” You follow Alejandro through the twist and turns of the mountains until you reach what seems like a dead end.

Apparently you aren’t the only one when Ghost says, “Looks like you lead us to a dead end, mate.”

“We jump from here.” With no time to process what Alejandro just said he jumps. Following his lead, not waiting for the others, you jump right after. Keeping your rifle close to your chest you feel the harsh impact of the skill water, the air leaving your lungs.

Coming to the surface you hear Alejandro asking everyone if they are alright, with a quick “I’ll live,” you begin swimming towards the direction of the bridge. The radio strapped to your chest comes to life with static of the familiar voice of Phillip Graves.

“Radio is picking up something,” Ghost says.

“Sounds American,” Alejandro replies. “Just keep swimming, use the rocks as cover, the further out we get the better the signal.”

As the water shallows you are met with more of the Mexican army. Using the rocks for cover, you reload your gun and readjust your scope. Once again you and the Mexican army are playing a deadlier version of peek-a-boo– the one who loses gets a bullet through their skull.

You encounter and take out more of the Mexican army as you push up-river. The water continues to get shallower until you see the bridge lined with vehicles. “Those aren’t ours!” You shout out as you take cover. “We aren’t going to be able to do shit against that armor,” you snip out. Soaked in a river with nowhere to go was far off from how you wanted this day to go.

“This is Shadow-one. Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close.”

“Who was that?” Alejandro questions.

“That’s Commander Graves,” you state, “he’s with them,” nudging your head in the direction of Ghost and Soap. Graves and his Shadows quickly unleash hellfire upon the bridge, you can faintly hear Ghost telling them that their shots are good. You watch as the bridge gives way and the Mexican Army along with it.

“No enemy movement detected, all clear. It’s good to see you guys.” You hear Graves say.

With a roll of your eyes you quietly say, “Sure it is.”

You must’ve not said it as quietly as you thought because Ghost looks back at you as he radios Graves, “Likewise, mate.”

You learn from Graves that there is a possible hit on Hassan only two klicks north. Ghost is quick to commandeer a vehicle and you all file in. The ride there is filled mostly with silence other than everyone’s labored breathing until Ghost speaks up. “Nice shooting back there Condor.”

A little startled from the random compliment you quickly thank him.

“Hey Lt., how come you never compliment me?” Soap complains.

Ghost doesn’t miss a beat, “I will when you give me something to complement Johnny.” The only response Soap gives is a quiet scoff and a shake of his head.

“If you know Laswell, how come I don’t know you?” Ghost continues his line of questioning from early.

“I prefer to work alone,” you reply, “it’s as simple as that.”

“Well how do I know if I can trust you?” Trust. What a stupid five letter word, means so little but yet so much. Trusting people has bitten you in the ass one too many times. Being alone was the only way to ensure your safety, but yet here you are in Mexico surrounded by people you didn’t even know existed until yesterday.

“Besides me just helping you guys and going against a nation’s army, I don’t know. But, I can say the same for you. Price told me that I could trust you but who knows.”

Ghost doesn’t say anything to that, instead he tells Graves to be on standby. After a quick agreement Graves and the Shadows will be assisting in the sky.

You quickly approach the target. Getting out of the truck, the four of you spread out and Soap is quick to mark your position for Graves.

It hurts to say but with the air support from Graves and the Shadows cornering Hassan was a lot easier than before. Air support’s rounds took most of the heat off of the outside while the four of you cleared the buildings. Graves informed you all that the army’s convoy was only 3 clicks out as you entered the compound.

“Positive ID on Hassan, he’s moving to the second floor,” Ghost comms.

You and Soap are quick to go up the stairs after Hassan as he scurries along the roof like the rat he is. Hassan runs into a room on the second, you and Soap continue to follow. Slowly you peer around the door frame and take out Hassan’s armed guard. The man himself is currently unarmed, everyone rushes in barking Hassan to get down. The only words the man can get out is “Who the fuck are you?”

With exfil only two minutes out, you quickly move Hassan out of the compound towards the rendezvous while the Shadows take care of the Mexican convoy. By the time you make it to the rendezvous Rudy is already there waiting for you. You move Hassan around back and shove him in the trunk, the rest of you file into the car.

“Shadow-One package is secure, we’re RTB,” You radio to Graves.

A moment of silence passes by before you try again, “Shadow-One do you copy.”

“Affirmative Condor.” Graves pauses before continuing, “Shepard didn’t say anything about you being stationed out here, so let's just say you surprised me.”

“I’m sure I did.” You say with a humorless chuckle.

Waiting for Graves to arrive was easily the most boring part of your day and rightfully so. All you wanted to do was take a shower, stretch, eat something, and feel the sweet release of sleep.

“Condor,” Alejandro pulls you aside, snapping you out of your blissful daydream, "I want you positioned in the field before we pull Hassan out in case he tries anything stupid. He gets loose or anything you have my permission to shoot, understood?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, grabbing your gear and heading towards the tall grass that you spotted when you first arrived. Laying down on your stomach, you position the butt of your rifle against your right shoulder and press your cheek against, it using your eye to peer through the scope. You follow along with Alejandro's movements as he drags Hassan around.

The meeting unfolds rather quickly and while you can only make out a few words you can tell that Hassan has no plans on telling where the other two missiles are. After a few minutes the bag is placed back over Hassan’s head and he is thrown back into the trunk. You prop yourself up and emerge from the grass and come face to face with the man who left you for dead.

Graves meets your eyes and for the first time, and even though the two of you spoke earlier his face pales, “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost commander,” you taunt.

“Yeah one’s over here,” you hear Soap say behind you. While Ghost doesn’t verbally respond, a grunt from Soap means there definitely was a physical one.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he gestures around, “well, here of all places.”

“Yeah, I bet you were expecting me dead.” There’s no need to sugar coat it. Commander Graves, Shadow-one, Shepherd's personal lap dog had left you to die.

“Condor, come on. You know what happened, you know the truth. You’ll have to trust me when I say it was not my call.” There’s that fucking word again. Trust.

“Of course Commander, all water under the bridge,” you say with gritted teeth.

Graves pats you on the back, “Glad to hear it. We better get back to cut Hassan loose. Hopefully Laswell gets what she’s looking for.” He passes by you towards his truck while you make your way over to where Alejandro, Ghost and Soap stand.

On the drive back to the base after disposing of Hassan, you could tell that everyone is eager to ask a question that plagues their mind. A few more moments of tension filled silence pass before Soap speaks up, “Fine I’ll bite. You and Graves know each other. And he left you for dead, like dead dead.”

“You have suds in your ears there Soap? Yes, dead dead.” you begin, “I was assigned a mission in cold ass Russia with the rest of the Shadows. I’m out there for several hours, having taken out Russian forces one after another. Finally, the Russians find my location and I am requesting back-up and I am denied. With no other choice I radio in that I am moving and that fuck tells me to stay put to take out the target. So I do, trusting my Commander. The fighting dies down, I am radioing in for extraction and he tells me there is nothing he can do for me at the moment. That he has been ordered to retreat.”

Soap cuts in, “He said there was nothing he could do. He was ordered.”

“Happened to be complete and utter horse shit. He made the call. And we all know better than anyone that we don’t leave any of our own behind.” You glance over at Ghost who has been staring at you this entire time. You can almost see a glimpse of understanding in his normally cold, empty eyes. You finish off still looking at Ghost, “I don’t trust him.” This seemingly snaps him back into reality and he turns his head to face the back of Alejandro's seat.

The rest of the journey back to base is quiet, everyone exhausted from a long day of work. Once at a stop you basically fall out of the car, stumbling to a stand. Alejandro and the others wish everyone a good night. You are on your way to the barracks when all of a sudden a rough hand grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you against a truck. A forearm is quickly shoved across your chest keeping you pinned. You don’t even have to look up to know who it is.

“Ghost, what are you doing?” You asked unphased, finally looking into the eyes of the man who towers you.

“You say to not trust Graves, but why should I trust you?” He questions, “Supposedly Shepherd doesn’t know anything about you being here and yet you told us Laswell sent you.”

“Laswell did send me. I don’t know what she tells Shepherd, and I sure as hell don’t know what Shepherd tells Graves. Go ahead and ask Price then if you have reason to doubt me. He was there the entire meeting and it seems that he sure knows you.”

“Why didn’t Kate send Price instead?” He asks, dropping his arm back down to his side.

“I asked her the same thing. She said that she had a mission already planned for him and Gaz. You don’t have to believe me Ghost, however I think you should heed my advice and listen.”

Ghost backs away slowly, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know Ghost,” you call after the man, “you and I aren’t so different. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you.”

With that you turn from the man and walk away.

The following evening you, Alejandro, Ghost, Soap, and Graves stand on a bridge overlooking a house that resides one of the Las Almas lieutenants. A quick debrief informs you that the members of the cartel are holding a meeting about none other than your little company. You needed to get in there and learn how the cartel was helping Hassan and where those other two missiles were. How? The only plan you could all seemingly agree on which didn’t automatically end in a blood bath was to send someone in as bait. “I’ll do it,” Soap volunteers.

“Are you sure hermano?” Alejandro asks. “The cartel, they don’t play by anyone's rules other than their own.”

“I’m sure. We came here to stop those missiles. I’ll offer up any information they want in exchange for a meeting with El Sin Nombre.”

“It’s a bold move,” you begin, "ultimately a stupid one, but bold.”

“Condor and I will take overwatch,” Ghost states, “Graves and the Shadows will circle the target in a helo.”

After preparing Soap for his intel extraction you all move to your positions. Ghost on the south side of the house while you remain on the north. “Ghost, do you copy?”

“Affirmative Condor. Lost sight on Soap. Do you have a visual?”

“Negative. He entered an elevator and there’s been no activity on the other floors. They most likely took him to a basement or cellar.”

“Copy that. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Copy that.”

You and Ghost spend the next ten minutes in silence, watching the house looking for any sign of Soap or Alejandro until he speaks up, “How?”

“Come again?”

“You said that we’re not so different, how so?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

Before Ghost can say anything else, Soap comes through on the comms. He confirms that El Sin Nombre is on the third floor penthouse, but in order to get up there he needs a keycard. A keycard that only the drug lord's lieutenant carries.

“Soap,” you begin, “there is roof access to the second and third floor. However, it's swarming with guards. Or you can get that keycard either way I can pick them off, keep us informed.”

“Going for second floor via roof access.”

“Use the air conditioning unit to your left to get on the roof, all other access points on the north are blocked.”

“What about the keycard?”

“Your call. You could use the trellis to climb onto the third floor.”

“Trellis it is. Too many bodies surrounding Diego, would catch too much heat to take them out.”

“Multiple Cartel. Ghost, you and I will have to clear it. Soap, stay low.”

“Copy that Condor.”

Shifting the butt of your rifle against your shoulder, you line up your first shot. The member closest to Soap. With a pull of the trigger the first cartel member is down in a second. Reloading the chamber, you and Ghost make quick work of the Cartel members in Soap’s path.

“Amazing precision Condor.”

“Well I’m not called Condor for nothing.”

“Why do they call you Condor?”

“Focus on the task at hand, Sergeant.” You shake your head at Soap even though he can’t see it.

“Well, you’re no fun.”

Soap and Alejandro eventually make their way to the penthouse where they engage El Sin Nombre. You can barely make out who is who through the windows of the penthouse.

“I have no clear visual on any targets in the penthouse, sorry but you boys are on your own.”

“Copy that Condor. The Shadows and I can handle it,” a familiar voice comes over your walkie.

El Sin Nombre is quickly taken into custody and brought back to the base for ‘questioning’. You learn that El Sin Nombre, whose real name is Valeria, and Alejandro once served in the military together. Graves didn’t seem to really care for the not so friendly reunion nor why she does what she does.

You could tell that it really got under his skin when she insisted that he and her were more alike than they think. Your mind immediately goes to what you told Ghost; your eyes shift over to the man only to see that he is already looking back at you. Turning your attention back to Valeria and Graves, he no longer seems to care what she has to say about her profession, instead shifting his questioning towards the missiles.

“You need me, you won’t find them without my help.” Valeria says, staring directly at Alejandro. She’s trying to get under his skin, and from where you stand you can tell it’s clearly working.

“No, I’m not going to do this. We can find those missiles without your help.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Soap interjects.

This causes Alejandro to stop in his tracks, only seconds away from storming out the door, “ No, that’s where you're wrong. It changes everything. If you make a deal with her, it won’t end well.” He opens the door but before he leaves he takes one last look at Valeria and says, “You’re a disgrace.”

A slam resonates throughout the storage container that the so-called ‘interrogation room’ is in and it is quiet for a moment before Graves speaks his list of demands. To which Valeria responds with hers, and like the fool Graves is, he accepts.

Shepard’s debrief gives the following information: there is an abandoned oil rig 400 nautical miles off the shore of the Gulf of Mexico. 500 meters northeast from said oil rig is an anchored cargo ship. The rig is said to hold a container similar to the one found in Al Mazrah. Splitting into 2 groups, Graves, Soap, Alejandro, and a team of Shadows are to board the rig and disarm the missile. Ghost is to lead an assault team on the cargo ship that is made up of yourself and another team of Shadows.

The rain felt like needles against your skin as the boat sped across the water. While the storm didn’t provide ideal boating conditions, it works in your favor to conceal you from the enemy. Your boat breaks off towards the cargo ship while boats Alpha and Bravo head towards the rig.

After getting confirmation that both Alpha and Bravo team have made contact the Shadows secure a line to the deck of the boat. Hoisting yourself over the rail, you land as lightly as you can on the deck and crouch towards the nearest container for cover. As everyone else takes their positions, you notice that the rain mixed with the rough waters is enough to cause the shipping containers to slide easily around the deck of the ship. “Keep an eye on those containers. Try not to get crushed by them.” You advise. From the corner of your eye you spot the familiar reddish flame of a flare. “Well shit.”

“Ghost, Condor. They are signaling the ship. They are going to launch that missile.” Soap comms. After hearing more commotion over the radio, it is clear that the controls are not on the rig with the missile but are here on the ship.

“Ghost we need to clear out as many as we can so Graves can get to that control panel.” You shout over the sound of the rain. Ghost moves from his position, driving forward while you take out some of the shooters on the second and third levels.

Ghost doesn’t notice that a cartel member is behind him on his six; quickly you take aim and pull the trigger. The cartel member drops forward and this is enough to catch Ghost’s attention as he looks down at the dead cartel member then up at you. The only response you give to his stare is a slight nod.

You eventually move up on Ghost’s position. “We wait here for Graves and Soap, we’ll draw out the fire and then storm the bridge once they reach our position,” he tells you.

“Copy that.”

Graves and Soap finally make it to the shipping container that you and Ghost have been using as cover. “The bridge is where the controls are. Watch for the shipping containers and watch your footing.” You tell the two men. “Oh and Soap, try not to turn into bubbles.”

“Condor, now is not the time.” Graves reprimands.

With an eye roll, the four of you move out towards the bridge. In hindsight, you should’ve taken your own advice as you lose your footing on the slippery floor. While you don’t fall it causes you to lose your balance and in that time trying to recover you fail to notice the shipping container coming your way. A rough hand on your bicep pulls you forward away from the sliding container.

Not knowing who pulled you away from basically becoming a squashed bug, you quickly wind up to punch the person who still grips your arm, only to stop when you see the familiar white skull mask staring back at you.

“Thanks Lieutenant,” you gruff out shaking your arm from his grip.

“Graves and Soap have made it to the bridge, I’m going in for reinforcements. You stay here and keep the deck clear.”

“Yes sir.”

Ghost quickly leaves for the bridge. Moments pass and after taking out the occasional cartel member you hear Graves in your ear, “Get ready for a firework show everyone.” You look up into the sky towards the rig only to see the missile launching up then turning back around to target the rig. The missile hits the rig, and you brace yourself against one of the tied down containers. You tuck your head in between your legs and cover the exposed parts with your hands. Debris and ash rains down on you. The heavier, larger pieces seem to stick to where the outside of the rig once was.

“Condor, you alright down there lass?”

“Affirmative Soap, just a little banged up. Nothing a good shower and night’s sleep can’t fix.”

If there was one word to describe what you were feeling on the way back to base the word you would use would be tense. Instead of feeling relief of finding another one of those damned missiles all the Shadows seemed on edge. This caused an immediate edge to wash over you.

Reaching the gates of the base, the truck slowly rolled to a stop, confusing everyone in the truck, yourself included. Stepping out of the truck you weren’t met with the familiar sight of Alejandro’s men, instead the full black outfits of the Shadows.

On high alert you step around to where Soap and Alejandro stand. “What the fuck is this!” Alejandro shouts gesturing at all the Shadows.

“This is the future. Now step away from the gate,” Graves says. You take a look around, noticing how all the Shadows are ready for a fight. Taking a quick glance at Ghost on the other side of the truck you can tell he notices the same thing.

“This is my base,” Alejandro points out.

“No, this is a sizable covert facility and I admire it, so I’m taking it. Thank you for your service, you have been relieved, go take a nice vacation and don’t worry yourselves about this.”

“You son of a bitch,” you say aloud.

“I’m calling Shepard,” Soap interjects.

“General Shepard sends his regards. He said you wouldn’t take this lightly.”

“You’re out of line.” You say as you take a step towards Graves, “But I think you know that.”

“No, n-n-no. Don’t do that,” Graves points and waves his finger at the lot of you. “Don’t do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Oh y/n, you weren’t even supposed to be here.”

“You have no right to call me that,” you say as you take a step forward, but as you do so the Shadows behind Graves. Soap grabs you by the shoulder, stopping you from moving any closer to the man you want to throttle.

“You’re right I don’t, not after I left you there to die in Russia.”

“Oh you motherfucker!” But before you can move forward Alejandro steps in front of you.

“I don’t take orders from you gringo.”

“Let’s not do this, soldiers. Shepard put me in control of this operation from here on out. So stand down.”

This only pisses off Alejandro more, “Who the fuck do you think you are? My men are inside!”

“Your men have been… detained.” Graves says with a smirk.

All hell breaks loose as Alejandro lunges towards Graves but is quickly thrown against the side of the truck and detained. For the Shadows this must be their green light because the one next to you is quick to raise his gun. You quickly elbow the top of the gun down; the dumbass must’ve not been expecting it because it slips from his hand. Your moment of glory is short lived as you are then shoved into the side of a different truck which you head whips against.

Briefly stunned, the Shadow pulls out his knife and you can only contort your body enough to where it lodges itself in your upper arm. Hearing the commotion around you could only mean that Soap and Ghost were giving the Shadows the same exact trouble you were.

Using all your strength you push the Shadow off of you and step behind him while twisting his arm around his neck. As you force him to choke himself, you grab your own knife and sink it into his neck repeatedly.

Shots go off and you use him as a human shield. You can faintly hear Ghost telling you and Johnny, which if you were more in it you could put together that it was Soap, to get out of here. Moving to the cement barriers you drop the Shadow’s body and hop over into the woods that surround the base.

Quickly weaving in and out of the dense forest you make your way into the city. You briefly bunker down in an alleyway to remove the knife from your arm. With what minimal supplies you have in your med pack, you quickly disinfect the stab wound and bandage it as tightly as you can. Checking your head and neck you pull your fingers away noting the blood that coats them. A definite head wound and with the stars you’re seeing, a definite concussion.

Flipping through the channels the only thing you hear is Graves and the Shadows. You continue flipping until you hear, “-in the blind. How copy?”

“Soap?” you question.

“Condor. Thank Jesus.”

“Heard from Ghost?”

“Negative.”

“Are you alright?”

“Been better. Gunshot wound to the shoulder. How ‘bout you?”

“Stab wound to the arm, head wound, and definite concussion.”

“Condor?” A familiar accent asks.

“And Soap.” Soap scoffs.

“I’m here,” you pauses as you hear a cluster of footsteps in the distance. You quickly respond to Ghost and Soap telling them that you hear something.” Moving from your seated position you quickly hide behind a dumpster. “I have Shadows trailing me, Condor out.”

Having lost your rifle in the whole ordeal you are left with only your pistol, your knife, and the knife you pulled out of your arm. Looking around you spot an empty bottle, quickly you pick it up and chuck it in the opposite direction.

Using the distraction you sneak back around the corner and into a random side shop. Seemingly empty you sneak up the stairs to see if you can get a better look through a window. And what you can see makes you sick.

The streets of Las Almas are littered with bodies. Death in war wasn’t uncommon, you’ve seen your fair share and participated in far more. But these people weren’t at war with Graves and the Shadows. Graves might have thought that way but these people were just trying to survive. While their means of survival weren’t technically legal or just, who were you to judge? Tuning back into the channel you hear Soap, “Graves and Shadows are on a killing spree.”

“Sick fucks.” You respond.

“Condor what is your location?” Ghost asks.

“Second floor of a random shop.”

“Can you see the Church?”

“Affirmative.”

“Rendezvous there. Then we’ll figure a way out of this.”

“I have four very important words. I. Told. You. So.” You’re fuming; if this was a cartoon there would be, without a doubt, plums of smoke coming from your ears.

“We will discuss Graves’s actions once we are all out of here together, is that understood?”

“Loud and Clear Lt.”

“Copy that.” With your response the comms once again become silent. Moving back downstairs you hear someone come through the front door. Glancing from the stairwell you see a Shadow. Slowly you move from the stairwell to behind the kitchen island. You wait for the Shadow to pass you before you grab his legs and drag him to the ground behind the island. Taking your hand you quickly press it against his mouth and with your knife you slice his throat.

You move house through house occasionally checking in with Soap and Ghost. A dozen Shadows later you are only a block away from the Church in what once was a small eatery. With your knife drawn you quickly set about clearing the place. Entrance way, clear. Dining room, clear. As you open the door to the kitchen, an arm wraps around your neck. Quickly you pry your hands in between your neck and the attacker’s arm, then you drop to your knees and muster whatever strength you have left to fling the man over your right shoulder. Moving quickly you straddle the man and prop your knife against his throat before realizing this isn’t any ordinary man, this is Ghost

“I have two lists Ghost, a short one and a long one. And I strongly recommend that you pick the short one,” you say without lifting the knife. You’re not dumb, if Ghost wanted you dead you would have been flippled over and have bled out by now.

“What’s the difference?” He seems unphased by the ordeal.

“One is of people I trust, one isn’t. I have the feeling you know which is which.” You say moving off of him. “Church is only a block away, I say we make a break for it.”

Before you can continue, Soap’s voice cuts through your earpiece. “I’m in the Coffee shop.”

“Get me a tea,” Ghost responds.

“I could use a couple shots of espresso if ya don’t mind.”

“You two owe me for this.”

“For what.”

“We’re fixing each other’s problems.”

“What’s my problem?” Ghost deadpans.

“Your mask, take it off.”

“Show my face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?” Soap teases.

“Quite the opposite.”

You turn to Ghost, raising an eyebrow before you hop in on the conversation, “Am I interrupting something? Because if so I can give you the room Ghost.”

“You’re with Ghost?” Soap asks.

“Affirmative.”

“So much for no man left behind.”

“No,” you say. “We’re not leaving you. I know that feeling and it’s not happening on my watch.”

“That brings me to you.”

“Me for what?”

“Your problem.”

“My problem?”

“Yeah Condor. Tell us about yourself. We know nothing other than your name.”

You’re silent for a moment, Ghost looks at you and you stare back at him before answering Soap. “Y/n. My name is Y/n L/n. I graduated top of my class and quickly made my name Condor. It isn’t uncommon for us snipes to pick call signs after birds, seeing that we are known for our sharp eyes. However, the Condor is a bird of prey. They are one of the more inquisitive and intelligent birds of prey. To my first team I the perfect embodiment of one, I could stay in my positions for hours, I seemed to figure out everything before them.” You take a long pause breathing in and out but you don’t break eye contact with Ghost. “Until we got ambushed. I failed them. I didn’t see the incoming enemy troops. My one fucking job. Got them all killed, myself captured. After I was rescued I was told it wasn’t my fault. But it seemed that I was being punished for my failure because every team I was assigned to, it ended horrifically. You already know about Graves but there were others. Eventually I took it as a sign and figured I should stay true to my name. Seeing as condors are solidarity birds, I decided to work by myself. It was like that until I met Price and Gaz. They are the only ones I trust other than Laswell.”

“I’m sorry Condor.” Soap says apologetically, “Even if we don’t know the whole story, I’m sure you weren’t at fault. Survivor’s guilt is a real bitch, right Lt.?”

At the mention of his rank Ghost snaps out of his trance, “Of course.”

“Why’d you tell us all that?” Soap asks.

With a shrug of your shoulders you respond, “You asked, and besides I’m adding you to a very short list.”

“What list?” Soap questions.

“The list of people I trust.” You look at Ghost and you hope he understands why you did what you did.

“Soap. Condor and I are only a block away from the Church, hurry your ass up.”

“Yes sir. Soap out.”

Breaking the heavy silence you ask Ghost, “Shall we get a move on Lieutenant?”

“Lets go.”

The two of you somehow run into no trouble on your way to the Church. You make your way in, safely barricading yourselves from the Shadows outside. All the adrenaline seems to be wearing off as the pain in your head becomes stronger. Wincing, you reach up to touch the tender spot.

“Are you alright?” Ghost asks.

“Yeah. At the gate with Graves one of the Shadows pushed me against the hinge of the truck door. Bleeding hasn’t stopped.”

Carefully you watch with surprise as Ghost moves from his position in front of you to behind you. What surprises you more is when he parts your hair to get a better look at the wound, his fingers feel warm on your cold, damp skull. “It’s definitely going to need stitches. Concussion?”

“Think so, vision’s been spotty. Not seeing double, however, been getting those little lights that go in and out of my vision.” There is nothing you can do for your head at the moment instead you and Ghost wait in silence for Soap, every so often scoping the outside of the Church.

Soap is in the tunnels and is almost at the Church when your vision gets worse. Black dots move in and out as you start to sway side to side. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Ghost who keeps glancing back at you.

“Soap is making his way through the shops, he’s almost here. We’ll commandeer a vehicle from there.” Ghost says as he takes positions at one of the windows looking for signs of movement. Hearing a shot ring out you assume that a Shadow was close.

“Condor was that you?” You hear Soap question.

“Negative Sergeant, concussion has left me out of commission.”

“Just get to the Church Johnny.”

“Roger that Lt.”

With Ghost’s shot the Shadows finally take notice of the Church, getting up you move from your position you move to the ground floor. “Soap we got company. Lets just say they aren’t coming in for forgiveness.” Ghost radios in to Soap. With that, the barricade you and Ghost had assembled early in the night gives way and multiple shadows move through. You and Ghost move the front steps of the Church. On the other side of the fence you are met with the familiar sight of Soap.

You hop the fence shortly followed by Ghost, your balance waivers a bit but then you are quickly uprighted by Soap who holds you by both of your shoulders. “You alright there Condor?”

“I’ll be better once we’re out of here.”

“We need a vehicle,” Ghost shouts, “cover me.” You and Soap follow the man as he weaves throughout the trashed square. The Shadows know that you’re all here and it won’t be long until they move in on your position.

Finally Soap notices an abandoned pick up truck with the lights still on. Making your way to it you try your best to take out as many Shadows as you can with your pistol, aim slightly off but well enough.

With you once again squished in the middle of the two men, Ghost starts the truck. Before he can hit the gas bullets hail down on the pick-up. Roughly Soap pushes your shoulder down so that you are bent in half staring at your knees. You feel the pick-up reverse and feel as it collides with two solid objects, Shadows you assume.

“Can you drive a little smoother?” You turn to ask Ghost who seems hell bent on hitting every object in his path. The only response you earn is a grunt.

The sun begins to break the darkness and the rain has finally stopped as you pull up to an abandoned barn. “What is this place?” Soap asks.

You shrug your shoulders as Ghost replies, “Alejandro’s safe house. He gave me the location just after Condor told us about Graves.”

This halts you to a complete stop, “Wait does that mean I have to take back my I told you so?”

Soap chuckles out, “Oh no, I think that was well deserved.”

Moving to the window Soap enters first but you quickly tell him not to move as a familiar red laser of a rifle scope trains his way onto his back. Ghost quickly follows by throwing a knife to where the glow originated from.

“Who’s there?” the voice of Rudy fills the air.

“Rudy!” You exclaim. “You’re alive.”

“My surprise goes to you as well, it’s good to see you again.”

“Same to you.” You respond.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run.” Ghost says.

“Well Condor and I were on the run, Ghost waited for us.” Soap interjects.

“Of course, no?” Rudy says. You detect an edge in his voice although you can’t exactly tell why.

“No.” Soap says, you whip your eyes in his direction and tilt your head, surprised by his answers.

However it’s Ghost’s response which shocks you more, “Yes, all of us are a team. This happened on my watch. And I need your help to fix it.”

“No one fights alone,” You tell Ghost.

You fill in Rudy to the best of your ability, some questions still remain unanswered. The main one- why Graves turned.

“As of right now, General Shepherd, Laswell, along with anyone else outside this room is considered a hostile, with the exception of Alejandro.” Ghost declares.

“Laswell?” You question.

“We don’t know her connection with Shepherd, she sent you here without telling him, something is up.”

“I really hope you aren’t saying you’re considering me a hostile Ghost.” You say putting more distance between you and the man.

Soap, sensing your tension butts in, “I think what Ghost is trying to say is that we have no contact with Laswell, therefore we have to err on the side of caution and assume that whoever isn’t here is a threat.” Sighing you raise your hands in the air, surrendering to the idea that at the end of all this your list will be a few names shorter.

The focus shifts from Laswell onto getting Alejandro back. Rudy leads the three of you over to a table that contains a map of the black site prison where Graves is holding Alejandro and his men. The four of you come up with a plan, that for the most part goes over well with you up until it is suggested you stay back at the safehouse.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you say looking at the three men, “you want to leave me here?”

“Listen Condor. I mean this in the nicest way possible, you look like shit,” Soap says. You roll your eyes as he continues. “We’ll come back for ya, we’re a team remember?”

“You also can’t shoot for shit,” Ghost adds, causing you to look at the man. “I saw you trying to take out those Shadows before we got to the pick-up, you missed quite a bit.”

Your guts tells you to fight this, to not let them leave you alone in the middle of nowhere with no way out. “Fine,” you gruff out. “But if any of you leave me I will find you and I will put a bullet between your eyes,” you point at each man individually.

As the three of them leave you make your way to where Rudy was when you first entered the safe house. Being high up brings a wave of familiarity and it is warmly welcomed. You replay the past couple of days in your head, going back to when Laswell first told you about this mission. You should have argued more with her and Price, this had taken so much out of you. But at the same time you can’t find yourself to be mad, this is the first time in a long time that you have felt comfortable in the company of people who weren’t Price and Gaz. Figuring that the rescue could take awhile, you position yourself to be as comfortable as you can and shut your eyes.

The sound of multiple trucks is what awakes you. Panicking you quickly adjust the borrowed rifle not willing to go down without a fight.

“Tweety-bird where ya at?” You hear the unmistakable voice of Price. You pop up from above the rafters and Price is already looking right at you. “Not surprising, come on down.”

“Tweety-bird, how did I not think of that sooner,” Soap exclaims.

“Don’t get any ideas there Soap, I’ll break your fingers,” you point at him. Your response causes Soap to rub his fingers.

“She’s all bark no bite, don’t worry about it Sergeant.” Price reassures Soap with a pat on the back.

You make your way down to where Price stands accompanied by the rest of the 141 and Los Vaqueros stand. “Good to see you Captain, you as well Gaz,” you give a small smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Came as soon as Laswell told us Shepherd went dark.”

“Laswell’s still solid, good.” You nod, relieved.

“Now when I heard that you stayed back, alone, I thought to myself. Who is this and what have they done to Condor?”

“Well Captain let’s just say I added a few.”

“I see, well it’s good to see you in one piece, could’ve used your skills out there.”

“Let’s just say my brain is a little like scrambled eggs at the moment.” Pausing you continue, “What happened? Why did Shepherd burn us?” You ask, desperate for the truth.

“It’s a long story,” Price begins pinching the bridge of his nose, “A couple months ago Laswell uncovered information regarding a black bag operation. Shepherd and his Shadows were completing a transaction with allied forces in the Middle East to fend off the Russians. They were ambushed by the Russians, they executed the entire squad and got a hold of the comms. The Russians found out that Shepherd was behind it, so they gave the missiles to Hassan. The entire shipment was an illegal transaction, Shepherd didn’t have any bad intentions but everything was off the books.” You nod following along. Price continues, “He and Graves covered it up, so when Kate learned that Hassan was out here she sent Gaz and I out for a recon where we learned that he was moving the missiles to Mexico. She sent you knowing that you really didn’t care for Shepherd and more importantly you didn’t trust Graves. She kept this a secret from Shepherd until Graves informed him that she had sent you. We all got too close and Shepherd decided he couldn’t let that happen.”

“Now what?” You ask looking at Price, “Only two of the missiles have been found, we’re still missing the third.”

“We take back my base,” Alejandro interjects, “we see if Valeria is still alive and if she knows the position of the third missile. If not, we can at least get Graves.”

“I’m going to be the one to put a bullet in that motherfuckers head.” You point out. “Especially after he admitted to leaving me for dead.” This catches Price’s attention.

“That bastard admitted it?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the P.

“It’s settled then, but first lets see if we can get a meeting with the big dog himself.”

It takes a while, but Prince finally sets up a laptop with a stable enough connection to patch him through to Shepherd. “You hid this, but why?” He asks the General.

“We all keep secrets Captain.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You can consider yourself informed now, John.”

“Well consider it a day late and a missile short,” Price snaps.

“Then find it and fix it.”

“Yeah and who the hell fixes you?” You pipe up while walking around to stand behind Price, you lean over his shoulder coming face to face with Shepherd.

“Watch your tone soldier. I am a patriot protecting my country. I don’t need fixing.”

“The only thing you’re protecting is your own ass.” You say in a matter of fact tone.

“No one holds me down with a roll of red tape, it looks like you’ve forgotten what you’re fighting for.”

“I’m going to find that lap dog of yours General and put him down like the rabid dog he is.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a fucking promise,” you say walking out of frame.

“I got my own promise to make as well General, after she finishes him off, I’m coming for you.” Price says then slams the computer shut.

“Alright,” Alejandro claps his hands together, breaking the silence, “time for a team meeting.”

You all follow Alejandro into the garage of the safehouse where he calls the attention of all his men. You all crowd the table that has a map of the base. “All right everyone listen up, we’re getting your HQ back,” Price begins, “We are getting your prisoner and killing Commander Graves.” This brings a slight smile to your face. “We are not 141, Los Vaqueros, and Condor on this, we’re a team,” Price pauses as Ghost picks up his duffle bag and spills the contents.

You stare down at the skull masks that litter the table, eyes shifting back up to meet the eyes of Ghost. Without breaking eye contact, Ghost pulls his mask over his head and tosses it onto the table. “Ghost Team,” Price finishes off. However you are too busy paying attention to the man behind the mask to fully register Price. Ghost stares back at you and you receive his silent message, trust. Ghost showing his face was the same as you spilling your guts to him and Soap. Blinking yourself out of your trance, you nod your head at him in a silent thank you.

“Good to see you again Simon.” Price says breaking the silence. This causes Ghost to finally break your unspoken staring contest and look at Price as he continues with his speech, “If you’re in, take a mask. If not, don’t.” Reaching for a mask, you take the closest one to you and slip it over your head. As you adjust it so it fits comfortably you look around seeing who else has decided to don a mask. You catch one last glance of Ghosts’ uncovered face before it is once more covered. Though this mask covers less than his other one, it’s a shame he wears one at all.

Alejandro reviews the intel, he and his men know their facility better than anyone. He splits you up into two separate ghost teams. Price, Gaz, Alejandro and a pilot are ghost-one, their mission- use the tunnels that run under the base to sneak onto the tarmac and commandeer a helo and secure Valeria. Your team, ghost -two which consist of Ghost, Soap, Rudy, yourself, and Los Vaqueros are to stand by until Price and the pilot fire upon the entry gate. You are then tasked to locate Graves and neutralize him.

You and the rest of ghost-two are inbound to the gate, Rudy informs you that Graves is most likely held up in the HQ and that it is best to split up. “With Price’s air support the Shadows will be on the run, we use that to find Graves and kill him,” Ghost states, he moves his stare from Rudy to you, “if the opportunity presents itself get Condor to take the shot.”

“Understood Lieutenant. All Ghosts stand by.”

Soap takes the designator and starts to mark the targets for Price, the van you occupy slows to a stop at the gate. Still not at 100%, Soap takes charge of using the spotter scope only to inform you that he sees multiple Shadows moving in.

Price moves in and takes out the entire front gate while Soap polishes off the few straggling Shadows, your driver quickly takes off into the now opened gates and comes to a stop at the entrance. The four of you rush out of the van and make contact with the Shadows. Building through building you move while Soap marks targets for Price to hit.

With the help of Price and the helo you all make quick work of the Shadows on the outskirts of the base. While you aren’t at your best, you still make decent work of the Shadows, this time you have a team to pick up your slack.

After a while you eventually make it to the locked doors of the HQ. Knowing Graves he wasn’t the type of man to leave the front doors wide open so you could storm in. You dig around in your pack for your little surprise, “Breacher Charges,” you say with a grin although no one can see it. You hook them up to the door and hand Rudy the denotator. “Figured it’s your base, you should be the one to do the honors.”

“Clear to engage all threats. If you see Graves, drop him.” Ghost says looking at Soap.

“With pleasure Lieutenant.” You say as you take your position besides Rudy. Shifting your body, you hear Rudy countdown and feel the heat of the explosion. Waiting a second for the dust to settle you all move in. You catch movement on the second floor, “Eyes on Graves, he’s on the move.” You tell your team before shouting out, “I’m coming for you Graves!”

Rushing up the flight of stairs you order for Soap and Rudy to cover you, you take out the Shadows that have barricaded themselves in a conference room. When their fire becomes too much you plaster yourself against a pillar.

Rudy shouts over the gunfire, “Graves. He’s getting away.”

“He won’t get far,” you say reloading your rifle, “He’ll dig in somewhere.”

Over your ear piece you hear Price, “All units be advised Graves went over the wall.” You look out the window of the control room that you have entered only a moment before to see the wall in question. However, you can only focus on the helo that Price was in as it gets hit and spirals out of control. Before you can stop yourself you are yelling over the comms for Price.

Your team rushes out towards the wall and towards where the helo went down. Rudy and Soap already sit upon the wall while you and Ghost stand at the base. “You guys coming?” Soap asks.

You look at Ghost before glancing back up at Soap and Rudy. Unable to make up your mind fast enough, Ghost speaks up, “Go get Graves, I can take care of Price and the pilot myself. Finish this Condor.”

You nod at his response. "Help me up,” waving Ghost closer to the wall. He sets his gun down and interlocks his hands. You step up on his hands as he pushes you up towards Soap and Rudy’s awaiting hands. However, too much force was exerted from each party causing you to fall off the side of the wall and land on the hard, unforgiving ground.

“Condor you alright down there?” Soap asks.

The pain that you have experienced in your head from the past day and a half was nothing to what you were feeling now. Hands fly to both sides as you cradle your head. Moving to your knees, nausea washes through you and you empty whatever was in your stomach into a nearby bush. “Yeah, I’ll survive, definitely didn’t make the concussion any better.” you say waving them off.

“She’s alright Lt.” You hear Soap relay to the man on the other side of the wall. Soap and Rudy are fast to follow you in a more graceful manner. Soap helps you to your feet, but the sudden movement causes the world to spin even more. You hold both your hands out in front of you in order to steady yourself.

“That’s not ours!” Rudy shouts as a tank approaches your position.

Moving out of the way, you aren’t exactly surprised that Graves has managed to find himself a tank to drive around in. Speaking of the devil you hear Graves’ voice throughout the training yard, “Looks like the hunters have become the hunted. Isn’t that a kick in the ass?”

“We’ll need something stronger to take out Graves,” you tell the two men. “This is a training yard right?” Rudy nods at you. “There has to be something around here, look for explosives. We each break off, Graves may be in a tank but he can’t chase all three of us at the same time.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright,” Soap asks, concern lacing his features.

“Don’t worry about me Sergeant, I’ve been through worse, just take out Graves.”

With the three of you each on your own it is harder for Graves and his stupid tank. Moving wall from wall you keep your eyes peeled for any crates that may contain any C-4. “Oh little birdie, where are you?” Graves taunts as you plant a few things of C-4 in his path.

“Now where’s the fun in that Graves?”

“You know you and your friends really messed things up.”

“Well how about you come out of that tank and we have a heart to heart conversation about it?”

“Do you think this is a fucking game? We are in a war and it seems that you simply don’t understand.”

“Graves? Do you know what they say about men who drive tanks?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You haven’t been able to succeed the first two times, what makes you think you’ll succeed on the third?” You know you struck a nerve when you don’t hear a reply. You see Soap on the second floor of some random training building chucking C-4 at the tank. He gets one good shot right in front of the tanks tracks which results in an explosion. You rush to where Soap and Rudy stand, watching the tank with guns raised. The top of the tank opens to reveal a bloody, broken Graves. You motion of the two men to hold their fire.

You walk up to where Graves struggles from out of the tank. Ignoring the burning metal you pull the man to the ground as you unholster your pistol. “I told you I was going to kill you,” you say, staring at the man, “I want to be the last thing you see before you die.” You rip the skull mask of your head and continue, “You’re a failure Graves, and I am the living proof. I’ll see you in hell you bitch.” You push the head of your pistol into his forehead and pull the trigger, ending his life.

“You did it,” Soap says as a matter of fact.

“No we did it, as a team,” you say with a weak smile.

“I can’t believe we brought guns to a tank fight,” Rudy says with a chuckle.

Soap radios in to Ghost informing him that Graves has been killed in action.

“What about Price?” You ask.

“He’s alright, lost a good cigar in the crash.” Ghost informs you.

“Tell him I’ll buy him a new one.”

During your short conversation, Rudy speaks with Alejandro informing him of your success and that you are on your way to him and Gaz.

Valeria looks surprised to see you all alive but is quick to begin a spat with Alejandro. The two of them bicker back and forth before Price cuts in, “You knew there were 3 missiles, where is the third one and where is Hassan?”

“I didn’t count them, I have people for that,” Valeria states as it is the most obvious thing in the room.

“Where is the missile and Hassan?” Ghost demands, looking back over towards the man you see that he is back to his regular skull mask.

“Chicago. I said I’d tell you where he and his missiles were, not that I’d stop him.”

“See, I told you that this would happen.” Alejandro tells you.

“I have a business to run gentlemen, I must grow or I will die. Now get the fuck out of Las Almas and don’t ever come back.”

Price looks at Alejandro before saying, “She’s all yours for now,” his eyes move back down to where Valeria sits, “but hear me when I say we’ll be back.”

You and Price are last to leave the room as he calls for Soap to prep a transport and to get Laswell. “We’ll get you medical on the way to Chicago.”

“What?” you say.

“Geez kid, how many times did you hit your head? I said we’re going to get you medical on the way to Chicago.”

“No I heard you sir, but why am I going to Chicago?”

“To help take down Hassan and that missile, why else? Come on, lets get a move on.”

Alejandro thanks you personally and you tell him he’s made a very exclusive list which leaves him confused; you only offer a wave and a smile before you load onto the transport. You are then ushered to a seat where a medic checks you over as you wait for the rest of the 141 to board. The medic flushes and disinfects the gash on the back of your head, stitching it up before going through basic concussion procedure and deems you unfit for combat.

“What do you mean she isn’t fit?” Price argues with the medic.

“Price I have been bashed in the head two separate times in the past 36 hours, I think that’s enough to warrant caution.”

“Well do you feel fit for combat?”

“Price, I can barely hit a headshot at the moment.”

“You said barely, not that you couldn’t. I won’t force you but if you think that you could be any help in Chicago please don’t bail.”

“Let’s see if Laswell agrees and if she gives the okay then I’ll do it.”

Soap finally gets a connection to Laswell and you all inform her of what the past few days have entailed. In response, she fills you in on what Hassan has been up to, that the missile along with Hassan and his men have been smuggled through a port on Lake Michigan. While no one knows the location of the missile or what its target is, Laswell knows that Hassan was taken to a building in downtown Chicago that is owned by a shell company of the Las Almas cartel. Laswell has the local police blocking off the streets surrounding the building. All the local police know is they are looking for a stolen shipping container, not a missile.

“We believe Hassan is held up in a server room on the 54th floor, I will be on the ground working to locate the missile. Before I give you your assignments I was told that Condor hasn’t been cleared for combat.”

“Yes ma’am that’s correct.”

“I shouldn’t even be considering this but if you feel you are able to aid on this mission I will give you the green light.”

“I’ll be alright Laswell.”

“Look at you being a team player, it’s settled then. Ghost and Condor will be armed overwatch and will be stationed across from the objective. Gaz will infiltrate with the Marines via the Chicago river. Price and Soap will take one helo and touch down on the target building, another helo doing the same with a troop of Marines. I will be working with the police on the main level. Gaz and the Marines will push up the building while Price, Soap, and the Marines work their way down. Soap will be repelling to the server floor, hopefully pinching Hassan right in the middle. Main objective is to find and disarm the missile, however you have execute authority to kill Hassan, any questions?” No one dares to move, “Alright then, you have your assignments. Lets wrap this up.”

The helo rider to the building was silent, but you didn’t expect anything else from the man sitting next to you. Instead you take in the Chicago skyline admiring its beauty.

The helo finally drops you and Ghost off at your building across from the target. Prices’ voice fills your ear, “Ghost, Condor. We’re all set. Are you in position.”

“Affirmative,” you respond, “we are eyes on, Ghost is flashing now, I repeat Ghost is flashing now.” You say as Ghost pulls out his light and flashes to Price and Soap.

“Copy visual,” you hear Soap say, “Lt., what you got?”

“Civilians.”

“Hostages,” you correct him, “Hassan’s buying time.”

“Reposition if you need Johnny, two x-rays below,” Ghost starts as Soap begins his descent, “you are clear to engage.”

You watch through your scope as Soap climbs down the building, you and Ghost instructing him on which floors he needs to be careful of and where there are hostages. Soap drops target after target and makes it safely to the server floor. Soap and Price breach the server room when Laswell informs them that the missile has been activated.

Losing visual on both Price and Soap, there is nothing else you can do other than scope out the remaining floors and wait. With no active updates from any of the teams you mutter to yourself, “A lot of people are going to owe me a lot of drinks when this is over.”

“Say that again, Condor?” Shit, with how silent this man is you forgot for just a second he was here.

“I said that a lot of people are going to owe me a lot of drinks. Gaz, Price, and Laswell specifically.”

“You didn’t have to come, you could’ve used your concussion as an out.”

“Do I look like someone who would take an out?” You ask but you don’t wait for his reply. “No, I follow through on everything I do. I didn’t want to go to Mexico but here I am sitting on a rooftop in Chicago with your spooky ass.”

Your concussion might be worse than you thought because you swear you hear Ghost chuckle, “Did you just laugh, Lieutenant?”

Instead of answering you, Ghost asks his own question, “How many drinks do I owe you?”

“One,” you answer in a heartbeat.

“Just one?”

“Yeah, you did try to choke me out at that eatery in Las Almas so I figured you kind of owe me one.”

“Oh,” Ghost says quietly.

“However, I recommend you use it wisely. I am a lightweight and I have a feeling Price, Gaz, and Laswell will buy me all three at once so they can get rid of me faster. And I have been told one drink me is far more entertaining than three drink me.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, how about Soap?”

“That man owes me at least two, maybe three after tonight, and I’ll be sending my bill to Alejandro and Rudy because those two combined owe me at least six.”

“You were right,” Ghost speaks out into the open air.

“About what?”

“About us not being so different.”

You don’t respond to it and you feel as if you don’t need to. You spoke your history, your identity as an olive branch to the two men who you were on the run with, and in exchange Ghost showed you a part of himself that, judging by Price’s reaction, many people don’t get to see. They always say eyes are the windows to the soul, and when looking into the eyes of Ghost you can briefly see a man who has experienced the same things you have.

Before you can get lost in deeper thought, Gaz breaks through the comms saying that Price has been W.I.A, but Soap has made contact with Hassan who happens to hold the missile’s control pad.

“Missile has been destroyed,” you sigh in relief at Lasswell's voice, “but we’ve lost contact with Soap. We can only assume that he has been captured by Hassan. Watch those windows you two and take Hassan out.”

Rubbing your eyes, you try to clear your vision as best as you can. So far there is no movement and no sign of Soap through the windows. Seconds pass and from the corner of your eye, you see the back of a man who appears to be dragging an unconscious Soap behind him.

Whistling you get Ghost’s attention, you quickly motion to the 52nd floor where Hassan and Soap reside. Soap briefly comms in asking the two of you to watch the window. Ghost moves to next to your position and lines up his rifle.

You watch as Hassan uses a charge to blow the window out and picks Soap up by his tactical vest. Hassan drags Soap towards the window but before he has the chance to move any closer you pull the trigger.

Hassan’s skull explodes and his body drops to the floor, Soap falling to his knees next to him. You radio in, “You alright there Sergeant?”

“I think I owe you a drink Lt.”

“Not me, you owe Condor one, or as she tells me three.”

“You let the sniper with a concussion take the shot?”

“Hey that sniper just saved your life, and besides that was the clearest shot I’ve had during this entire fiasco.”

“Let’s go home.”

“You could say that again.”

The official report was that it was a power surge and some “severe wind” bullshit that caused all those explosions downtown. How people believed this, you haven’t the slightest clue. And frankly you didn’t care if they believed it or not.

You sit with Laswell and Price in some random downtown bar watching the news coverage unfold with their respective owed drinks in front of you, “I will say that is some creative writing.”

“It’s all CIA shit,” Price mutters.

“I just can’t wrap my head around all of it,” you say.

“Well, that’s probably the concussions.”

“You know you should be nicer to me, especially since you want me to join that task force of yours.”

“You’d be a great asset Y/n,” Laswell joins in.

“Remember, I work alone.”

“What just happened proves otherwise.”

“Just because I happen to trust them doesn’t mean I’m ready to be on a task force again,” you down your second drink and turn to look at Price, “John Price don’t you dare give me puppy eyes because I will punch you. Besides, you didn’t let me finish. While I won’t join your task force, I will offer my service when you need it. This does not mean for every mission. I get the final say in whether I go or not. You are not allowed to pull me out of any current mission or recon. These are my terms.”

Price and Laswell just stare at you as if you have grown another head. Price is quick to regain himself as he sticks out his hand, “It seems we have a deal.”

“It seems we do.” You smile, shaking his hand.

“Well in that case, are you ready to hear our next mission?”

“Lay it on me Captain.”

two can be as bad as one- coming soon

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley imagine #cod:mw #ghost x reader #ghost x fem!reader #one is the loneliest number

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nocturnalghoul · 1 year

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Coax you Overboard

Last part of that trio of ideas I had earlier this week, some Raindrop thoughts. Included in the trio is the Dewther installment and the Rulti one.

Words: 771

Summary: A midnight swim for Rain and Dew and some contemplation about how lucky they feel to have the privilege of each other's company

Rain knows how powerful it is that he has the privilege of being the sole person who Dew will go swimming with alone. Sure the fire ghoul will join in when it's the whole pack going, but Rain is the only one to ever successfully coax him into the middle of the lake for a late night swim. He never takes advantage of this though, even if he wants to. Rain would love nothing more than to spend every night out on the water with Dew. There is no use fantasizing about being able to persuade him to come out here more often though. Every second spent out in those calming waters with him is the greatest feeling in the world. The rarity of the occasion only makes it feel even more special.

Most of their midnight swims go the same way, but each time excites Rain and fills him with as much warmth and love as the first. Rain slowly charms Dew into the water with him and gets to watch as he slowly relaxes and perks up as he regains his aquatic confidence. He wishes he could claim that pulling Dew out here was entirely for selfless reasons, a way to get him comfortable with the water he clearly so sorely misses, but he knows it isn’t true. Watching Dew’s movements slowly gain cohesion and fluidity the longer they are out there as he lets his apprehension wash away is a process Rain is certain he will never tire of. There is a graceful serenity that slowly overtakes Dew’s movements that Rain only manages to find out here when it's just the two of them in the water.

To be fair, even out of the water Rain is completely enamored with Dew. He is beyond smitten with the fire ghoul’s loud bursts of passion, the counterbalancing acts of silent compassion he shows, the rare glimpses of vulnerability he is privy to as he lays himself open emotionally. Sure Dew is a pretty face, but the most beautiful thing about him is the little facets of his personality that only the pack gets to see. Rain honestly feels like the luckiest ghoul between both topside and hell for getting to love the fire ghoul and be loved in return. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

~~~

Moments like these Dew is certain he doesn’t deserve Rain. The soft glow of the moonlight accentuates the loving adoring looks that overtake the water ghoul’s face as they paddle around the lake, leaving Dew feeling like he can’t breathe. There are constantly so many people vying for the water ghoul’s attention, and yet Rain chooses to spend time with a ne’re-do-well like himself. The way that he is allowed to monopolize so much of Rain’s time makes him feel selfish. He watches the intense joy overtake the water ghoul’s face as he patiently waits for Dew to relax into the events of the night. He would feel bad about the fact that Rain has to wait at all, but knows that pushing himself too quickly would also make Rain upset.

Dew is constantly surprised by the ways that Rain’s love and devotion strengthens him. Each year when the summer starts to make itself known Dew cannot help but retract a little from the pack, letting himself get pulled away from them as he fears the upcoming days on the lake. Rain always manages to pull him out of this and encourage him out into the water, just the two of them. Dew would do almost anything to chase the brightness that Rain fills his life with, and yet the water ghoul never pushes. He only offers a secure hand and a warm smile.

Rain is worth pushing past the anxiety and fear. There is naturally something about the ghoul that washes all of those negative emotions away. Rain’s natural radiance outshines the darkest corners of Dew’s mind, leaving behind adoration in its place. As Dew feels his own muscles loosen as he gains confidence in the water, he is struck by the graceful movements of the water ghoul. If it was up to Dew, he would do nothing but watch the way Rain’s muscles shift and move as he maneuvers through the water, dragging Dew along with him.

As much as both ghoul’s secretly love these little late night dips more than they let on, the time inside the lake is truly never the best part. The actual highlight of the night is later, once they are both exhausted, wrapped in each other's arms so tight it seems like neither will ever let go.

#There is a chance I come back to this one later and change some stuff but oh well #tempted to rewrite the entire thing but that might be the ‘it’s currently 4am’ talking #the band ghost #nocturnal writings #the band ghost fanfic #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain x dewdrop

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 2 years

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Gentile. | Chapter 14

Joanna finds out about your affair. Something special arrives for you.

Chapter list

Over seven weeks, nearly two months, go by without any news from Capernaum - not from Quintus, nor from Atticus. The first of the two you had expected it from, but the fact that you haven’t received a message from your secret lover in such a long time stings.

The days start to grow dull despite your blooming friendship with Joanna. Every other day, you spend time with her in either the gardens or one of your rooms. You sometimes catch her reading parts from your journal when she thinks you aren’t looking and are both flattered and troubled by it, for the danger remains that she will realise that the confessions of love are not directed towards the man you’ve married.

One day, when Joanna invites you to go to the bathhouse with her, you agree under the condition that you can wear a sleeveless robe, which she understands. You’re not used to people seeing you fully naked and don’t intend on changing that any time soon.

You stand in front of the mirror, tugging and pulling at the opaque yet thin drape you’ve pulled around your body in order to hide all the bits of skin you’d be uncomfortable with showing. With a few pins here and there, you hold it into place and tuck your hair up into a neat braid, fixing it to the back of your head to prevent it from becoming too wet.

Whilst smoothing your hands down your body for a final check, you suddenly flinch at an uncomfortable jolt shunting through your chest. You grit your teeth and frown deeply, bringing your hands back up to poke and feel around a bit. For some reason, the area is extremely sensitive in a negative way and worry settles in your gut.

Perhaps that you’re lacking certain important nutrients now that you’ve been eating very different things than you’re accustomed to, or that your body cannot quite handle it properly. Whatever it might be, you aren’t exactly knowledgeable when it comes to dietary needs, so you shake it off in the hopes the soreness will decrease soon.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. “Coming!” you call out to Joanna, who is waiting for you patiently. You slip your feet into your sandals and head over to her with an extra stole wrapped around your shoulders, meeting her in the hallway.

“Ready to go?” You nod and smile.

“Yes,” you tell her, “I must say that I haven’t ever gone to a bathhouse before.”

“Not even back in Rome?” You’ve told her about your life before Capernaum. You give a small shake of your head and smile.

“It just makes me a little uncomfortable to go there by myself, I suppose. With a friend, it might be different.”

“You’ve got a sister-in-law, no? Perhaps she would like to go.”

Shrugging, you follow her downstairs. “I’m not sure. She is very busy with my niece.”

The air is humid in this part of the palace and you find yourself short of breath immediately. You squint through the slight fog that hangs around and take a towel from the outstretched arms of a servant.

Joanna starts to undress as do you, putting your belongings on the side of the pool. She has no trouble letting herself sink into the water, but you dip in an apprehensive toe to get acclimated to the temperature.

The material of your garb flows around you when you step down the small flight of stairs, the hot water almost scorching off your skin. Joanna smiles at you, cheeks already flushed from the heat, and puts her arms on the side of the pool to support herself and float a little. You swim over next to her and sigh deeply, for the sensation is indeed relaxing.

“When you get back to Capernaum,” Joanna muses, “You definitely should convince your husband to get you one of these. They come in smaller sizes and seeing that he’s sent you here , I’m certain that he won’t be shy about the cost.

A bitter comment crawls up your throat about how you don’t care about Quintus’ money, but she means well, so you swallow it. “Perhaps,” you instead breathe, exhaling and resting the back of your head against the side of the pool. You close your eyes and enjoy the momentary weightlessness. “I must admit that this is very nice.”

She smiles and looks at you. “We could get a massage or pop into the steam room for a bit. It will do wonders for your skin.”

You hum, which is no true answer to her proposal, and allow your mind to wander to Atticus. For all you knew, he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Immediate guilt tugged at your heart for letting yourself unwind at all in these uncertain times, despite the Cohortes’ insistence that you’d enjoy your stay here.

A servant asks if she needs to wash you, but you refuse. Someone whistles her over from the other bathhouse area, where you know the men’s section to be. Your stomach twists at the idea of her having to serve one of those creepy, leering soldiers with whatever whims they might need satisfied. Something flickers within the young woman’s eyes that you can only define as fear. Reluctantly, she moves to the door.

“Wait!” comes from your lips before you realise it, causing her to stop and look at you expectantly. “I-I don’t need a wash, but… A back massage would be nice.”

Joanna, looking at you somewhat confused, agrees with your statement. “Yes, you could help us out with that.” Her voice is inquisitive, as if she’s interested to know why you have suddenly changed your mind.

“Of course, ma’am,” the servant says, her eyes softening as she dares to relax more. The man who called her over to the other area sighs and saunters away in search of another victim. You hoist yourself out of the bath and wait for Joanna to do the same. “Follow me,” the servant says.

You go after her towards a smaller room where a few massage tables stand, a patron’s shoulders currently being kneaded with a strong-smelling oil.

“Please, get comfortable. I will fetch someone else to serve you, my lady,” she tells Joanna. She disappears, your friend immediately turning to you.

“That was… Interesting. Why did you change your mind?”

You sigh and sit down on the table, your Palla clinging to your skin. “I saw fear in her eyes,” you whisper, careful to not let the other two people in the room hear, “I felt bad to send her in there.”

She takes the other surface and gets comfortable, thinking over your words. “I… Suppose you’re right.”

“You said the other day that us women should speak up more for ourselves. How come we don’t speak up for the women who don’t have a voice?”

Joanna’s gaze darkens. “Be very careful with your words right now (Y/n). Saying things like that in a place like these can be very dangerous. I am not saying that I disagree with you, but please keep things like that to yourself whenever we’re in public, okay?”

You nod, understanding her concern, and lay down. The servant returns with at her side another woman who carries a bucket of hot stones. “My lady,” she tells you, “Please undress and lay down on your stomach.”

Despite your hesitance, at least there are no men in the room, so you peel off the damp cloth to stand more naked in front of total strangers than you’ve ever been. You attempt to lay down on top of the table so that the servant can start her work, but you wince when you lower your sore chest on the surface. “Oh, sorry,” you huff, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather lay on my back.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

Joanna frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you truthfully say, “Just a little… Anxious, I suppose.”

She hums. “I get that. Try to relax now, alright? Enjoy the massage.”

“I’ll try,” you tell her, and even though you’re tense when the servant first starts to massage your arms and calves, you slowly ease into it.

Your head is painfully drumming the very moment the massage is over. Joanna deeply sighs, appearing way more tranquil than you.

“That was nice, don’t you think so?”

You take a dry robe the servant hands you and you take it with a soft word of gratitude, pulling it over your shoulders. “It was, but that strong scent around here makes my head ache so bad…”

“Strong scent?” Joanna queries, “It’s just a bit of lavender oil they used on you. Are you sensitive to smells?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffing and flinching a bit, for it stings in your nose, “Perhaps I’m allergic to one of the ingredients, that might be it.”

“If you say you’re alright, then I believe you, but be mindful that you keep your health in mind, (Y/n). Come on, let’s head back upstairs and enjoy some wine, why don’t we?”

You agree, even though you consider skipping on the wine, and head back up to her chamber to unwind and let the heat of the air settle into your skin, which tingles pleasantly. Your cheeks are flushed when you lay down on the same chaise longue you’ve shared drinks and deep conversations on a few times now, and you hum appreciatively when Joanna puts a bowl of fresh grapes in between you.

“I’m going to quickly check for correspondence, alright?” Joanna offers after dressing up again, “You stay here to try and get that headache of yours down.”

You nod and smile at her. “Thank you.”

She heads downstairs, the heavy door falling shut behind her. You put a hand on your clammy forehead, deeply sighing. “I’m not getting ill, am I?” you whisper to yourself, a wave of nausea clawing its way up your throat. You sit up and lay a hand on your heart, which is suddenly burning inside your chest.

You’ve been exposed to a new environment and new foods lately, and you’re worried about Atticus’ wellbeing. No wonder you’re feeling agitated despite your attempts to calm down your nerves.

After swallowing a few times and taking some grapes, you manage to settle down again as the heartburn fades away. There is a moment of silence before Joanna enters through the door again without knocking, the pad of her sandals headed your way.

She tosses a small pile of letters onto her own chaise longue before reaching for you. “This arrived for you,” she says, “It’s pretty heavy.”

You open your eyes and frown at the rectangular, thick package that she hands you. “Thank you.”

“Pardon me for my nosiness, but I saw that the seal is not from your husband.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and panic builds inside your chest. “Oh?” you squeak, “I wonder who it might be from, then. Perhaps my brother.”

Of course, the engraving in the wax is familiar to you. You just hope that he hasn’t enclosed something you cannot explain to Joanna.

You rip off the paper and are met with a blue book, which you flip over in your hands to read what it says. “Romantic poetry.” you whisper, “Let’s see… A bundle of poems by different authors. Is this handmade?” Your voice wavers and Joanna looks at you with widened eyes.

“It seems like it. What’s in there?”

You flip through the pages and read a few names that catch your eye. “Catullus, Ovid, Horace.” They are names you’ve spoken about with Atticus. “There is no note attached to it.”

Joanna hums and sits down, leaning towards you. “You could track down who it is from by asking the courier.”

“I’ll look into it,” you breathe, knowing very well who it came from, hence the lack of a name. However, your eye falls on something lodged betwixt two pages - a small slip of paper, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Is it from your secret lover?”

You nearly choke on your own saliva as you look up at her with wide blown eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

She grins. “Your secret lover.”

You can feel your neck turn red as shame spreads over your skin.

“My secret lover?” you pipe up, barely brave enough to look at her. “I don’t have a–”

“Oh, you cannot fool me, (Y/n). Whenever you speak of your husband, your gaze hardens, but when you saw that wax seal on the book I just gave you, your face spoke volumes of how that is not from him.”

“I-I said it might be from my brother!” you tried to excuse yourself, but Joanna slightly tilted her head with a knowing grin.

“I know a woman in love when I see one. Come on, who is it? Is it the Cohortes who dropped you off here two months ago?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Embarrassment burns behind your eyes and you take a sharp breath, looking at your folded hands that lay inside your lap. “I-I-I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” you whisper, even your own voice not convinced of the lie.

“(Y/n).” Joanna states seriously, sitting down across from you. She reaches over to take your hands in hers and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’ve seen the way you two looked at one another. I didn’t know either of you back then but even I as a total stranger could see that it is no ordinary friendship.”

A hot tear rolls down your cheek and you swallow the lump in your throat to no avail. “Do you-Do you hate me now? I’ve been unfaithful to my husband and have failed both him and the gods. You must reject me as your friend now!”

You bury your face in your hands to sob. “Everything is so miserable,” you wail, your shoulders shaking. Joanna shushes you softly, sitting closer to wrap you in a tight embrace, “Quintus is not a good man. Atticus he-he-he, he treats me well!” you hiccup, “And he holds me in such a high regard I’ve never experienced from a man ever before!”

The words pour out with no chance of stopping them. It’s both a relief to get it off your chest and a looming threat closing in on you - you have no idea what Joanna will say, nor what she will report to the court now that you’re admitting to your adultery, but you cannot stop confessing.

“Whenever I am with him, I feel like I’m alive. He sees me, Joanna! And-And-And I just… I just… Oh, I think I love him. ”

The words that you had never even considered saying out loud leave your tongue before you realise they had crept up on you. You put a hand on your chest and inhale heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“Calm now, (Y/n),” Joanna whispers, rubbing circles over your back gently. “I understand your point of view. A man who sends you a book full of poems he’s bundled himself is obviously someone who is very serious about you. Especially when he’s busy fighting an impending civil war.”

You give her a watery smile and rub your cheeks dry to your best ability, but more keep coming. “I’m– I’m not ashamed, about it all, and that is what makes me feel guilty. Quintus is a horrible husband, Joanna! I never chose to marry him!”

She presses her finger against her lips to have you lower the volume of your voice and she puts a hand on your arm, giving you a determined look.

“I’ve told you my husband isn’t faithful to me.” Joanna begins, “But what I see happening with you is something far more than just a simple affair out of boredom.” Your cheeks flush. “He gives you what Quintus cannot give you.”

“It’s not in my husband’s nature,” you say with a trembling bottom lip, “All I am is a vessel to carry his child.”

Joanna gives a small nod and sighs. “I wish there was a way I could help you.” she whispers, “Sadly, there isn’t anything I can do. However, I want you to know that I am here for you, alright?”

You sniffle and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” you whimper against her shoulder, “Thank you for not telling me I’m a fool for pursuing him.”

“Of course you aren’t a fool, (Y/n),” she earnestly says, “You’re just a woman in love with the right person at the wrong time. All you can do is see where it goes and try to enjoy it while it lasts. As much as it pains me to say it, you’re stuck with Quintus, unless he divorces you.”

You pull away with a deep frown on your face. “Have him divorce me… I’ve never thought about that. I-I mean I cannot do that myself, but if I keep rejecting him, he’ll have no choice but to…”

The words get stuck in your throat whilst your thoughts keep running wild.

“But my family.” you say with a whisper, “I’ll be known as the whore who refused to carry a child for one of the most prominent Praetors known to man. The name of (L/n) would be in shambles, I cannot… I cannot be that selfish. My brother is all I have, I cannot ruin him and his family due to my own stupid decisions.”

Joanna smiles a little and tucks some hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, it is alright to go against the current.”

“Not when it means being egotistical.” you say. “Only when it matters.”

“But you matter.”

You shake your head. “I don’t count. All my life, everything has been settled for me. From the very moment I was born. This should be no different.”

Your friend sighs and looks at you for a long moment of silence.

“You matter.” she repeats, “That is all I can tell you. You can make your own choices.”

But you can’t. You really, truly can’t. Your heart feels heavy inside your chest.

“I’m…” You stand and step away. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Already? But we haven’t even had dinner yet.”

You shake your head slowly. “I’m not hungry. I ah, I need some time to myself. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, you run out of her room, the book you’ve received from Atticus tightly held against your stomach. Once inside your own chambers, you dare to finally take out the paper that had been tucked away between two pages, unfolding it with trembling fingers.

To (Y/n), a collection of works I’ve come across on my travels. I hope you like them as much as I do. Take care and stay safe, my Flower.

It blurs in your vision as new tears form, your upper body feeling tight with heartburn.

You can barely stand the butterflies that tear through your system, your whole form trembling with emotion. You collapse onto your bed and allow your mind to run rampant until exhaustion takes over.

Next chapter Chapter list

#the chosen x reader #the chosen #gentile #reader insert #x reader #angel studios #atticus x you #atticus x reader #the chosen atticus #atticus aemilius pulcher #atticus #quintus #quintus x you #quintus x reader

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eifri · 1 year

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CLIVE & INTERACTION.

something that has stood out to me thus far about clive is how he interacts with others, and how it implies that he may have been developmentally stunted in some way, and / or simply interacts with the world and others around him in a way that might be perceived strangely to your average ( or as average as somebody can be in this world ) person. as a child he did not entirely lack the company and relationships that one would need to develop a basic & healthy understanding of things, but it was by no means a normal upbringing. the scorn he faced for being ' a failure ' in his mother's eyes and the duty he was sworn to uphold from such a young age meant that he was to grow up / learn to fight / take on a great responsibility before he was so much as 16 summers old. the full potential of the bonds he had with others was also notoriously kept at arms' length, and cut short in some way or other, because his duty was paramount over all else.

perhaps more notably, the trauma he endured at phoenix gate; knowing that everyone and everything he held dear had been stripped away, only to be taken by imperials who would then strip from clive his sense of self and his identity, would shape much of what he later becomes. even when he is free of his shackles and in the presence of those he could deem friend or ally, clive can be a bit reserved, apprehensive and sometimes just... a bit strange. ( as though not certain what would be the appropriate way to react in a situation, be it serious or lighthearted ). he often finds himself at a loss for words, or struggling to entirely place his trust in others. his oddities are, however, not always a bad thing. they can be displayed in ways such as his impulsive grasping of gav / his somewhat naive and awkward choice of words in conversation, and subconscious looks of unabashed confusion when approached with sentiments or behaviours he can't quite wrap his head around. although in some ways it does negatively affect the way clive approaches certain situations or how others may perceive him, there are little things he does that could be considered charming or amusing.

' and she's quite a woman, if you know what i mean. ' ' a woman. right. ' ' don't go blinding her with your charm now, lad. '

#❛ HEADCANON ( i burn consumed / and resurrect; half-slain )#ffxvi spoilers //#not big spoilers but. i will tag everything just in case

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mytruthandbeauty · 7 months

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Monday 19 February 2024

I have such a sense of peace of mind since obtaining my four year temporary residency visa here in Mexico that I feel more relaxed now and I actually sleep better. Every day my body feels at peace. Even though I felt good and safe here before this I feel even better now. I used to be a little bit apprehensive around police before, because I was living here under an expired tourist visa and I was concerned that they could take some negative action against me like having me deported, fortunately nothing like that ever happened.

I think coming from the US I had developed this fear mindset, where I was afraid always that the worse would happen, because it does often in the US to so many people and while the worse never happened to me some bad stuff did, so I was always concerned. I’ve since come to realize Mexico takes a very different approach to things, for instance if you are in my previous situation you are not considered an illegal but rather irregular. And I’m just speculating as I’m not involved in policy making of any sort, but they instituted an migration program whereby those who had legally entered the country within a certain period, their tourist visa had expired, they had a physical address here and were living here, were supporting themselves and not breaking any laws then if they paid a fine and could prove the above then they could get temporary residency without leaving the country to apply and without proving a source of income. I think they decided to take this more humane approach to immigrations then so many countries including my country of birth. Also while you are in the country prior to obtaining residency no one is out looking for you and you are not stopped on the street, because you appear to be a foreigner. I realized shortly after coming here that Mexico is a much more civilized country and they seem to believe in treating people with dignity kindness and civility. This has further cemented my love for this country and it’s people.

#transgenderfindsafetyandsecurityoutsideusa #transgendertravelabroad #[email protected]

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honeyleesblog · 2 years

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dreaming of fishes means

An old practice says that fish in dreams is a positive image. The special case is just the fantasy showing a dead fish or a fish that you dropped from your hand, bar or net.

dreaming of fishes means

This last dream proclaims a pained soul, or a failure. On the off chance that anybody fantasies about fishing, this predicts a great occasion. Longing for ocean fish implies winning something and best of luck. Huge fish predicts that individuals will generally blabber about you. Little fish addresses harm or losing something. In the event that a pregnant lady longs for a fish emerging from her the body, she will bring forth a child young lady.

What does longing for fish during pregnancy mean? Many individuals have reached me to inquire as to whether fish in dreams are connected with being pregnant. To dream of fish swimming in the ocean in old fables addresses the knowledge of your oblivious psyche, particularly assuming you saw more than one fish swimming in the sea. To get a fish in your fantasy represents your mindfulness and less significantly shows you are acquiring understanding into your own (or another person's) character. Fish addressed in dreams is very normal dream in pregnant ladies. This fantasy likewise has a prophetic significance. Supposedly, numerous females guarantee that when they long for fish, somebody they know (a companion or relative) winds up pregnant! Thus, this leaves me doubting on the off chance that longing for fish predicts having a child in cognizant existence. The response is, it may. Many dream books (old ones) guarantee that to dream of fish during pregnancy predicts conceiving an offspring of a wonderful child young lady. In the event that you're pregnant and fantasy about seeing dark fish, it addresses the introduction of a solid child kid. In the event that you fantasy about "fishing" when pregnant it connotes a smooth and simple conveyance to a solid child. Assuming you see carps in your fantasy while being pregnant, it can predict that you will bring forth a shrewd, and capable kid, most perhaps a little girl. On the off chance that you get a fish in your fantasy (while being pregnant) in cognizant existence this represents bringing forth a kid who will achieve extraordinary progress throughout everyday life. To dream of fish during pregnancy is generally connected with "positive signs" and holds a positive importance and translation.

What does dreaming about fish that isn't in water represent?

Fish is quite possibly of the most widely recognized image in dreams. It has both positive and negative understanding. Notwithstanding, the majority of the relationship of dreaming fish are positive. Be that as it may, what's the significance here assuming you feel awkward while dreaming about fish? For instance, you see a fish out of the water and it causes you to feel undesirable and you out of nowhere want to assist the fish with setting back in the water up to get by. I realize I had a fantasy once where I felt strain to help the fish. One way or another, such dream anticipates undesirable circumstances and inconveniences showing up in your cognizant existence. This fantasy could anticipate frustration, particularly in the event that you could see sloppy or filthy water alongside the lost and forsaken soul in your fantasy.

What does a dead fish mean in a fantasy? On the off chance that the fish is dead, I'm apprehensive this is a negative sign as per dream legends. A dead fish in dreams represents issues and sickness later on. Seeing a lost soul has a comparable understanding. You might end up in an awkward and surprising circumstance in cognizant existence. Maybe you will feel awkward within the sight of somebody. Your fantasy is presumably proposing that you ought to roll out certain improvements.

What does longing for fish in sloppy water address?

In the event that you see fish swimming in sloppy water in your fantasy, it addresses somewhat of a test throughout everyday life, contingent upon the clearness of the water. I generally believe that the cleaner the water the more certain the fantasy. On the off chance that you saw a fish swimming in clear water, it's a positive sign. Such a fantasy addresses achievement and monetary profits, particularly in the event that you run or lead your own business. Optimistically, you will find the next little while incredibly fortunate. In the event that you work in a standard work, this fantasy can flag getting an advancement that will take your vocation to a higher level.

What does fishing in sloppy water mean in a fantasy? Fishing in sloppy water typically addresses a disease and complex issues showing up in your life. Try not to overreact in light of the fact that, with a decent arrangement, caring more for yourself and changes, you can defeat everything. An unsolvable issue can't exist.

What's the prophetic significance of fish in dreams? As I have referenced previously, to dream of fish in specific conditions predicts pregnancy. As per old dream books it isn't the main thing, to see "fish eggs" in your fantasy predicts a fresh start and the need to communicate potential. On the other hand, to see fish eggs in your fantasy likewise means a mind blowing thought or another way you will take to accomplish components throughout everyday life. Be that as it may, other than this, fish are many times deciphered as an image of self-improvement, development, and ripeness. To see a fish in your fantasy (as I have previously referenced) may address origination. What's more, most ladies long for fish swimming in the water when they're going to get consider a child! This is as indicated by old legends.

Have you at any point utilized the expression "off-putting" about certain "dodgy" circumstances? Dreaming about fish could likewise show an admonition about conceivable risk and some "off-putting" dubious circumstance you ought to stay away from. On the other hand, you may be "fishing" for consideration, acknowledgment, and praises on the off chance that you see a fish in your fantasy.

To eat a fish in your fantasy represents karma, sustenance, otherworldliness, convictions, energy, and "taking care of" your spirit. Assuming that you cook fish in your fantasy, it uncovers your dedicated nature and the plans you've been chipping away at as of late. On the off chance that you observe that your placing your entire being into something, it is normal for a fish to show up in your fantasy. On the off chance that you're clearing out fish (perhaps a fish tank), this fantasy means your disgrace in communicating affections for others. To see the fish getting away from you can imply that you are attempting to turn into a socially dynamic individual yet once in a while you are a secret self observer. On the off chance that you're being gone after by a fish in your fantasy, this can mean you are feeling overpowered by feelings in your cognizant existence. Assuming the fish is huge, you might encounter critical difficulties that will really impact your viewpoint and "assault" your ongoing conviction framework. In the event that you were gone after by a little fish, you will not experience significant changes however little ones. To dream of fish bones uncovers old perspectives, contemplations, and experiences.

What's the significance here to dream of an enormous fish? As I have referenced previously, to be gone after by a hotshot, means going through significant changes that will "assault" your ongoing perspective, your conviction framework and open your eyes for good. In any case, in the event that you just saw a fish in your fantasy, and it didn't hurt you in any capacity, it represents an individual who's going despite your good faith in cognizant existence. It's conceivable that the individual's been discussing you despite your good faith assuming the fish was undermining in any capacity. At the end of the day, such a fantasy addresses meddling. Seeing an enormous fish in your fantasies could likewise imply pressure and social tension, and furthermore certain snags you should defeat soon. As you can see, your fantasy has a muddled understanding. In any case, the ultimate result (in the event that the fantasy is positive) is triumph over foes.

What's the significance here to dream of a dark fish? On occasion, you simply need to attempt various things in life before you find something that satisfies you. What's more there may be a to some degree interminable stock of issues. In the event that you long for a dark fish, it addresses feeling that you need to find something that satisfies you as per more established fables. It can indicate that you could feel restless and pushed of late? On the off chance that you're carrying on with a difficult time throughout everyday life, your fantasy could reflect what you're feeling inside. Presently, to consider yourself to be a dark fish (that is extraordinary and swimming around uninhibitedly demonstrates a new beginning. On the other hand, seeing a dark fish in dreams predicts blustery climate, so in the event that you love blustery turbulent climate, you will be in or a treat! Whitefish, then again, addresses the condition of your ongoing relationship. In the event that you have a significant, unadulterated relationship with your sweetheart the dark fish is positive. What's more, in the event that you're not seeing someone, will most likely meet somebody true and extraordinary. Seeing a green fish represents childishness and addresses your longing to begin once again throughout everyday life.

What does longing for beautiful fish represent? In the event that you long for a vivid fish, it signifies extraordinary wellbeing and the need to really focus on yourself (sad to report!). In the event that you get a bright fish in your fantasy it addresses your open a brain. The fantasy could suggest that you are a go getter who holds a bright. This fantasy infers that you in all actuality do anyway prefer to face challenges since you're mindful that occasionally you need to "risk" more. On the other hand, such a fantasy predicts an extraordinary marriage later on, so be ready! A couple of dream books I have perused show that seeing marine fish could address your imagination and insane thoughts!

What's the significance here to fantasy about eating seared fish? To eat fish for instance from a fish and chip shop in your fantasy state predicts uplifting news coming on your way. Cooking white fish shows that you are in wonderful wellbeing. In any case, to keep extraordinary wellbeing, you should focus harder on your way of life and be more dynamic. This fantasy additionally represents success and karma. Be that as it may, on a more regrettable note, it addresses obstructions, particularly assuming that you stifled on the bones in your fantasy. On the other hand, eating a fish in your fantasy in large numbers of my fantasy books signify monetary profits and a superior monetary circumstance. On the off chance that you watch a fish get ready and cooked, ate in your fantasy, it's a promise of something better. It could anticipate abundance and legacy. To eat or see various kinds of fish in a fantasy, is likewise a promise of something better, meaning your endeavors and difficult work will bring about a positive result.

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purplelupins · 2 years

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Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

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Albert had just finished his coffee, and was pulling on his uniform shirt when he heard Sampson’s bark.

He waited a moment, expecting to hear that sweet voice to tell Sampson to be quiet. For her to open the door and come find him; tell him all about her walk or an idea she had, and touch him like it didn’t turn her on until he had her folded in half begging for him to let her come…but the door never opened. Albert slowly walked to the front door, and looked out the window.

Fire erupted in his veins.

Sampson was there alone, barking and standing on his hind legs. Albert wrenched the door open and he looked around outside as fury filled him. His hands shook.

She was gone.

She had tricked him.

All this time, she wanted to leave.

Without a second thought, Albert pulled Sampson inside, threw the door shut, climbed into his van, and peeled out to speed down the road. He knew where she must have been when she ran, judging by how long it had taken Sampson to get back. He started there at the main road. Before that day, he loved that part of her walk when he went with her- she hated it. It made her feel exposed; like anyone could see her. But she also had a certain love for it because that had been the first time they saw one another. Normally he would have grinned at the memory of having his bunny run into his arms for the first time, but not that morning. That morning he began to wonder if it was all a lie.

He thought about her smiles, giggles, terrible jokes and tears that she had shared with him.

He hated how easily she had lulled him into her comfortable lies. Most of all he hated how he felt hurt by it.

Albert searched everywhere he could, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found, and he knew every place she could have possibly gone. He looked down every road possible, and finally went into town to see if she was stupider than he thought and tried to find safety in numbers. It wasn’t until he passed by the local coffee shop that he heard something that made him slam on his breaks.

He leaned out of his window to the three officers standing by their cruiser and plastered on his best friendly neighbour face. “Morning officers!” He called. They turned to him and gave him a nod. “Sorry to eavesdrop but I thought I heard you say something about a missing girl found, hey?” He asked as casually as possible.

One of them nodded though the others looked apprehensive. It didn’t matter, he only needed one rat to give in.

“Oh yeah. Heard it on the radio- they found her walking some dog like it was a normal day and took her right to the station. Apparently she took a fucking chunk out of one of the officers arms!” They all laughed a little.

He felt something shift inside him.

“She wasn’t running into the officer’s arms to take her home?” Albert asked joining in their laughter, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nope…it’s for her own good though y’know…stupid thing doesn’t know what’s best for her.” An other one added.

Albert’s eye twitched. He didn’t know anything about his sweet girl. They needed to shut up.

“Christ…kids these days eh?” He rasped but he didn’t wait for a response before he took off towards the station.

Albert was sure his steering wheel would snap under the pressure of his grip. He was surprised he wasn’t pulled over for a ticket as his foot put the gas petal down to the floor the entire drive there.

He slammed the van into park outside the building and leapt out, marching up to the doors. He pushed them open, the door slamming with a loud thwack against the wall. The officer at the front reception looked up at him, then the two other officers standing by the desk.

While he knew he should keep his composure as best as possible, Albert could taste the adrenaline on his tongue and feel the anger he had in his skin. He took a long shallow breath as he approached the counter, ignoring the staring officers to the side.

Get to work for once you rats

“Morning. There’s a girl you brought in. Where is she?” He tried to stay calm, but it didn’t work.

The two officers standing exchanged a look. “Who are you?” They asked to the side of him. He sucked in an irritated breath.

“I’m her guardian.” He rasped.

The two men elbowed each other and it was then that Albert noticed the bandage on one of their arms.

One of these men took my y/n.

“Jesus…she took a chunk outta my arm.” The man held his arm up that was now bandage that had a red stain seeping through.

Something began to switch inside him at the first hand admission.

“She really fought back? Why didn’t she just go easily?” Albert found himself asking. He needed to hear what happened from a neutral party before he heard hers. If this had been to deceive him, she still might lie.

“She fucking bolted at first. We had to run to grab her and haul her into the car. She bit me and I’m pretty sure she got a couple jabs at my partner in the other room.” The officer said shaking his head. Albert hung onto every word.

The receptionist broke into the conversation, “We called her father already, he’s comin-“

“No.” Albert snapped, “No, she’s coming with me. Go get her. Ask her for the person she wants to see. She’ll say Albert.”

The receptionist looked at Mathewson and he nodded to tell Allans. He stood and walked to the door that separated the main lobby, then as soon as the door cracked open. Albert heard her.

“I. WASN’T. FUCKING. MISSING!”

He smirked at that. His fingertips buzzed.

That’s my girl…Give them hell.

A moment later, another officer came through the door. Albert thought he had seen him in the area before.

“Who’re you?” The officer asked.

Albert’s eye twitched. “Doesn’t matter who I am, let me see her.” He bit, slamming his fist onto the counter, before sucking in a breath and becoming eerily calm, “Go and ask her who she wants to see. If she says my name, she comes with me. If not, she’s all yours to continue biting officers who can’t defend themselves against little girls.” He said pointedly.

The officer who had just come out looked over at the three others, then back to Albert. “Name?” He asked finally.

“Albert.” He snapped, running an irritated hand through his hair.

The man nodded and slowly went back into the cell room, eyeing Albert wearily. Albert crossed his arms and stared at the door. His adrenaline was at a high and he was ready to explode.

If she didn’t come out those doors, said she didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t care. He would find her. He would watch her until he could corner her and drag her back. She belonged to him, and if she didn’t want him, no one could have her.

A few moments passed, then the door opened and the officer walked out alone. Albert sucked in a breath and was about to turn and leave, but then stopped in his tracks when out came his sweet girl, looking around the room until her eyes found him; he watched her run up to him. She leapt into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, not daring to let go. “They-they took me- I didn’t wanna go they just took me and I-“ she hiccuped and began sobbing into his shoulder.

Albert felt a foreign vibration in his limbs as he held her.

Relief.

He let out a long sigh, and knelt to his knees to cradle her.

“Shhh…I’ve got you bunny.” He cooed for her so gently it might have seemed paternal to most, but underneath brewed a raging fire. Albert pulled away for a moment to look at her and held her cheek in one hand; he inspected her red eyes, her blotchy skin... His eye twitched when he saw the discolouration on her opposite cheek. A bruise. His eyes snapped to Mathewson, “Is that true?” He nodded to the bandage.

The officer scoffed.

“Sure as hell is. That bi-“ he stopped when he saw the look of murder in Albert’s eyes, “…that girl bit my arm. I was fucking bleeding everywhere and she threw up in my partner’s cruiser! Took the both of us to even get her in there too. She started runnin’ away with that dog of hers…if you raised her to be like that you oughta have a firm conversation with her.” His mouth ran out of his control, and it was all Albert needed to hear, though he was barely listening.

“Then why does she have a bruise on her cheek?” He asked, pulling her face from his neck again, and setting her down beside him as they slowly stood up. She was shaking and clinging to him as tightly as she could when she remembered being taken away against her will; but even with her red eyes, she glared at the officers. Albert tilted her head to the side to get a better look. She leaned into his touch and stared up at him as if he was the only other person in the world.

“Hmm?” He hummed, then looked back to the men in uniform, “If you were just upholding the law then why the FUCK is there a goddamn bruise on her cheek?” His outburst made the officers flinch. But she didn’t. She just stared.

“Hey now…it was self defence you know- she bit my partner!” Allans said defensively.

“Oh well that’s fine then.” Albert mocked them. “What’s your name?” He looked over at Allans, suddenly very calm.

The officer in question was rooted to the spot when he stared back into Albert’s eyes. That look he gave him was the same cold and dead stare he had seen from the girl beside him. Murderous.

“O-Officer Peter Allans.” He said finally, shifting uncomfortably.

Albert nodded. “And you?” He turned to Mathewson.

This one saw the look of fear in his partners eyes, and was even more hesitant, and Albert was running out of time. And patience.

“I said what’s your name, coward?” Albert seethed.

The man blinked and stared back into Albert’s blue eyes.

“Gilbert Mathewson…But look, hey, we don’t want any trouble sir. We were just-“

“Doing your job. Right.” Albert nodded, “Well now I’m going to do mine. Let’s go sweetie.” He pulled y/n to his side and she held him like her life depended on it.

To keep up with the charade, she even looked up at him and said, “Okay daddy.” And buried her face into the side of his chest as he took her out. She failed to feel him pause at the title, or see how his pupils dilated. It was so sudden that he almost didn’t process it.

It was like the air was sucked out of his lungs.Something about the sound of that word coming from her sweet mouth made a shiver run up his spine as he led her away.

But he couldn’t think of that now. He needed to hold her.

As soon as they were outside and away from view, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. Tears ran down her face and she held him, moving her lips against his. It was quick, but sent the message they both wanted to.

He let her down, kissed her one more time on the head and pulled her to the van; started it up fast. His brain was already working. “Do you think anyone is at home?” He asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

She blinked and pinched her brows. “…what do you mean?” Her mind was still playing catch-up.

“Your family’s home. Is anyone there? What’s their schedule?” He said.

Her eyes widened, “It’s Thursday…” she checked her new wrist watch, “8 o’clock…no. Mom is taking my sister to school and dad would have been just leaving for work…but he got the call…he’ll probably be down at the station for a while.”

Albert nodded sharply. “Direct me there.”

“Why are we going there?” She asked fearfully.

Albert reached over and took her hand in his.

“We’re getting you whatever you need, sweetie. Anything you’ve missed. Now tell me how to get there.” His voice was as calm as he could make it, but she knew he was still reeling from what those officers did.

Y/n was horrified at the idea of going back there, but she trusted him to keep her safe.

Albert walked down the side street from the van, and through the front yard. Just as she had said, there was a spare key under the doormat, and he let himself in. He felt a rush being in the same place where she had been…he knew that was the same door she threw open that night she chose him.

Albert found himself looking around for a moment. His eyes fell on the stairs, and he made his way up to where she said her room was. She had told him it probably would be renovated by then, but to his surprise it was just a little messy.

He stood there and stared at her bed. She had told him her father used to bend her over there and whip her until his arm was tired. Albert sucked in a breath. He drank in the space where his sweet girl had been tortured.

Then he remembered why he was there. Albert opened her nightstand, and found her small wallet there under some papers, just as she had said. Next he found her rucksack in her closet and went through her drawers, pulling out the certain items she had told him about, plus a fluffy little bear on her bed. He also kept a couple panties for himself.

Then he found a notepad on a shelf, and began writing.

“Your daughter is at 7742 south Irving St. Tell no one. Bring this note.”

He read it over one more time and nodded his head to himself before going to her father’s chair in the living room, and tucking it to the side of the cushion so it would crinkle when he sat.

Albert left the house, taking care to not be spotted by any neighbours, and walked calmly back to the van parked two blocks away.

As soon as he pulled the door open to the van, y/n almost jumped into his lap. “Did it go okay?” She asked, turning to him.

The engine revved and he wore an invigorated smile. “Peachy keen! The place was barely touched.” He said, and pulled away. “Just got in, got your things and got out. Oh I also found this little stuffed bear I thought you might like.” He pointed to the rucksack.

Y/n gasped.

“You didn’t! Really?” She gushed and grabbed the bag and opened it to find the very same stuffed bear that she had left behind. “You’re just a big softie!” She smiled and leaned over to Albert to kiss his cheek. He hummed.

She didn’t need to know about the note.

Not yet.

He helped her into the house and he watched her embrace the dog that was supposed to intimidate her. Albert took her hand and led her into the bedroom where he opened the bag and showed her each item. She smiled and kissed him again. “You’re the best. Thank you.” She whispered. But then, as he went to leave her to sort through her things, she wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.” She whispered.

He turned in her grasp. “Me too, bunny…thought you scampered away from me.” His voice was calm and light, but she knew his meaning was anything but.

“I wouldn’t…I couldn’t!” She pulled away to look at him, desperately trying to remind him that she was his.

And he knew it.

He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I know sweetie…I know. Why don’t I join you in the morning from now on hmm? I miss you anyways.” He purred, stroking her back.

Come on sweetie…come on you know you can’t say no to me.

She nodded quickly. “Yes please.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.

So polite. Such a good girl…I could never let you go.

Albert kissed her one more time, then walked into the other room to the phone to tell the shop he wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t about to leave her alone after what happened. While he did believe her on some level that she wouldnt leave, he needed to make sure she was truthful.

Besides, that evening they would likely have a guest.

Once he hung up, he heard her humming that song again, and he slowly followed the sound. He leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and watched her fold her clothes neatly and stack her books and little items she wanted.

Then he remembered that moment in the police station. His pupils dilated at the thought.

“Bunny?” He said after a minute.

“Yes?” She replied joyfully.

“What was that you called me? At the station.” He asked casually, slowly walking into the room.

She thought for a moment, then remembered; it had just slipped out in the moment. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it now that her fear wasn’t clouding her mind and she wasn’t desperately trying to leave town.

“I…I don’t remember.” She lied, taking some clothes to the closet. He circled her, and sat down on the bed.

“You called me daddy.” He stated, leaning back on the mattress with his back against the headboard.

She froze. She had half hoped he didn’t remember and was actually asking her what she had said, but that was out the window. He could feel her cheeks heat up from there. “Well…I…I was just trying to tell them that you were my guardian. I didn’t want them to doubt you and take me away again.”

“Ahh I see…” he nodded in understanding, “Look at me.” He murmured. And she couldn’t.

He knew she couldn’t.

He sucked in an irritated breath. “Look at Daddy.” At that her eyes snapped to his.

Fuck.

He felt that serge of control he chased everyday fill him up at her compliance.

Seeing her so responsive to his demand made a part of his restraint with her snap clean in two. He sucked in another deep breath that turned into a growl and he calmly patted the bed beside him. “Come here sweetie.” He said gently. Her eyes were wide, and she felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He was never like that. He was always straight to the point.

This was new.

But finally, she started walking. She took the several steps towards his side, and while he wanted to grab her and pull her to him, this was a new game. So he waited, squeezing his fist so tight he thought his nails might break skin. Painfully slowly, she slipped one leg over his thighs, then the other so she hopped to his other side. She sat next to him, and smoothed out her skirt innocently, waiting for his next move.

His nostrils flared as he watched her- such a polite, sweet little thing. “That was quite the slap they gave you today, little one.” He murmured, moving to lean against the headboard on his side so he could see her.

“Slaps…they gave me two…they really hurt…” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

God he loved it when she did that.

“Did they now? I’m sorry, sweetheart…want me to make you feel better?” He whispered, moving a little closer, and placing his hand on her thigh. He would store the two slap information for later.

He wanted to see what she would do. Was she going to give into this new game?

Albert watched her toy with her skirt’s hem, then finally she looked over at him. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Yes please, daddy.” She breathed.

There was barely any colour left in his eyes. The older man sighed through his nose and nodded. His calm exterior was the perfect mask to hide the carnal thirst inside him.

“Why don’t you undress for me, hmm?“ He cooed, brushing some hair from her face.

She nodded eagerly, and quickly rid herself of her clothes. Albert focused on his breathing to not snap, but as she slipped off her panties, a wet line of slick connected her pussy to the fabric. She was soaked.

That was it.

His eye twitched.

“Get the fuck over here.” He rasped.

She stared at him and threw the panties away before clambering onto his strong thighs.

Albert made quick work of unbuckling his belt, and she all but ripped his shirt off.

He irritatedly threw his remaining clothes away and pulled her sweet little body to his, and slipped inside her with a single thrust. He let his eyes shut momentarily and a groan slipped from him as he listened to her adorable whines.

“That feels good doesn’t it, bunny?” He purred in her ear as he held under her butt to rock her up and down his length.

She nodded helplessly.

“Is daddy making the pain go away?” His voice turned rough.

“Y-yes.” Her breath hitched. One of the best sounds she made.

Albert smirked and stretched one of his thumbs to rub against her little clit, and he was rewarded with her grip on his shoulder tightening and a violent clench of her pussy.

He chuckled darkly at the control he had over her body. Even she couldn’t do what he did.

“Are you going to be my good girl and let daddy make you come? Hmm?” He rasped as she started to meet this thrusts.

She whimpered and nodded, “Y-yes please daddy!”

Her mind began to go numb and ecstasy took over. All she could feel was him inside her. Him holding her.

Him.

It was all him.

His cock slipped so easily in and out of her that she would have felt embarrassed if it weren’t for her being completely intoxicated by the man beneath her. His thumb stroking her so perfectly, his hands holding her like a vice. His blue eyes boring into hers. His strong chest heaving as he ruined her for any other living being.

With her mind full of him, she let go. She didn’t have a choice- her body wouldn’t have listened to her even if she had tried.

“Atta Girl…that’s my girl. Fuck…” he growled.

He continued to rub her even after she came, and when she tried to pull his hand away when it became too much for her, he pushed her down onto the bed and buried himself inside her again. Tears welled in her eyes as another orgasm pooled inside her.

“Pl-please daddy...” She gasped.

“What? Is it too much?” He mocked her, “Feels too fucking good? Beg. Scream. You're just gonna cum a few more times for me.”

Y/n stared up at the man above her, and nodded again. “Okay daddy.”

And just as he had told her, she came three more times.

She came five seconds before he filled her up with his cum, and sucked a purple bruise onto her neck.

She came again when he cleaned her up with a washcloth, but was greedy and began tasting her. Sucking and licking her sweetness until she was a whimpering mess.

And she came one last time when her sweet little mewls were too much for him as he was buried between her legs, and he had to be inside her one more time. His cum dripped down her thighs for an hour even after they had showered. They laid in an early afternoon haze of euphoria. They barely even moved for the rest of the day.

The odd neighbour passed by, and looked through the slightly open curtains in the front room as they always did, but they didn’t see that girl they had started to notice inside. They knew Albert, but they didn’t know her. They supposed she was just a maid of some kind. It wasn’t until late that evening that the house looked to have any life in it at all, save for the odd bark from that big black dog he kept.

Around half passed ten that night, a brown and white 1970 Ford F100 truck drove past 7742, and parked up the road. A man with poor posture hopped out, and walked with an uneven gait towards that old brick house. He checked the note he had been told to bring with him, though in his altered state, it was difficult to read at all. He only had one thing on his mind: haul that bitch of a daughter of his back home to remind her of who she was.

What she was.

A worthless piece of trash.

The man stood at the front lawn, and checked the address one more time before harnessing his anger and marching up to the door. He rapped impolitely and crossed his arms as he waited. He could hear an old record by Ritchie Valens playing, and found himself distracted by it until the booming bark of what he guessed to be a massive dog came from right at the door. He heard some scratches too before it stopped and the door swung open.

He was met with a man far taller than himself, and perhaps a little younger, but not much judging by his greying hair.

“Can I help you?” The man asked from the doorway, looking out past the man on his doorstep.

“Uh…yea I got this note, shit-“ he quickly unfolded the paper, tearing it a little in his inebriated state. The other man stared at him in distain.

“You’re Stewart?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Stewart responded. “And you are…?”

“Al. Come in.” Albert said shortly and stood to the side to let the other man in. As the door shut, Stewart took a look around the living room, every hair on his sweaty body standing on end. If hadn’t drank that whiskey he would have noticed how stupid he was.

“She’s been hiding in my basement…my dog fucking found her. Sorry about the note…didn’t know what the hell was going on.” Al ran his hand through his hair and looked down shaking his head.

Stewart nodded and darted his eyes around, “Fucking sounds like her, that little whore. You know I’m pretty sure she fucked every guy in town? Good thing I fixed ‘er…” his words were slurred, and Albert could barely contain himself. He hated alcoholics. He hated them more than he hated himself. But he had a job to do.

“She’s down here, after you.” Albert took him to the door to the basement and opened it up before gesturing for the other man to go first. Stewart nodded and clumsily made his way down the stairs, rolling his shoulders as he readied himself to put that daughter of his into place.

“What is this some kinda bunker from the war?” He asked as they reached the thick door.

Albert laughed lightly. “Something like that. Just push on the door there, I had it locked so she wouldn’t run.” He nodded to the handle.

“Many thanks to you…” Stewart slurred, then paused as he pushed on the heavy door. “Say you look real familiar…”

Albert watched the door past him and sucked in a breath at the sight that Stewart had yet to see.

Beautiful

“I’m told I had that sort of face…” he murmured, and put a hand on the man’s back.

When Stewart finally turned away from Albert and faced the basement, he clenched his hands into fists at the sight of his daughter sitting on an old mattress, still in the same pyjamas as she had run away in.

His nostrils flared and he shook as his veins pumped with anger.

“There you are you bitch-“ Stewart was about to take a step toward her, but was cut short when his hands were taken behind his back, and the crack of metal cuffs echoed in the small space.

He tried to wrench his hands free, but it was too late. “What the fuck-“ he spat.

But the basement door was already being slammed shut, leaving the three of them to exist in their own dim little world under ground.

“Hi dad.”

Stewart whipped back around to where his daughter was sitting, but his pupils constricted when he saw her this time.

She was standing.

In one hand, she held a belt with a buckle that caught the light.

In the other hand was a well used axe- it’s blade a little dull.

But that wasn’t what made Stewart l/n freeze.

It was the demonic mask she wore. Horns protruding from her temples and a deep frown where her mouth should have been. He couldn’t even see her eyes.

But he wouldn’t let them see he was close to pissing in his pants.

He turned back to Albert who was fiddling with something in his hands. “What the fuck is this? Huh-“

Tsk tsk.

He snapped his head back to the young woman, watching him predatorily.

“Such language, Stewie…you know you always raised me to have manners…maybe you should listen to yourself for once?” She said sickly sweet, slowly approaching him.

He scoffed and looked around, barely noticing Albert, “What are you gonna do huh? Try and kill me, scare me? Well it ain’t gonna work-“

A searing pain made him lose his words as he fell to his knees. From behind him, Albert pulled out the knife he had stabbed into one of Stewart’s ankles.

This was his bunny’s game, but he wasn’t going to run the risk of that glutton hurting her.

“What the fuck!” Stewart screamed. The pain coupled with his state of mind made for a poor cocktail of confusion.

She clicked her tongue at him.

“Dad…you should really pay attention.” She was just a foot from him now. “What was it you always told me before you would beat me…? Oh! Or the time you took away my god given right over my body at that hospital? Hmm what was it.” She tapped her chin as she pretended to think, and threw the axe down beside her with a heavy thud.

“What was it?” She whispered, circling him. As she passed behind him, Albert extended his hand to her masked cheek, and stoked it tenderly before he walked to the wall on the side and crouched to watch. He too slipped on a mask- the lower half of the smiling one. He was watching her every move, entranced.

Stewart didn’t answer at first and he received a single lashing from the belt.

“I said, what. Was. It?” She seethed, grabbing a handful of his thinning hair.

He sucked in a breath, “This is for -“

“Bingo!” She released him and clapped, “This is for your own good. Well dad, this is for your own good.” She chimed.

Albert’s breathing became laboured as he watched his sweet bunny fulfil her desires. Her needs. He just wanted to help her, and when he told her about the note, she had accepted, and he had plugged her full with more cum than before. He was helping to set her free from her worst fears.

“Hey now…wha-what are you doing there pumpkin?” He eyed the belt as she raised it again.

She tilted her head to the side.

“Aww we’re using pet names now? That’s cute.” She came behind him and kicked his back so he fell forward. “Well then daddio, what this is…is retribution.” Her sweet voice lost its life, in its place was nothing short of a cold blade cutting into his mind, but to Albert it was music to his ears.

“Y/n honey you don’t have to-“ Stewart began to plead. Gone was the front he had put on. In its place was a scared little pathetic man who had finally peed himself.

“Oh but I do dad I-“ thwack,“ -really-“thwack, “-really-,” thwack, “-do!” She seethed, panting.

Albert watched her like she was the only person in the world.

Y/n could see the blood seeping through the tears in his shirt, but she wanted more. She pressed down hard on a particularly deep gash thanks to the buckle; it was right around where the one on her back that had refused to close forever was.

Snot and tears mixed together on Stewart’s face. “Please…y/n-“

Thwack!

“No. You don’t get to say my name. “ she rounded him and let him try to look up. “I don’t think you understand what it is that’s going to happen. And that’s okay. Just know that this is going to kill you. I could do it quickly…but Dad?” She stooped down so she was a little closer to his wretched face, and pulled the axe towards her, holding it in her hands.

“W-what?” He asked breathlessly.

She sighed, “I want this to really hurt.”

Not a soul heard what happened down in that basement that evening. There was a file opened for the missing man, which was closed as quickly as his daughter’s. What the city of Denver did know was he was not missed. Barely a blip. Barely a whisper.

His wife and daughter moved on. Quite happily too in a new town hours away.

No one questioned the vacant house across from 7742 or how one night there was a man disappearing inside with a bag of trash, and reappeared without it.

A few brows were raised when two officers went missing, but again, things happened and the cases were closed within five months.

A few neighbours were curious about the beautiful young woman who now lived with Albert. They would often see her tending to her beautiful garden that had seemed to sprout over night; she was even cheeky enough to wink at the old ladies who asked what her secret was to get her flowers to grow so vibrantly. She would tell them that it was a secret of hers that would die with her. It was a blessing that the flowers covered the smell.

At first they found her a little odd, especially with how she seemed to just appear, but after she visited almost every house in the block with fresh cookies, they stopped asking.

What the neighborhood knew was that Albert- the strange, quiet man who had lived there his whole life- seemed happy. On more than one occasion, that sweet young woman would run out after Albert as he left for work and she would jump into his arms for one last kiss.

They never went anywhere without each other except for work.

They took strolls through the neighbourhood with that big old dog of theirs, and people would always note the look of adoration in the older man’s eyes as he watched that sweet, sweet girl.

At the grocery store, people would stare and the odd emboldened person would ask them how they were so happy after seeing the gold bands on their fingers.

To which they would smile at one another and Albert would just say shyly, “Oh you know, common interests and communication.” And kiss her temple.

“And trust!” She would chirp and hold his arm.

Most of the families who saw them hated them. They would grumble about how they were probably faking it all. How it was like they were some happy dream.

They hated it.

They hated them.

But oh that couple really was just the sweetest.

The sweetest of dreams.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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