#you better not have been lying about the important shit or i will kill us both and i will succeed in doing so i hope you believe that cuz

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 

John looked so sad. 

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 

The bell at the front door jingles. 

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I��ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 

You want him naked. 

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.” 

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 

“Out!” 

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  

Well, secret’s out. 

[nocturnalrat]

Hear me out…

1610! Miles comforting reader after she get jealous because of how much he’s been around Gwen and he’s just touching and kissing her in all the right places and makes sure that reader knows that he loves her and only her 🙈💕

Thank you for the great prompt! I had lots of fun writing this. :p <3

---

It was truly infuriating.

You hadn’t seen each other in a week due to school work keeping you busy, and there had been a surge of criminal activities in New York, which is why Miles had been occupied most of the time as well.

And now, when the two of you were finally able to hang out again, he kept talking about someone else entirely.

You were lying on the bunk bed in his dorm room, listening to him ramble on about the adventures he had lived through last week.  

“You should have been there, the way Gwen incapacitated the guy was like something out of a movie.” He gesticulated frantically with his hands as he vividly described last night’s care chase.

"That sounds really fascinating," you grumbled.

After hearing your unfazed (and slightly sarcastic) tone, he looked up from his chair. "You don't sound very impressed, though."

How could you have told him that his constant stories and songs of praise about Gwen were starting to annoy the heck out of you?

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. To confess to it was shameful, exposing; you wanted to be the easy-going, cool and confident kind of girlfriend, but Miles was making it really hard for you to not seethe with anger and discontent.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze. Lying was easier when you didn’t look him into his eyes. They always were too honest and seemed to notice too much.

"Sure," you said.

He saw through your charade immediately, and climbed onto the bunk bed to be closer to you.  "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"You can't tell shit," you said before you could stop yourself. There was anger in the pits of your stomach threatening to take over.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then why are you frowning like that? It looks like you’re ready to kill someone. It better not be me."

Fuck. Were you really scowling that obviously?

"You and Gwen get along great, huh?”

"We certainly do." He tilted his head. You recognized that look on his face – it was the same one he had when struggling to solve complicated math problems. "Why’d you bring her up?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?" you snarled. "We weren’t able to have a single conversation in the last few weeks without you mentioning her a dozen times. Not to mention the fact that you spend way more time with her than you do with your actual girlfriend.”

Shoot. Now you had done it; you had shown weakness.

Miles stared at you incredulously. "Wait a minute - are you jealous?"

You crossed your arms and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

"Absolutely not."

"Nuh-huh. That's why you're pouting." He grinned, and his lighthearted reaction only intensified the nauseating feeling of jealousy. "You know, part of me wishes you could come with us when we're patrolling, just so you could witness how much I talk about you when I'm with Gwen. But the other part of me is terrified of you being with us, as it would be incredibly dangerous for a civilian.”

"Yeah." Biting sarcasm. "I'm sure that's what you talk to her about."

"It is!" He scrambled over to you and leaned in close. "You don't have the faintest idea how important you are to me, do you?

"Can’t be that important, judging by your behavior.”

"Not that important!" he repeated indignantly. "I think about you all the time. How you're doing, what you're doing, if you need anything - always. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep!"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it,” you mumbled.

“What do I have to do to make you believe me?” He brushed an unruly strand of hair from your forehead, and the gentleness of his touch loosened the knot in your stomach the jealousy had caused. You had only recently started dating, so every little touch of his felt all the more exciting.  

You looked at him, and his wide eyes were filled with worry.

“Do you guys have to hang out so much?” you asked reluctantly. “How would you feel if I suddenly spent all of my time with an attractive guy who was single?”

He furrowed his brows. “Well, I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he began slowly. Then he shook his head. “Okay, scratch that, I’d be really pissed.”

You almost laughed. He was just like you.

“Then you know exactly how I feel.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

The almost-kiss had distracted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. “No idea about what?” you asked, a little breathless.

"About the things I'd do to make you happy." With a tender gesture, he took your face in his hand and caressed your cheek. "I love you more than anything in this world." The kiss that followed made any doubt you had disappear in an instant. He was telling the truth, that much was evident. “Next time, you can just straight up tell me what’s bothering you. Although I have to say, I kind of like it when you’re acting all jealous and cute.”

“Fuck off,” you said, but it was with a smile. You playfully tried to push him off of you, but he buried his face in your neck.

He was stronger than you, and his weight was pressing against you in a way that made it impossible for you to escape. Not that you wanted to - not when his lips had found your neck and left a sensation so new and good that you couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment.

“I love you,” he said, His voice was so full of affection that it warmed your heart. “Only you. Always you. I won’t be patrolling with her as much in the future, I promise.”

At times, you wondered how someone as great as him had ended up with someone like you. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmered with an amber-like hue; the smile that graced his face was a breathtaking image.

He appeared radiant in the sunlight, and in his presence, you felt a profound sense of peace and trust overcome you.

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (23)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: M'Baku

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, polyamory, fluff, angst, implied character’s death, gore (blood, multiple stabbing), implied torture

Indecent Proposal (22)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Please heed the warnings for this part!

“What do think, Alpine? Will your daddies come back soon? It’s been a few hours now,” you press the white furball to your chest. You nuzzle the cat’s head and sigh. “You’re very fluffy. No wonder Bucky likes you so much.”

Alpine allows you to place them in your lap. The cat repeatedly nuzzles your swollen belly and purrs low in its throat. “You like the babies already, huh? I bet you will love it when they grab you with their chubby hands.”

You chuckle. “Be patient, sweetie. They won’t hurt you, promised. Maybe they want to cuddle you. You’re just so…fluffy and pretty.”

Kissing the cat’s head you sniffle. “Do you think they are alright? I hope so. I can’t raise two kids knowing their daddies are…” You shake your head. “No. We don’t think about it, Y/N. Steve and Bucky promised to come back to you, and they will.”

Alpine lifts its head to look at you. The white furball meows loudly before lying back down. “You think so too, right Alpine? Soon they will be back.”

“Come on, do your worst,” Rumlow laughs in Bucky’s face. He knows this is the end, but he won’t go down crying. “I have the truth on my side.”

“You see,” Bucky presses the tip of his knife into Rumlow’s chest, drawing the first droplets of blood. “I get that you wanted to avenge the woman you loved.” He circles Rumlow, while M’Baku aims his handgun at his head to make sure Rumlow doesn’t try anything stupid.

“I would’ve done the same if anyone harmed Steve, and I did,” Bucky stops right in front of Rumlow to ram his knife into the man’s shoulder. Rumlow winces when Bucky twists the knife. “I showed mercy when she tried to get rid of my husband.”

“Mercy,” Rumlow spits in Bucky’s face. “She’s dead!”

“Yeah, because that bitch was batshit crazy!” M’Baku growls. “Bucky and I had to drag her off Steve! She was like a feral animal only because Bucky’s dick was too good.”

“Thanks, man,” Bucky laughs at M’Baku’s comment. “I appreciate your praise, but we have more important things to do right now.”

“Buck—” Steve huffs.

“What I tried to tell you is that I understand where you are coming from, Rumlow,” Bucky slides the knife back out. He watches the blood paint Rumlow’s shirt red.

“But, you didn’t go after us,” Steve rams another knife into Rumlow’s side, stabbing him twice before retracting the knife. “You tried to not only kill our wife, but our unborn children too.”

“Stop toying with that piece of shit. He’s not worth your time. Bastard tried to kill the sweet woman and her babies because his girlfriend found a better dick and went crazy.”

In the background, the rest of the men chuckle. M’Baku is not wrong. There is no use in wasting time on Rumlow and his unjustified revenge campaign.

Rumlow wheezes, he feels lightheaded. He’s close to passing out when Bucky slaps him across the face. “Don’t you dare pass out on me? You won’t get away so easily. What kind of man goes after a woman and her unborn babies?”

“A pathetic little man not getting over the fact his woman wanted something more than him,” Steve wraps his hand around Rumlow’s throat from behind. “You see, no one gets in between me, Bucky, and Y/N. Not you. Not your girl. No one.”

“You made one mistake,” Bucky twirls the knife before stabbing Rumlow’s other shoulder, “you came to our town and tried to hurt what belongs to us.”

“You don’t hurt a woman to avenge another,” Steve whispers in Rumlow’s ear as he slowly sinks his knife into Rumlow’s back. “Do you know why Bucky let her go after she tried to kill me?” He twists the knife meanly. “Because he would never hurt a woman.”

“To be fair, I killed that fake nurse,” Bucky smirks darkly. He twists the knife, earning a yelp from Rumlow. “I don’t know if it was your idea, or hers. But that one is on you. I’d never killed her if she didn’t try to kill our wife and babies.”

“Buck let’s end this,” Steve looks at his husband. He doesn’t want to drag Rumlow’s end out. “We are done here, aren’t we.”

“Not yet…”

You hear voices, and then heavy footsteps. Your heartbeat quickens and you hold your breath. Is this the moment you’ve been waiting for, or did your men’s enemies win the upper hand?

“Alpine, you punk,” Bucky curses in front of the bedroom. “Why are you wearing a diamond necklace? Hey, did you rob our wife?”

Steve chuckles while his husband fights with Alpine over the necklace. “Well, it suits the furry beast.”

“STEVIE! BUCKY!” You open the door to look at your men. Bucky is busy tugging at the necklace around Alpine’s neck while Steve watches his husband with amusement. “You’re back!”

Looking them up and down you frown. They look uninjured and are in a good mood. It seems everything went according to plan. “Why did you not call? Me and Alpine were worried sick. You missed lunch, and dinner!”

Hands on your hips you rant about missed dinners, worrying you and the poor cat, and anything in between.

“Aw, we have missed you too, Y/N,” Steve takes the chance to hug you first. His husband is still busy scolding the poor cat for stealing your necklace. “I see you found a way to kill the time.”

“Alpine kept me company. Giving the pretty kitty my diamond necklace was the least I could do. Doesn’t Alpine look good? I brushed their fur, and we watched movies together.” You hide your face in Steve’s chest, inhaling his scent deeply. “You smell good, Stevie.”

“I smell good too, baby doll,” Bucky pecks your neck. He hides that Steve and he showered and changed clothes after disposing of Rumlow’s body. “How can we make things up to you?”

You smirk. “I know a way…”

Part 24

Tags in reblog.

[xjaylyn]

PART 4 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: lmao y'all I just be lying this part is not short.💀 Also some changes have been made to the BB timeline just for one little scenario.

…UNKNOWN LOCATION...

The sound of heels can be heard coming down the hallway, paced with urgency. Opening the doors into the luxury office, the middle-aged woman steps in front of the desk, the office chair facing the city view. Clearing her throat, the woman speaks out.

"Sir, I have news of—"

Turning to face the voice, the long-haired man interrupts the woman. "Good news, I hope," he says, stroking his beard.

"N-no, sir, unfortunately, it's not that good," she says with a sheepish smile.

Taking a deep breath, the man closes his eyes and leans his head back, clenching his fist. Opening his eyes, he stares at the woman, his eyes showing a glint of irritation signaling he may snap depending on the weight of the news.

"She made it."

--------------------------------------------------------

'Well, shit.'

Staring back at the group looking at her with a mixture of confusion and wariness, Rya leans back in her seat.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Rya takes notice of their body language: defensive and ready. Rita's hand near her gun, Marcus with his hands on his side ready if need be, Kelly and Dorn standing defensively. Armando leaned forward in his seat.

She can tell they are wary of her and her next move. 'Can't blame them.' Glancing at the monitors for a second, she puts her cuffed hands up visible so they can see them. "Everything you need to know is here," she says, nodding her head towards the monitors.

Rita steps forward, aiming her gun at Rya. "That's not important. What were you sent for? Who do you work for?"

"I sent myself. I don't work for anybody…not anymore."

Mike steps forward, dropping his hands. "Alright, let's calm down for a moment. Rita, drop the gun. And Rya, if that's your real name, you need to get to explaining some shit, and truthfully," he says, getting between Rita and Rya.

Noticing her hesitate to drop her gun, unsure if it would be safe to, Mike walks over to Rita's side. "She's all we got. Give her a chance to speak, and if not, then we handle it. But…let's not lose our only connection," he whispers in her ear. Looking up at him, Rita slowly drops her arms. "If she's playing us, you better have a way to fix it," she says, keeping her gun by her side.

"I wasn't lying to you all. I just didn't tell the whole story. I had to make sure I could trust you all," she starts, keeping her hands up.

"So what's the whole story?" Marcus asks, raising his brow.

Pursing her lips, she never told her whole story out loud before. She has always held in everything she has ever gone through, but this was her only chance, so she explained everything.

"Me and my sister are prisoners to Sergio…and have been since I was 10 and her 6. He killed my parents because my father didn't finish his job and instead ran off with my mother to start a family. He waited until my father was comfortable and thought he was safe, to come and take everything from him. My mother didn't know the type of man my father was and neither did we…until it all happened."

Pausing for a second, she continues, "He made sure my father watched my mother die and me and my sister get taken. He made me and my sister watch him beg for mercy before killing him." They watched as she explained everything with no emotion on her face, almost like she has explained this story a million times and was numb to the trauma.

"He took us to this 'camp,' I guess you can call it. There he locked my sister away and told me that if I was to listen and do everything he says I would be able to free my sister. So…I did. I was put in training every day along with others. We were taught skills in numerous forms of combat, espionage, and weaponry. I was taught to conceal my emotions and endure various forms of torture. I was trained to be able to endure and adapt to any environment I was in, which I perfected sooner rather than later. I was the youngest one to show promise of loyalty and became Sergio's lead agent. Since the age of 13, I have done a lot of things I regret and hurt a lot of people." Pausing for a second, she shakes her head. "…The things I had to do are unforgivable, but I pushed through…for my sister."

"So you're a spy? For what?" Rita asks.

"His secret collective. The camp I told you about is where he 'creates' his agents. We are assigned to kill any powerful being that threatens his family's legacy and power. We're also tasked with jobs to bring in all his supply…that can be drugs, possible business partners,…people to join in the camp…anything he needs to keep his operation going."

"So he's power hungry?" Mike asks.

"Extremely so…we are just like any other animal…we have a primal instinct we can't control whenever we get power and control over someone. That feeling of power…it becomes addicting, and his family has held their reign for decades. The only problem with Sergio is that his father doubted he would be able to keep their legacy, said he would be the downfall of their wealth," she says, looking at everyone.

Watching as Armando leans back to pull out the tube of liquid out of his pocket and inspect it. "Sergio didn't take lightly to that and took extreme measures to make sure he wasn't what his father said he was…I've seen and experienced how he gets his power…he needs to be stopped, and it's not just whoever is involved that gets affected. He plans to release this drug everywhere so he can take over other countries," she continues.

"How does he get his control?" Marcus asks.

"Those drops are how he controls people," Rya says, pointing her hands towards the tube in Armando's hands. "He hires and brings in a bunch of biomedical scientists to create a drug that grants him the ability to control people and their minds. He has doctors to inject those in training to be able to manipulate them to pledge their loyalty. He can also control what they remember and know. Their memories are what he wants them to be, and he takes away the memories of the life before him, so all they know is his operation."

Armando gets up and steps forward, looking down at Rya. "So what brings you here? If you were his lead agent, wouldn't you have been affected by the drops…the most loyal one?" he questions, placing the tube on the desk next to her.

Looking at him, staring into his eyes, "It was 13 years ago I was getting assigned another task when Sergio got news that a big drop had gotten busted by the feds in Miami."

"When that drop got messed up, Sergio's operation got pushed back three years because that was the biggest supply he was getting in. I remember him going off and mentioning how it was the third drop that got taken down because of these two Miami detectives: Mike Lowery and Marcus Burnett." Breaking eye contact, she looks at Mike and Marcus, causing them to look at each other.

"13 years ago…what drop was that?" Marcus asks, looking up at Mike.

Thinking for a second, they look at each other before nodding. "Johnny Tapia—the Cuban."

"Although I was under the influence of the drug, it had one flaw…it couldn't last a long time, so there's a period where you're back to yourself and reality. But before you can completely remember, he sits you back in the chair for injections. I had a habit of writing down any bit of information I could remember, so when my memory is wiped, I can go back to it. Once I heard about you two, I made a plan by getting as close to Sergio so he can trust me and grant me more access to everything to eventually meet you two and work to bring him down. Before I was sent on my mission by Sergio, I sent every document to that drop location to download so you have evidence of everything."

Taking a moment to look at everyone process the information. Rita nods her head and puts her gun back where it was and walks over to the monitors to look at all the tabs covering the screens.

"This is everything?" she says, pointing at the screens.

Nodding her head, Rya drops her hands on her lap. "Everything. Beginning to end. I have been collecting all the information for this very moment."

Sighing, Mike shakes his head and sits down on the bench.

"This is the most information we have gotten out of a 60-year investigation. How do we know so little?"

"Because you have rats in your system," she shrugs simply. "Like I said, Sergio has connections everywhere. Trust the ones in this room only…like the mission two years ago."

"This is some crazy shit," Marcus says, shaking his head.

"How do you expect us to help?" Kelly asks, crossing her arms.

"I have a plan. Seeing that we were attacked here at this location, Sergio knows I'm here working with you all. Knowing who I am, he's going to send his best and try every way to stop us. Luckily for us, I have trained his best and know his ways, so it won't be as effective. Our worst enemy is time and resources since he's connected to all of them."

"What's the plan?" Mike asks.

"First, we need to get access to Sergio's inventory. All of his physical supplies are kept away in inventories in different parts of the world. You can use it as proof of his operation. Sergio was smart and kept that information between him and certain business partners who needed access to them. Then we need the location to the 'camp.' A map of that is locked in his inventory too. That's where he keeps all of his prisoners or 'trainees'…my sister is there too. After that, it's all fair game to whatever happens to Sergio and his operation. But if we can free those people and rack up enough evidence on him, we can surely take him down."

"How do we find his inventory if you don't know where it is?" Armando asks, tilting his head a little.

"Tomorrow night, there's a meeting happening with two of Sergio's best suppliers at a nice restaurant. They know and trust me…I doubt they know I went rogue yet. If we can get at least one of them, they can tell us where Sergio's inventory is."

A beat of silence passes by the group, contemplating everything that was told to them. It's no guarantee if they will succeed given their circumstances, but they can't back out. They have to at least try to take down an operation that has been years in the making, kept hidden from the world and its laws. No one to trust except for those in this very van. Everyone glances at each other before taking a breath.

"Okay, let's do it."

a/n: Whew y'all, there ya have it, an update.🙂‍↕️✋🏽 If you haven't caught on, Rya's character is a little inspired by Marvel's Black Widow-just the whole idea of training to be an assassin since a little girl and being tough, not really knowing how to express herself and letting herself feel certain emotions. She's a little hard-headed, but that's okay. It's going to get more interesting, and our two faves will be interacting more in the next part🙂‍↔️which I'm writing now. Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for reading, loves🫶🏼

Tag list: (lmk if you want to be added)

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

[thegoldenhoof]

After reading multiple metas on all sides, I think the biggest problem with OFMD, specially Season 2 is that it is almost entirely built on tell don't show. Worse sometimes it is hint, don't tell or show. This is not great writing in itself but it is made worse when the POV characters are all shown to have a rather unstable relationship with reality and memory.

Stede is self-centered enough to just not acknowledge or even notice things around him that don't actively interact with his focus which is mostly just Ed. He is self-centered to the point of being delusional about other people and reality of circumstances. Season 2 sees him doing better and his rescue of the crew is his highest point. But we see this even through Season 2 in his interactions with Lucius and during Ed's apology his interactions with Zheng Yi Sao.. Basically anyone not Ed.

Ed is shown to have a negotiable understanding of truth - seen with his Ed/Blackbears/Kraken split, his "I didn't kill them, the fire killed them" dissociation with his own actions, his rewriting of the context of his own memories (Knife parade) or just straight up forgetting shit (Talent show). And yes all of these are trauma responses but that does not dismiss the fact that his perception is far from objective.

Izzy is straight up shown to be lying in his first interaction with Ed regarding Stede. He is aware of his surroundings better than Stede and Ed but he is also supremely blind to himself and his interpersonal relationships. Where Stede is delusional about the world he can be interpreted as delusional about himself.

We as the audience ofcourse can put context to their words from their actions and this worked ok in season 1 (not always but mostly and that becomes important later) But Season 2 leans much more heavily on tell without show. (Yes yes budget cuts...but that doesn't change the final product).

Where season 1 added some flavour of back story with tell dont show, Season 2 expects dialogue to do all the heavy lifting (none more than Izzy's death speech) without this dialogue being backed up by action. Worse (or better) this dialogue isn't exposition which makes the scene better but which also means more often then not it is merely hinting at a meaning.

So we have half explained dialogues, sometimes with dubious context, used as a substitute for action given to us by characters with established unreliable perspectives. The heavy lifting of understanding the meaning of these dialogues, their significance and weigtt, has then been shifted to the audience interpretation. This interpretation is of course done per individual interest and bias. This is not bad in itself but remember this has been happening since season 1. Which means the new interpretations are being built on older interpretations. Those little flavour back story hints have now become the lens through which the entire season 2 is meant to be understood.

We are all watching a different show in a sense and that us not a failure of the audience. It is, rather, an accidental byproduct (and a failure) of the show's design because of the combination of all the above factors which was (made worse by the budget cuts leaving less time/space for action)

The show then unfortunately comes down to whose POV are you accepting (and certain fans have turned this into an exercise of moralizing self righteousness.) and to what extant.

A true understanding, imo, can only be by accepting that none of their perspectives are absolutely true and trying to center the objective narrative between all of them in a way that best fits all their perspectives AND accounts for all their blind spots, rather than lift any one POV as the absolute uncritical truth. (And fans on all sides have been guilty of this)

(P.S. I think this may also have worked positively towards making this show so huge is season one because it left enough ambiguity for us all to project on it multiple complex and sometimes contradicting interpretations creating an Illusion of much greater complexity that was more in our collective heads than in the actual show.)

[juanarc-thethird]

Winter is too stressed, so Jaune starts giving her a massage to relax her, which she starts to like. Then the RWBY team walks outside the room and they start to hear Winter moaning with happiness (from the massage) as she talks to Jaune. Do you think they would ignore that talk or stay to listen?

Winter's Office

Winter: *Rubbing her neck in pain*

Jaune: *knock Knock* Hey Winter, wait... are you ok?

Winter: Not really. I've had this pain in my back and neck ever since I started working on the new proposal that General Ironwood asked me to do.

Jaune: It seems that you are very stressed. Would it be okay if I gave you a massage?

Winter: You know how to give massages?

Jaune: When you live with 7 sisters you learn a few things.

Winter: Well, it's better than nothing.

Jaune: Excellent, please lie down on the couch and relax.

Meanwhile, Team RWBY is walking towards the office.

Yang: Are you sure your sister will let us use her ship to go to Patch to see our dad?

Weiss: For the tenth time, yes, she will lend us her airship. Now, when we go into her office, please don't say anything. I don't want you guys to say something dumb and then she says no.

Yang: You got it.

Ruby: *Excited* I can't wait to get home! You will love the place, we have a spectacular ocean view!

Blake: I can't wait to eat fresh fish~ *She licks her lips*

Weiss: Ok, keep quiet, we're here.

Team RWBY arrived at the entrance to Winter's office. Weiss raises her hand to knock on the door, but she stops when she hears something peculiar.

Winter: Aah~💕 Fuck!💕 You're going to break my back, Jaune. Please be caref- Aah~💕 Oh shit~!💕

The girls are petrified. For. them it seems that Jaune is-

Weiss: Don't you dare finish that sentence!

Yang: Who are you talking to?

Weiss: No one important! *She takes out her weapon*

Ruby: *Worried* What are you doin?

Weiss: *Serious* I'm going to kill Jaune.

Ruby: WEISS NO!

Ruby tries to stop Weiss, but her anger is so great that nothing stops her. She kicks the door and enters ready to kill.

Weiss: *Pointing Jaune with her weapon* Take your filthy hands off my sister!!!

In front of them were Jaune and Winter with a confused look. Jaune stops massaging Winter's back, while winter, still wearing her clothes, is still lying down.

Weiss: *Confuse* What are you guys doing?

Winter: *She got up angrily and began to stare at Weiss* That's what I'd like to ask you, Weiss. Why did you break down my door?

Weiss: *Scared* Well, you see… I was…

Yang: She thought you two were banging.

Winter: *Nervous* W-What! We weren't doing that! That's ridiculous!

Jaune: *Nervous* Yeah! We don't have that type of relation ship! I was just giving Winter a massage, that's all! She's been a little stressed these past few days, so I was just helping her!

Weiss: *Embarrassed* Oh... It seems that I was wrong, hehehe. *She laughs nervously* I'm sorry.

Winter: *sighs* It's fine, just tell me why you came.

Weiss: We wanted to ask if we could use your airship to go to Ruby and Yang's house this weekend.

Winter: Wait, this weekend?

Weiss: Yes.

Winter: *Happy* Sure, I will let my pilot know. And if you want to spend more days, just let me know. Anything else?

Weiss: Just that.

Winter: Great, if you don't mind, I want to get back to my massage~💕

Weiss: Sure, thank you Winter.

Winter: Your welcome.

The girls say goodbye and leave the office. On the way back they talk about what they're going to do this weekend, but they realize that Blake isn't talking.

Yang: Something on your mind, Blake?

Blake: Didn't you guys think it was weird that the two of them got nervous when Yang said it sounded like they were fucking?

Ruby: Well, it's a very personal question, and somewhat unexpected. Seemed like a normal reaction to me.

Yang: I agree.

Weiss: *Upset* Wait, are you implying that Jaune and my sister are "close"?

Blake: I'm not saying anything, but she looked kind of happy when she found out you wouldn't be around all weekend.

Weiss: *Worry* Well… maybe she… maybe she has…

Blake: Maybe she has another "massage" appointment with Jaune?

Weiss thought about it for a moment, and then it made sense.

Weiss: *Holding her head with both hands* Oh my god, Jaune is banging my sister.

Blake: It seems.

Yang: Damn, that's tough.

...

...

...

Ruby: So, we're still going to Patch or not?

[rallamajoop]

The RE4 Remake and Luis Serra Navarro

I have a gazillion thoughts about the new RE4 remake, and a dozen different aspects I kind of want to talk about. But you’ve got to start somewhere, so let’s talk Luis.

I doubt it’d be controversial to call Luis “easily the most interesting new character introduced in this game.” We’ve got complex and questionable motivations, a bunch of plot-relevant backstory, and a bonus-serve of extra random details about his childhood – much of which is very easy to miss, and rewards you for paying attention. By the end of this game, I’m pretty sure I know more about Luis than I do about Leon, and I still have questions. He’s not just one of my favourite parts of this new game, he’s a perfectly little microcosm of all the ways the remake has reworked awkward aspects of the original – mostly for the better, but not without creating new problems in the process.

But to get into all that, let’s start back with the original Luis from 2004.

So, for context, I haven’t actually played the original RE4. Since getting into the franchise, I’ve been consuming past canon instalments mostly by the lazy strategy of watching cutscene compilations on youtube. I am fully aware of the important place RE4 has in gaming history, the way it defined 3rd-person-shooter over-the-shoulder-gaming (or, to use my preferred term, lookit-the-booty-shooty). I have watched Jacob Geller wax rhapsodic about multiple different versions of this game.

But for all that people remember about the original RE4, the plot rarely seems to be more than a footnote. And for my own money, all I can tell you is that either this is just not a gaming experience well-served being experienced through the youtube-only medium (hardly the stuff of serious critique), or me and the original RE4 just aren’t clicking somewhere. I’m all for campy horror (see everything I’ve ever written about the Hammer films just to begin with), but RE4’s sense of humour largely leaves me cold. And Luis is – again – a pretty good demonstration of the kind of record-scratch moments that made it so hard to get into.

You can find a compilation of all Luis' cutscenes here, for reference. Like the remake, Leon first finds Luis tied up and gagged in a village house – apparently the only un-infected person in the vicinity. His first act on being un-gagged is to ask for a cigarette – a decent little character-moment. Luis claims to be a former cop from Madrid, who quit because he felt his work went unappreciated. Given Luis’ general demeanour, it wouldn’t be surprising to learn he was actually let go for taking bribes or something, but that’s more of a vibe. When Leon admits he was a cop back in Raccoon City, Luis claims he ‘might have seen a sample of the virus in a lab at the department’, and… hang on, Madrid PD has T-Virus samples lying around? The hell? Where’s this going?

But we don’t find out, because the conversation is interrupted, and Luis makes a break for it.

As in the remake, Luis’ next scene is to show up for the cabin siege scene, where he backs up Leon with a handgun. Cool, that tracks with the whole ‘former cop’ backstory.

Luis gets two further appearances, though the first mostly consists of him running up to say “I’ve got something for you guys! What… oh, shit, I must have dropped it,” and going away again, and it’s exactly as awkward as it sounds. But he does at least establish that the ‘something’ is a plagas-suppressant, as he knows Leon and Ashley are infected, and wants to help.

His final scene has him return with the suppressant, only to be stabbed in the back and killed by Saddler. As he lies dying, he admits he was really a researcher working for the Los Illuminados all along, only lately turned traitor – and we’ve officially hit our record-scratch moment.

So what was all that stuff about being a cop? Luis has good reason to lie about being a researcher, but ‘unemployed former cop’ is a heckuva cover story for a scientist, and what was that about Madrid PD having T-Virus samples? Luis-the-researcher might well have seen the virus somewhere, but why bring it up at all?

More than anything, these feel like leftover artifacts of a character who’s been substantially reworked somewhere in development, just without actually rewriting the start of the script to match. Luis’ story, like so much of this game, feels badly in need of a second draft.

Luis goes on to get something of an afterlife in collectable documents, and another scene in Ada’s DLC campaign. He’s still trying to get a plaga sample to her in this version, and he’s still responsible for the lab that cures Leon and Ashley of their infections. Ada's commentary on his character is interesting, and documents suggest he had a grandfather who used to hunt in the region, but he doesn’t get much more backstory.

Regardless, nearly 20 years later, Luis has finally got his second draft, and there’s a lot here that’s improved. (Have a new cutscene compilation link for reference.)

To begin with, any talk about being a cop is gone (an easy win). We find out he’s a researcher much earlier too – Leon is a lot less trusting of Luis this time, and calls in for a background check. He’s informed Luis used to work for Umbrella, and reacts as you’d expect. The cabin siege scene still goes off in similar fashion (though this time, Luis doesn’t feel it necessary to comment on Ashley’s tits the moment he meets her – another definite improvement).

This time though, Ashley starts coughing up blood immediately after they escape, and Luis’ offer to help remove the parasites happens right after the cabin siege, rather than being left for some awkward whoops-I-dropped-it moment later. The new scene actually finishes with the very same exchange (“Why are you helping us?”/ “It just makes me feel better”) – but this version, similarly, feels so much better. A+ revision work so far.

The remake also spells out Luis’ deal with Ada sooner too – her first proper scene in this version is her first contact with Luis. Again, Luis’ story ends in the castle with a stab in the back, and the stolen sample he was carrying being reclaimed by one of the villains (Krauser, this time, since Saddler apparently likes to delegate more in this version). But in between, things get a little odd.

Having already offered to help them, Luis contacts Leon by radio a couple of times during the castle chapters – firstly to say he’s waiting for Leon and Ashley in the courtyard. But Luis isn’t in the courtyard. His next message claims that he ran into trouble, and he’s had to retreat to the ballroom. But he’s not in the ballroom either. No further calls happen, nor does Leon react to his absence in either location.

Leon finally runs into him, apparently by chance, after being thrown down a hole and wandering for some time through tunnels deep under the castle. How did Luis end up down there too? No idea.

I’m glad he does though, because the following chapter you spend with Luis as your cabin-siege-style partner is a very good time. Though Leon is still distrustful and Luis still evasive, they exchange some great banter and generally make a good team. We encounter Luis’ love for Don Quixote, he admits he was working for Los Illuminados… and then Krauser stabs him, and Leon lights one last cigarette for him before he dies. It’s touching and very well done (not to mention dense with slashy subtext, if you want to take it that way).

Exploring Luis’ lab during the game’s final chapter adds some nice details too – equipment pilfered from Umbrella, an old photo with his colleagues, and naturally, text documents everywhere. But it’s his email logs with “A.W.” (Ada, obviously) that will most reward anyone paying attention – particularly the line you still remember the code phrase?

In this version, ‘got a smoke?’ is still almost the first thing Luis says to Leon. But you might notice it’s also the first thing he says to Ada. And this time, we’ve got a whole new explanation as to why.

Admittedly, the execution is still a bit lacking. Luis calls Ada by her first name just a few lines after using his ‘code phrase’, and seems to know her well enough not to need a code phrase, so what's going on here? If Luis knew Ada herself was going to meet him, why try his code phrase out on Leon? Alternately, if he suspected Ada might have sent someone like Leon instead of coming in person, how did he know it was her when they met? Maybe we could still have used another draft. But it’s a otherwise a fun little easter egg to recontextualise something from the original in a creative way.

Much more has been added to Luis’ backstory hidden in documents from the village. You can find photos of 'a boy with his grandfather', an old diary left behind by said grandfather – and if you’re paying really close attention, a label on another copy of that photo naming the pair ‘Navarro’ – Luis’ last name. You might also notice that the boy in the story has Luis’ fixation on Don Quixote (another character trait added by the remake).

But young Luis’ story ends in tragedy, the conclusion picked up elsewhere in the village elder’s records: the grandfather is bitten by a wolf, begins experiencing what seem to be known symptoms, and tells the village elder "you know what to do." The old man is killed, and his cabin and everything in it burned to the ground so the infection can’t spread.

Now, the idea the village has been quietly dealing with plaga-infected wolves for generations despite the fact that the plaga were supposedly sealed under the castle until recently has problems of its own, but that’s a bit beyond scope. The more relevant problem is the idea that Luis comes from the same village where all the action takes place – why? What does this add to the story? With Luis’ new Umbrella-Europe-backstory, making the village his birthplace seems like little more than meaningless coincidence, thrown in without anyone thinking it through.

But there is one intriguing possibility buried in the subtext of Luis’ story, and it’s an angle I’d love to see explored.

The village records end with the scene of a young Luis watching in silence as his childhood home burns to the ground, his only family still inside, then walking away, never to be seen again. Now, suppose that’s the very moment that inspired him to go into medical research, driven to understand infectious agents like the one that took his grandfather’s life, that the people he grew up with only knew to treat with medieval superstition. Suppose that’s what made him seek out shady employers like Umbrella, the only outfits with the interest and funding to delve into that area. The drive to find cures, to find proof that what happened to his grandfather didn’t have to be treated like a ritual witch-burning could’ve fuelled a lot of denial in Luis about where the funding was coming from. And after Umbrella’s collapse, you can only imagine how he might jump at the chance to work on the same parasites that had infected that wolf from so long ago.

If that was the intent, though (and damn do I want it to be), I honestly think it’s a little too buried in layers of subtext to carry. I can only hope maybe we’ll be seeing more of Luis in DLC to come – in Ada’s Separate Ways, if not his own – that might expand on those parts of his history a little more explicitly. Or at least cover what he was actually up to all that time he keeps messaging Leon from different parts of the castle (did he genuinely run into trouble? Was Ada pushing him to keep Leon moving for her own purposes? How did he wind up down in the mines?)

The notion of Luis as a village native still has its problems though. The house you find him in seems to be the same one he grew up in – it’s a cabin by the lake, his grandfather’s diary and photo is there, etc. Only those old village records spell out very clearly that that cabin burned to the ground as part of a major character moment. Which is it, game? You can’t have it both ways.

Even if we ignore that awkward ‘burned to the ground’ detail, are we to take it the ganados caught Luis in his old house and left him tied him up in his own cellar? Wouldn’t they move a prisoner like him? Speaking of which, was that one guy banging on the floor supposed to be hammering the hatch shut? Why? Was Luis being left down there to die? Don’t they still need to question him about that sample he stole? This stuff does not stand up to scrutiny.

And the idea of Luis as a native still doesn’t completely work for me, because shouldn’t there have been some clue in the way he talks about the place? Chief Mendez is a man Luis knew from his childhood – when Luis sees him coming in a cutscene, his reaction betrays no more familiarity than ‘not this guy’. In that cabin siege scene, surely there must be faces in that crowd he’s firing on that he recognises. And fuck, how do you come back to the place you grew up, find its residents reduced to zombie slaves, and think, “sure, I could work for these people…”?

I do realise expecting this level of humanity out of characters in a Resident Evil game might be a little much, but this stuff throws me. It builds the impression the Luis who grew up in the village is a character that exists only in text files, largely independent from the cutscene-Luis of the rest of the game. When you expect your audience to notice minor details like a surname on a photo in order to put together a main character’s backstory, you’re demanding they pay close attention. And once you’ve demanded that much investment, it’s worth keeping track of whether the cabin by the lake was supposed to be burned down or not, why Luis should be able to call Ada by name but treat Mendez like a stranger, and other such confusing detail. And Luis’ story is still positively logical and consistent compared to that of Chief Mendez himself, or anything much else in the game’s lore.

Luis is genuinely one of my favourite parts of the remake – he’s complicated, interesting, and fun. But trying to make sense of him could be a more rewarding experience. Many things are improved from the original, but for my money, they could still have stood to go for a third draft.

[kirbyprompts]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

from critical role's the mighty nein episodes 34-71. feel free to change prompts as you see fit!

❝do they know you?❞

❝do they check weapons at the door, or anything like that?❞

❝i want to see how strong you’ve gotten.❞

❝well, how do i look?❞

❝i like myself just the way i am.❞

❝call this your home so long as you’d like to stay.❞

❝do you still love them?❞

❝love is a funny thing.❞

❝can you recommend any bookstores here?❞

❝hey, crime boss, are you my dad?❞

❝i don’t want people to know i’m still alive.❞

❝you’re asking a lot of questions for a person i just met.❞

❝i think you could snap me like a twig.❞

❝i think, perhaps, it’s destiny. do you believe in destiny?❞

❝i don’t have any dreams at night. is that worrisome?❞

❝it is funny how you keep showing up like a bad penny.❞

❝please don’t kill me.❞

❝i didn’t expect you to come in here and slaughter my contacts.❞

❝who were you supposed to deliver this to?❞

❝you’re not afraid of dying, are you?❞

❝is life always this directionless?❞

❝sometimes the things that are the most beautiful are the things that can hurt you the worst.❞

❝out of idle curiosity why have you been trying to butter me up?❞

❝i thought i had you figured out.❞

❝we’re about to be boarded by fucking pirates.❞

❝i am trying to process this as quickly as i can.❞

❝is there food in this bitch?❞

❝do you want to control the sea?❞

❝how many dudes you think you killed?❞

❝how many fingers am i holding up?❞

❝get out of there!❞

❝these days i’ve spent with you are the most exciting of my entire life.❞

❝this was the worst day of my life.❞

❝i’m getting used to the idea that this wouldn’t be a test if it was easy.❞

❝i think the world is shaping you into something important and i want to make sure that you get to wherever you need to be.❞

❝okay, i feel like shit, so i’m going to bed.❞

❝what was your first kiss like?❞

❝don’t fire on them unless they fire on us, you understand?❞

❝sometimes you can be nice to people too.❞

❝you better be sure this is something you want to die for.❞

❝if you’re lying to me, i’ll slit your throat.❞

❝pleasure to meet you. i have the feeling you’re having a really bad day.❞

❝just keep your mouth shut for like 30 damn seconds.❞

❝this is very dangerous to give to you, but you’re the perfect person to have it.❞

❝i was born to be a cannoneer.❞

❝have you ever sacrificed anything in order to achieve a greater goal?❞

❝i was alone for a long time and ran from everything.❞

❝i feel like a fool much of the time.❞

❝i could fill a book with what i don’t know.❞

❝what if we can never go home?❞

❝this is the best plan we’ve ever had!❞

❝i’m going to summon a demon.❞

❝no, really! she was a really bad person before we killed her and everyone on the boat!❞

❝i’m not an asshole. i’m asshole adjacent.❞

❝of course it’s minimalizing. have you met me? everything i do is minimizing.❞

❝do you ever feel like your relationship with your cat is hindering building stronger relationships with human people?❞

❝i understand when i’m being condescended to! even when i’m drunk!❞

❝hey. sorry for being a dick. bye.❞

❝i go where the wind goes.❞

❝yeah, i’m not a happy guy.❞

❝that’s what we do, we seek out active doom.❞

❝to be perfectly honest, yes, there were quite a few people chasing me.❞

❝best not to call attention.❞

❝i will so gladly introduce you to my cat because i’m very fond of him and love for people to meet him.❞

❝we’re running! it’s bad!❞

❝it was nice to meet you and nearly die next to you.❞

❝i’ve always heard that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but i feel pretty fucking weak right now.❞

❝i think i oddly feel the most comfortable when things are a fraction away from going terribly wrong.❞

❝my mother was a big believer in the buddy system.❞

❝got to be careful with what risks you take, but without risks, you’re never going to get what you want.❞

❝in my loneliness i just turned to anger.❞

❝sometimes you’re running towards something so fast that you can’t remember why you’re running in the first place.❞

❝i get nervous to get close to people because i feel like i lose them.❞

❝i’m either very unlucky or cursed, and i don’t believe in luck.❞

❝don’t forget me. i won’t forget you.❞

❝if you hear the signal, run. you remember the signal? it’s ‘AHHHHHHH'❞

❝don’t turn evil, okay? but if you do, i’ll still be your friend. i mean, it’s okay. you know, some people are evil. it’s okay. just don’t turn evil to me.❞

❝sometimes it sounds like you don’t have much love for home.❞

❝we need to know the ones we love.❞

❝i guess it’s easier to pretend like you don’t care.❞

❝you would do anything for love.❞

❝i would protect you.❞

❝do we look like tourists?❞

❝that could have gone much worse.❞

❝why does it feel like everyone here is hitting on me, but also insulting me at the same time?❞

❝what? why are you looking at me like that?❞

❝i operate alone. that’s how i survived this long.❞

❝i’m a danger to you by proximity, as much as you are a danger to me.❞

❝how was i supposed to get better? you fucking left!❞

❝now, i see great possibility in you. you have potential. but you need to listen to me and think before you act.❞

❝your rash, intense behavior will be your downfall.❞

❝no one has to see what you’re doing is good, as long as it is good.❞

❝i do not do this for accolades. i do this because i serve the purpose to provide a better world for those who. cannot defend themselves.❞

❝i can’t tell your morning voice apart from your just-almost-died voice.❞

❝if you ask, the worst they can do is say no, and throw you in prison, and you’ll never see your family again.❞

❝we are exiles in every sense of the word.❞

❝you made the right call. i’m very proud of you.❞

❝what would you have done differently?❞

❝for the first time in a really long time, i feel hopeful.❞

❝now that i’m with you, i don’t know how i could be apart from you.❞

❝oh boy, i don’t understand anything that’s going on.❞

❝i trust your heart. it’s in a good place.❞

❝i think you might be wrong. i can’t say it with 100% certainty, but you might be.❞

❝i had a very bad dream.❞

❝i think i’ve done something very bad and i don’t remember.❞

❝have i done something terrible?❞

❝i am talking to you as one accomplished liar to another.❞

❝this is our family now and we are looking out for eachother.❞

❝we can remake ourselves into something better.❞

❝those things were fucking scary as fuck!❞

❝it’s a tomb with an exit. that’s the worst kind.❞

❝maybe we shouldn’t go in. let’s just go back.❞

❝i know you lost your family. we can be your new one.❞

❝i’m just doing my best.❞

❝i’ve never seen you get scared.❞

❝are you feeling scared? you should. this is terrifying.❞

❝try what you want. you won’t break me.❞

❝your life hangs by a thread. what have you to lose?❞

❝some of us get tired of macabre fairytales. so you enjoy your mouthful of lies when they choke it out of you.❞

❝we’re being sneaky! stop talking so loud!❞

❝i’m confused. do you want me to stay or not?❞

❝is this conversation appropriate to have in a hot tub?❞

❝it’s been really hard trying to figure out who’s just a traitor and who’s an actual demon.❞

❝all i can give you is my loyalty.❞

[trueshellz]

Warmth

Part of my Invisible Illness Series

Warnings: endometriosis, heavy bleeding, pain, cramping, reader crying, cuddles, tummy rubbing, female reader.

Summary: As if a 'normal' period wasn't bad enough...

Shugo dropped his bag in the hallway as he opened the door, eyes squinting in the dim light as he flicked the hallway switch. He couldn't hear you singing in the kitchen like usual, didn't hear the TV blasting a random movie like usual, there was no singing from the bathroom as you sat in the tub surrounded by bubbles.

It was utterly quiet.

He had been a little concerned when you hadn't attended the after game party, you were usually happy to meet his teammates and go out for food. He had trouble keeping Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu calm while you were around. They were so adamant on showing off and being loud, each of them vying for your attention and causing a scene. But today you had barely spoke to him, one or two word responses to his texts and declining his calls. Instead of staying out with his team he had chosen to leave early and figure out why you were avoiding him so much.

"Babe?"

Head peering around the door he sighed in relief when he saw you lying on the bed curled up on your side. He could hear the small whimpers of distress, each noise tugging at his heart and when he walked over to you, he could feel the wetness on your face from a mixture of tears and sweat. As he squatted down he saw the hot water bottle on your stomach, the plethora of medication on the bedside table and the could see you massaging your stomach in tight circles.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?"

You shook your head adamantly, you had watched the boys play and celebrated their win at home by yourself. You had been all ready to go out for their post-game meal but your cramps had gone from niggling and irritating to flat out stabbing and devastating. Even after your strongest medications, a heat patch and hot water bottle you could barely move, your boobs were so painful that even your t-shirt against your nipples made you whimper in discomfort.

"Shh, I gotcha. Don't worry."

You couldn't help the whine of pain when the bed dipped, Shugo's hands pulling up your top gently to free your aching breasts. One hand tucked under them to take some of the pressure as he massaged them gently, the other hand rubbing small circles on your stomach. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest against your back, he must have taken his top off and lay behind you. He was always so warm, like your own life sized hot water bottle and had no issues with you using his warmth to ease the pain.

"Any better?"

"A bit... my boobs hurt so much, Meian. And the pills aren't working, I bled through two outfits and got one of your t-shirts dirty too. I'll wash it later, I'm sorry."

"Hey. Hey. Listen to me, do not apologise for this ok? Seeing you in pain kills me and I dont give two shits about my shirt. Just throw the damned thing in the trash, burn it for all I care."

"I just-"

"Baby, listen. Clothes and belongings mean shit all to me, you are the most important person in my life. OK?"

"OK."

Between the warmth of his body and the lull of his voice in your ear, the last thing you recalled was Shugo telling you the crazy antics of the team as your eyes drifted shut and you fell asleep.

[garfeildfanpage]

To kind of add onto the Aoiaoi post from earlier I just wanted to include a few things I didn’t mention cause discourse

Akane didn’t strangle Aoi, but he still pushed her over, and proceeded to grab her by the neck and forced her upwards, hence the coughing. That’s still bad, actually!

Tbhktwt is having a moment right now, and I feel like a lot of people are either overblowing / diluting the conflict in the chapter. Akane is being forceful, both physically and not, and that’s not good! It’s obvious to say that in no other situation would Aoi have confronted her issues, but that doesn’t take away from the invasive act of it. He isn’t just forcing her to confront her feelings, he’s distressing her on purpose to prove his point, no matter his intentions he’s still doing something wrong. They’re both incredibly messed up individuals, and Aoi has a lot of blood on her hands as well.

Aoi intended on killing herself, and when Akane got in her way, she took him with her.

I’ve reread Akane & Aoi multiple times and still sit on the conclusion that their confrontation solved nothing. Akane is upset at Aoi for lying to people, but he doesn’t once try to rationalize why she’s doing so. Instead, he puts all the blame on her. He claims to understand her so deeply yet not once does he show her an ounce of grace. All he does is make her problems a “what about me?”, he doesn’t ask her anything, it’s all just what he thinks. “Why do you act like this?” Would’ve been a lot better than just getting in her face to yell, I think. Aoi has reasons for the way she acts, not excuses, but she tells him why she thinks that way and he still doesn’t get it. He repeatedly dismisses her distress, and gets in her space when she doesn’t want him to. She isn’t flustered, she’s uncomfortable. Which should be obvious considering the difference between the expressions she makes when she is! This chapter, and I really can’t stress this enough, is the farthest thing from romantic, and absolutely eons away from being even remotely healthy. This chapter is a hard and uncomfortable read, because of how deeply gross it is.

Aoiaoi is an incredibly complex relationship that shows two people in a toxic codependency, and Akane & Aoi is the absolute breaking point. They’re both fucked up in ways that only being apart can fix, and when forcing them to “confront” their issues, it’s just going to get messy. The objective view of them as peers is muddled when you focus on the imbalance between the two. Aoi has dealt with constant harassment from childhood, and as shown in the chapter, and has assumedly been mostly sexual harassment. And for Akane show such a clear disregard of her comfort is gross in basically every way. That is the rock bottom of Aoiaoi, and I am so tired of people justifying what happens just because they like them.

And I can repeat this a thousand times, every relationship in tbhk is flawed. But that doesn’t mean you should ignore the bad behavior in them, and using it as an excuse is exhausted and weird. You can like Aoiaoi all you want, but that doesn’t mean you should justify the bad shit! Every relationship is flawed, but that doesn’t mean they’re all flawed the same. Not everything is toxic yaoi, some things are just toxic, and acknowledging that is really important. Don’t justify abuse or mistreatment! I think!

I could restate the whole end-part of the original Aoiaoi post but I don’t feel like it. Uhmmmm I don’t hate Aoiaoi I just personally think they should be treated by the fandom at large with more tact and care. They’re volatile and in a lot of cases I see people just, ignore the toxicity, in favor of a cute ship and that’s not great. Understanding flaws within characters is important, don’t be dense, don’t be misogynistic! Cause Aoi hate is usually that! Akane hate isn’t though as much as I love him he has his,,,low points (this entire post) and deserves getting thrown through multiple stained glass windows

Uh ninja out bye

[princeescaluswords]

The State Championship

One of the key things I like about Teen Wolf is the way its heroic protagonist, Scott McCall, defined heroism through his compassion. This active compassion is not restricted to simply alleviating suffering; it also extends to the awareness of people as individuals with different abilities, needs, and motivations. In other words, Scott cared for people even when they didn't make his life easy or do what he wanted. It is a defining trait for him, even though he still had to learn several important lessons, including recognizing boundaries, acknowledging failure, and coping with the idea that others would use this compassion against him.

I feel that nothing shows this more than his friendship with Stiles Stilinski. Scott doesn't need Stiles to be perfect, to be always right, to be powerful; he simply needs Stiles to be Stiles. For me, one incident in particular shows the depth of Scott's love for Stiles.

When the episode Battlefield (2x11) starts, it's the week of the State Championships, which the Beacon Hills High School has managed to reach even with two separate serial killing sprees going on during the same semester. At the beginning of the series, Scott's dream was to make First Line. That dream is gone.

Scott: Well, thanks, but I'm not - I'm not going either. Can't even think about playing some meaningless game right now. Isaac: You weren't at practice last week, were you?

It seems that Jackson, who Scott knows has not only been turned by Derek into the kanima but is now under the control of Gerard Argent is going to be playing in the State Championship. Scott decides he has to play, because Gerard is up to something. After all, he always has a plan.

The stakes are raised throughout the episode. Derek is elsewhere, beating the shit out of Peter in a useless expression of self-loathing. Scott's been benched by Coach due to Gerard's manipulation. His mother -- directly threatened by Gerard at the beginning of the episode -- comes to the game. Gerard gives a very menacing speech with serious overtones. Scott doesn't know what to do.

And then, as Stiles and Scott sit next to each other on the bench, both nervously waiting for the game to start.

Stiles: You know what's going on? Scott: Not yet. Stiles: It's going to be bad, isn't it? I mean, like people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming kind of bad? Scott: Looks like it. Stiles: Scott, the other night seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, while I'm just lying there and I can't even move, it just - I want to help, you know, but I can't do the things that you can do. I can't - Scott: It's okay.

And that's that. Scott spends the rest of the episode struggling with Gerard, who threatens to "have Jackson rip someone's head off right in the middle of the field and drench everyone you love and care about in blood." Gerard threatens Scott's mother, Lydia, Stiles and random spectators. While Isaac comes to Scott's assistance, Scott has to leave the game to save Isaac from being killed by Gerard and his hunters.

But throughout the game, there is not one line of dialogue and not one frame of action that indicates Scott resents or even thinks about asking Stiles for help. Stiles has told Scott that he's at his limit, and Scott won't ask Stiles to give more than he can.

So it ends up that while Stiles is happily scoring his first goal, Scott is fighting hunters in the locker room. He's stressed, he's panicking, he's in over his head, but he doesn't put that burden on a friend who has said he can't handle any more. The production actually lampshades it:

Gerard: You want to play chess, Scott? Then you better be willing to sacrifice your own pawns.

But that's the point: Stiles (and Isaac) aren't pieces on a board to Scott. He won't treat them as pawns (the way Derek and Peter treated him), even for the greater good.

In order to stop Gerard and Derek from killing innocent people, Scott has already given up his lacrosse season and he is in the process of losing Allison. His mother is now in danger. Stiles and Isaac are now in danger. And if he isn't fighting killers armed with wolfsbane bullets and broadswords, he's confronted with a werelizard agent of vengeance.

Meanwhile, Stiles is becoming the MVP of the State Championships, getting the acclaim of the crowd and his fellow players, including his father and Lydia Martin. And this never bothers Scott one little bit. He wants Stiles to play, if that's what Stiles wants to do. He doesn't try to demand or guilt Stiles into helping him. He wants Stiles to be happy.

While the episode ends badly for Stiles, that's not Scott's fault. Gerard takes Stiles because Scott doesn't succumb to Gerard's manipulations on the battlefield.

That makes Scott a good friend. That makes Scott a hero.

[someidiotwithalaptop]

Alright: What the FUCK happened to Summer???

Because something sure did, and every new thing we hear about her gets more disturbing, and it haunts me.

So, I'll start with stuff that's fairly certain and like, small leaps of logic before I go full tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. We have very little actual info about Summer, nearly all of it from different characters talking about her.

From Yang we get the basic facts from her family's perspective: Summer was a Huntress who went out on a mission and never came back. We also get the characterization of, "Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters."

From Qrow, we learn that 1. She was a brat, which like, honestly STRQ was probably just "oops! all brats" 2. He thinks she would have pressed on if she knew the truth, which, uh, she almost definitely did. "We don't have to kill you to stop you," is not the sort of thing you say to Salem if you don't know she's immortal, that's all I'm saying. 3. Whatever her final mission was, she didn't tell him or Tai or Ozpin. I'm inclined to believe Ozpin when he says he genuinely doesn't know what happened to Summer, since his biggest secret is already out—plus he's been genuinely repentent about the mess his lying caused in Volume 6 and is taking steps to do better in the future. It would feel really weird thematically if he knew and was keeping yet another giant bomb of a secret. So Summer went on her final mission alone, or at the very least, she didn't tell any of Ozpin's inner circle where she was going.

We'll get to speculating about why not later, but I think this point is probably going to be important in Ruby's character arc—whatever Summer's ultimate fate, she got there because she tried to save the world alone, and we've seen Ruby do something similar. Like she's not running off after Salem by herself, but she's definitely trying to shoulder the burden of leading and inspiring everyone to keep going all on her own, without asking for help as that responsibility has been slowly yet systematically destroying her mental health. I mean ffs she's been literally carrying her team on her shoulders for two episodes now.

HOWEVER: Oz, Tai, and Qrow don't know anything about what happened to Summer, but it's possible that Raven might. When Ruby tries to reach out to her and convince her to work together, because they'll have a better chance than if they try to do it alone, Raven says, "You sound just like your mother," in truly the most bitter, disdainful-ass tone I have ever heard. And then she opens a portal for Cinder to throw a fireball at her. Whether this is about a more generalized friction that maybe contributed to Raven leaving, or a specific moment when Summer tried to get her on board with whatever she was doing on that final mission, is kind of uncertain. Or it could be both!

(And it might also be she married my ex bitterness but, admitting my biases here, I hate that fucking trope with a fiery passion and I think it's more interesting if her anger at Summer is actually about Summer.)

Regardless, if Summer did ask her for help, then based on how Raven reacted to Ruby I don't think she got it lmao

And then. Oh, and then. We get Salem!

"Your mother said those words to me. She was wrong too."

"Her again?"

So like. Salem definitely met her. Had a whole-ass conversation with her, even.

And that fucking smile??? Salem did some shit to Summer. It's just a question of what, exactly?

Right. Okay. So after they kill the Hound and realize WHOOPS that was a person and he looks an awful lot like Ruby! and everyone reunites, Ruby says this:

"When I saw its eyes, I knew. Salem used to kill people with Silver Eyes, like Maria. But she’s always wanted me alive. Why would that change unless, when she met Mom, she learned she could do something new?"

Timeline-wise, this seems accurate! But I'd like to also insert TR into the equation. It's a little hard to tell given the uhh, body horror of it all, but he definitely looks younger than Qrow (which is maybe not saying a lot given that Raven looks at least ten years younger than Qrow and she's his twin lmao) and, more to the point, like he's probably younger than Summer.

Like, yeah, hard to tell, but I don't think this man is past forty. And even if he is, it doesn't seem like Salem's had him for very long, seeing as she never sent him after Ruby or the relics in previous volumes. So he's probably an example of what Salem's been doing to SEWs after Summer.

Also, Salem calls him an experiment, and says that so far she's pleased with the results. Meaning Summer isn't exactly a Hound, though I wouldn't say that puts grimmification off the table. Just that it's not in the exact same way he is. And it's worth pointing out that the way TR has been grimmified, it's left him completely without agency and unable to disobey Salem. Even after Ruby blasts the Grimm off his head, he's still left repeating "Take The Girl" over and over without any sign of whoever he used to be coming back to the surface. It's possible that is what Salem is referring to when she calls him a successful experiment.

So the way Salem has dealt with people with silver eyes has gone:

Maria (kill her) > Summer (?!?!) > TR (an... experiment) > Ruby (bring her to me alive)

Adding TR into the mix, it seems unlikely that the "something new" Salem learned she could do from Summer Rose would actually have been, y'know, a Hound. Plus from a narrative perspective, I don't think we're going to have Ruby literally saying exactly what happened to Summer into the camera only for her to turn up, Hound-ified just as expected, a couple volumes later. So, some possibilities:

Ruby is actually exactly correct about what happened to Summer, but she's not going to show up later so there's no reason not to just tell us. Personally I doubt it's this, given the way the mystery has been unfolding over eight volumes and counting. It'd be kind of weird to just tell us instead of showing us, or indeed having the Hound literally be Summer. Also, if Summer is a Hound too then why is TR an experiment?

Summer was Grimmified but didn't survive the process, so she gave Salem the idea but she's not actually a Hound. This also seems a bit odd to me given that would mean she's basically just dead like we assumed, but with extra steps. Like it's upsetting but it doesn't represent the kind of dramatic upheaval to the sisters' worldviews that it feels like this is building towards. It doesn't explain how fucking smug Salem is about the whole thing.

Summer was Grimmified, but didn't actually lose any agency. This would explain why Salem is still experimenting, and why she's so pleased with TR—he's even more singleminded in carrying out her goals than Tyrian is. It also fits with the way the Grimmification worked on Salem. Even after she jumped into the goop, she was still very much herself—it's possible it influenced her, but she was definitely capable of showing love and affection to both Ozma and her daughters. She just, uhh,,, was also willing to try and murder them. But it's unclear to me how much of that was Evil Goo and how much was just that there's no way a human being spends any significant length of time as the Last Woman Alive without some unpleasant side effects. We're social creatures and we do not generally do well when completely deprived of company.

Summer wasn't Grimmified at all, the whole Hound thing is a red herring.

In either 3 or 4, regardless of how much body horror happened, Ruby is wrong about what happened to Summer. And in order to not undercut that moment of utter despair at what probably happened to Summer... I feel like what actually did happen has to be. like. worse.

AND IT'S A TAD DIFFICULT TO GET WORSE THAN THE HOUND.

So. Time to put our tinfoil hats on: what if we add an element of horrible betrayal?

Yes this is a Summer-joined-Salem conspiracy post.

But hear me out okay! Circling back a bit, why wouldn't Summer tell any of the inner circle where she was going? If she talked to anyone, it was Raven, who had already noped the fuck out by the time Summer went on her final mission. Now, if it was just Tai and Qrow I'd say she might've kept it from them for the same reason everyone always keeps that secret—she didn't want them to lose hope. But... Ozpin already knows. There'd be no reason not to tell him what she was doing, unless she knew he'd try to stop her.

Now: my goal here is to make all this make sense, without altering the first foundational piece of characterization we get for Summer. Namely, "Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters." I'm not saying Summer learned the truth and went, welp, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. Because both Summer and Raven tend to act as foils to Ruby and Yang, and "gave up immediately" doesn't feel like an interesting foil to Ruby's perserverence. But, if you find out that there's an existential threat to the entire world, and she can't be killed...

Isn't it worth trying to negotiate?

Especially if, say, you were absolutely desperate to end this war in your lifetime. Because Summer knows that if it's really impossible, if Salem can't be stopped, then Ruby will get dragged in whether she likes it or not. All because of a trait that Summer passed down to her.

Salem's been killing people with silver eyes, probably for millenia. It's easily possible that Summer had her own visit from someone like Tock, or noticed the same thing Maria's father did, that there's a suspicious lack of people with silver eyes considering how useful they are against the Grimm. As long as Salem is a threat, Ruby is going to be in that same danger. Forever.

So she has to do something, right? If there's even the tiniest chance she can end this now, before Ruby will ever have to suffer for it, before she gets pulled into an impossible war and Yang comes charging in after her, because of course she's going to try to help her sister... isn't that a chance worth taking?

This is why I think Raven knows some shit, by the by—when she's telling Yang about Salem, she actually kind of indirectly drops the same bomb that went off in Volume 6, it's just that she didn't do it in the same explicit terms that Jinn did. "She can't be stopped, she can't be reasoned with, and she will not rest until Humanity crumbles at her feet."

"Can't be stopped" is Raven's translation of can't be killed, since "We don't have to kill you to stop you" seems to be a flavor of terrifying exclusive to Ruby and apparently Summer. But "can't be reasoned with" implies that somebody tried. And like, let's be honest. Do we really think Raven was the one who decided to give diplomacy a go?

Not to mention this line, which I'm like 90% sure is referring to Summer:

"Or... you can go back to Qrow and join Ozpin's impossible war against Salem, and meet the same fate as so many others."

It really seems like Raven knows something she's not telling us. Like, if that is a reference to Summer's fate, does that mean Raven knows what it is, or is she just speculating like everyone else? Does she have a portal to Summer, and is that giving her information the others don't have? All that, combined with the fact that she's also way more bitter about Summer than everyone else, seems signficant.

Anyways. Let's say Summer decides to have a chat with Salem.

She can't tell Ozpin. He'd try to stop her, because he'd see it as a suicide mission. Qrow or Tai both might tell him, or agree with him and get in her way, so she keeps it from them too. Maybe she goes off completely by herself—or maybe she goes to Raven, because she's the only one who might be able to help who Summer knows won't breathe a word of it to Ozpin. Either way, Raven doesn't help her. She's not getting anywhere near Salem.

And then... well. Salem got here by manipulating people, by swaying them to her cause. Summer asks her what she actually wants out of all this. Isn't there some way they could resolve this without this endless war, all this endless death?

Important to note, I don't think we've heard Salem's motivation in her own words. At least, not since the Lost Fable, when she wanted to rule with Ozpin as the new gods of Remnant. I think it's safe to say at least a few things have changed since then. Closest I can think of is what she says to Cinder in Volume 8, "In pursuit of a new world, no cost is too great." Which is ominous, but also quite vague, and says nothing about what she plans to do with the relics.

Instead, we get a whole lot of people guessing. Ozpin thinks she wants to die. Tyrian thinks she wants to destroy the world. Hazel and Mercury think she wants to remake it, with no Huntsman Academies, with them as the new top dogs.

There's a pattern here—Salem never actually says what she wants, and other people have a habit of projecting their own motives onto her actions. Ozpin wants to die, Hazel wants to destroy the Huntsmen Academies, Mercury wants to be the one with the power so he's not getting hurt, and Tyrian's just in it for the chaos.

And it's not like Salem hasn't done stuff like that on purpose. By the time she started growing her army against the gods and telling people they would all steal immortality like she did, she'd already tried to kill herself. She didn't want immortality. She just let people think she did, because it was more convenient for her.

So if this agent of Ozpin's comes to her, absolutely desperate for a way to end the fight before it can come for her daughters, well... why not just tell her about the gods? About how Ozpin plans to one day reunite the relics, and submit Remnant to their judgment? About what might happen if he does?

(TBH I don't think Oz will ever do that, not because I think he's decided not to or anything like that, but because I doubt he'll ever see a humanity united enough for it to be worth trying. We're an argumentative bunch.)

But like. To Summer, all of a sudden there's this other, even bigger existential threat. And Salem isn't like Ozpin. She does have a plan! She wants to destroy the relics, so that the gods can never be resummoned, because of course she hates them and so she would never want them to come back!

(Again, not saying this is actually true, my best guess is that she's trying to bring them back so she can fight them again slkdfjlskdj)

And then, if they succeed, not only will the gods not be a threat anymore, Salem won't be a threat either. She'll have gotten what she wants!

"This can all... be... over..."

Summer has to finish this. There has to be a way for her to do this by herself, to save everyone, to put a stop to it all in time to protect her children! (Raven can't be right, it can't just be hopeless!)

From there, all Salem really needs to do is be a bit careful how much she tells her other followers about what she plans to do—which it seems like she has—and eventually find a way to either hide what relics she has or convince Summer that she's trying really hard to destroy them, definitely, pinky promise!

(And, as an aside: if true, it's very possible that the reason Salem's so insistent on keeping Ruby alive isn't that she wants to turn her into another Hound, but rather that was one of Summer's conditions.)

All this, of course, may or may not come with a sprinkle of Grimmification. Because why not add some body horror to the good old-fashioned betrayal horror! Though, if I'm right and not going completely off the wall here, I suspect it's probably more in the vein of Cinder than TR. Namely, like, consensual.

Regardless, it definitely feels like Summer has been idealized to a point that's just sort of... begging for trouble. She's the perfect Huntress. The best of us. The one who would have pressed on. And like, historically putting people on pedestals like that has not gone well in this show (see: Pyrrha). Not to mention the way trying to be the perfect Huntress that Summer was has been affecting Ruby over the years.

Also, definitely totally unrelated to all of the above: I think paragons that turn to evil despite or indeed because of all their wonderful paragon qualities FUCK SEVERELY and I would like to see it.

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON THREE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

Lines taken from s03e09 - s03-e12 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part one.

❛ It's like there was an imbalance in the world, and we righted it, with our own hands. ❜

❛ I feel real. Like, maybe for the first time in my life. ❜

❛ If I knew where [name] was, I'd tell you. ❜

❛ All right, all right, you're right. I know where he is. I can show you. ❜

❛ You don't have to keep on checking on me. ❜

❛ He's held life and death in his hands. He likes it. ❜

❛ So how do I crack this sick fuck's brain? ❜

❛ I am not having a goddamn affair, okay? ❜

❛ I just needed space. I've got everything falling apart around me now. ❜

❛ You keep going off half-cocked. How am I supposed to trust you? ❜

❛ I didn't tell you because I know you wouldn't approve. ❜

❛ Whatever happened to serving justice? ❜

❛ I should have told you. It was a chickenshit thing to do, and I abused your trust. ❜

❛ Look. I'm a big boy. I know what I'm doing. Eventually, you're gonna trust that too. ❜

❛ He thinks he's untouchable. He's not. It's time he learned that. ❜

❛ For you, I'll do everything in my power. ❜

❛ Too many people are affected when the innocent die. ❜

❛ I'd be a fool not to follow your lead. I think you're gonna save my life. ❜

❛ I have to go look at some blood. Evidence. For a crime. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. We didn't mean to get your family caught up in this, all right? ❜

❛ What can you do? Nothing! ❜

❛ You gotta help me, or I can't do anything to help you. ❜

❛ It's me. It's okay. You're safe. ❜

❛ You found me. ❜

❛ I can't go home. There's too much silence. ❜

❛ He's been using me the whole time. ❜

❛ I'm responsible if [name] takes another innocent life. ❜

❛ I think we should just stay out of it. ❜

❛ They're gonna think that we slept together! ❜

❛ I mean, if my show does not make people vomit and have an erection at the same time, then I've let my audience down. ❜

❛ Hey, I'm not giving up on our friendship. ❜

❛ For someone so innocent, he sure looks guilty. ❜

❛ I am indeed a good friend to have. And one can never have too many friends, right? ❜

❛ I feel like Cinderella. Except for the whole Disney virgin thing. ❜

❛ Oh, don't worry. No one'll know Prince Charming knocked ya up before the ball. ❜

❛ You're sorry? Well, you can take your sorry and shove it up your ass! ❜

❛ Hey, I just wanted to say, I never meant for any of this to go down the way it did, you know? ❜

❛ I messed up. I wanted to apologize to your face. ❜

❛ You lying son of a bitch! You almost got me killed! ❜

❛ I am not the enemy here. ❜

❛ You feel guilty? You feel responsible for what happened to me? ❜

❛ Shit. You're bleeding. You're gonna need new stitches. ❜

❛ I need for you to seriously think about this. Think about us. ❜

❛ Wine... invented for the sole purpose of handling grief. Believe me, I know. ❜

❛ You've always been important to me. You know that. ❜

❛ Please don't hate me, but I may have done a bad thing. ❜

❛ You are too good a liar. ❜

❛ I don't know when you're telling the truth anymore. ❜

❛ Cause after all... familia is sacred. ❜

❛ I know what it is to want to rebalance an unbalanced world. ❜

❛ Some doors should stay shut. You open it, it's too easy to walk through it a second time. ❜

❛ Well, at least I didn't teach him how to get away with murder. I'm learning. ❜

❛ God. You are useless. Love you anyway. ❜

❛ I didn't get to where I am, who I am, by letting some little worm like you walk all over me! ❜

❛ I am the last person you wanna fuck with, because I will fuck you back in ways you never even imagined! ❜

❛ Wow. I didn't get it before, but you can't be reasoned with, guilted, or controlled. ❜

❛ I'll do what I want, when I want, to whomever I want! Count on it! ❜

❛ My search for connection always ends in blood. ❜

❛ As challenging as it will be, it's back to option one. I kill him. ❜

❛ So this is how it ends. I've pictured it a thousand ways, but never this. ❜

❛ Must be what your victims feel like. Trapped, hopeless. ❜

❛ You got any more words of encouragement, or are you just here to gloat? ❜

❛ I should have fucking killed [name] when I had the chance. ❜

❛ That's fucking hilarious! You were freaked, right? ❜

❛ For a smart guy, sometimes he doesn't have the good sense that God gave little chickens. ❜

❛ A true friend knows when to bury the hatchet, because friendship is a sacred bond, built on trust. ❜

❛ I have learned so much from you about, uh... trust. ❜

❛ Things are bound to go wrong. The less left to chance the better. ❜

❛ You always look so happy to see me. ❜

❛ Getting married's easy. All you have to do is show up. ❜

❛ I need to be with somebody who's got his shit together. ❜

❛ You're the only one he trusts. ❜

❛ Well, it's really hard to find people that you trust these days. ❜

❛ I could hear it, you know? The sound of the blade cutting into me. That and, uh... the sound of me screaming. Like it was somebody else. And I remember thinking, "That guy screaming...he's gonna die." ❜

❛ If home is where the heart is, where do you go when you don't have a heart? ❜

❛ So why is it every time I look at you, I still feel the same way I felt when we first met? ❜

❛ They make a cute couple. Too bad they're both lying through their teeth. ❜

❛ And this is, "Do as I say, not as I do"? ❜

❛ If you need something under the table, I'm your guy. That didn't come out right. ❜

❛ So, now you know. Question is, what are you gonna do? ❜

❛ I need your word this stays between us. ❜

❛ Yes, whenever you have an earth-shattering, ball-crushing, mind-fuck of a secret, you should tell your fucking sister. ❜

❛ You're the hardest-working person I know, you're loyal to a fault. In all the years I've known you, you've never let me down. ❜

❛ I know I crossed the line here. I know that now. It doesn't have to come to this. ❜

❛ I had higher hopes for you, for us. But I finally just have to accept it, I'll always be alone. ❜

❛ I tried. I tried to crack that damn armor of yours. ❜

❛ I know you better than anyone else. ❜

❛ I know I'm a monster. ❜

❛ I accept you, like a brother. ❜

❛ I didn't plan to, but it was kill or be killed. ❜

❛ You little freak! You think I'm done with you? You think this ends here? It doesn't! ❜

❛ There are few milestones in life that evoke a stronger response than our final act. Death. ❜

❛ We all react in different ways to death. Some choose anger. Others cling to ritual. ❜

❛ You can tell a lot about a person by the friends he keeps. ❜

❛ That was awkward. I don't think I've ever been asked to leave a funeral before. ❜

❛ You lost a friend. You don't have to be so strong. ❜

❛ [name] warned you that his death wasn't gonna be the end of things. ❜

❛ Can't kill him. Can't ignore him. ❜

❛ You know, Dad would be proud. That still means something, no matter how flawed he was. ❜

❛ Well, then tell me. How am I supposed to live with this? ❜

❛ I'm the only one that knows, I think. It's not even that big of a deal. ❜

❛ We all have secrets we prefer not to share. Skeletons. Feel free to keep yours in the closet. Deep in the closet. ❜

❛ Look, these people have nothing to do with this. This is between you and me, right? ❜

❛ I should put a bullet in your head. In front of everybody. So they can see what it's like to lose someone. ❜

❛ So you don't really have to bother with reality. That must be nice. ❜

❛ Until you came into our life, everything was fine. ❜

❛ I spent my whole life trying to hold it together, and now it's all gone to shit. ❜

❛ Someday your kids will be old enough to see the truth for themselves, just like you did with your father. ❜

❛ The sins of the father go on and on, from kid to kid to kid, unless someone - you - chooses to end them. ❜

❛ There is no possible way that us being together is a mistake. ❜

❛ You hold on to that personal life. Reminds us what's important. ❜

❛ I've been scared of it coming to this your whole life, a violent end. I tried to protect you. ❜

❛ This is my fault for not trusting you. ❜

❛ You did the best you could. ❜

❛ I've never seen you cry before. ❜

❛ I've never wanted anything so much in my life. ❜

❛ You are the best thing that has happened to me. ❜

❛ I had a choice. I chose you. Your turn. ❜

❛ Oh, I have my excuses and justifications, but, really, I just... need to. ❜

❛ So really, you're just a killer, a monster. The stuff of nightmares. ❜

❛ A wolf would chew off its own paw, its survival instinct is that fierce. So is mine. ❜

❛ We all have secrets. In that way, I'm just like everyone else. ❜

❛ All my previous attempts at human connection have ended in... well, death. ❜

❛ Sure, I'm still who I was, who I am. Question is, what do I become? ❜

❛ Right now, at this moment, I'm content. Maybe even happy. And I have to admit, when all is said and done... life is good. ❜

[we-ask-beforewe-bite]

Disciple Z'rell: Here, in the seat of the Absolute's power, your authority over them is complete. They will obey any command. Report to me upstairs when you're done. Fezzerk: Please - you gotta help me. For old times' sake? Elijah: BEG! CHOKE! DIE! Fezzerk: Please - help me. Lae'zel: I do enjoy a bit of casual bloodshed. Now come - I'd like to know more about this Z'rell.

[ Full transcript ⇩ ]

Nightwarden Minthara: I will not be slandered! General, you saw my reports - you know it's not my fault. Disciple Z'rell: The facts suggest otherwise. You were ordered to retrieve the artefact - you failed to do so. Nightwarden Minthara: If I had been given drow warriors instead of goblin trash - Drenn: Oi, what?! Fezzerk: You scrag! Disciple Z'rell: Enough! Narrator: A blast of mental energy washes over you, filling the room. Your tadpole squirms, urging you to obey. Disciple Z'rell: Let me make sure I understand this - you're claiming that General Thorm gave you the wrong soldiers? Nightwarden Minthara: Yes - no! Disciple Z'rell: You blame the Absolute's Chosen for your failure? Nightwarden Minthara: Of course it is not the General's fault - Disciple Z'rell: Whose then? Elijah: Stay silent, simply watching. Nightwarden Minthara: The goblins! They failed me. They failed us all. Drenn: You lyin' little - Disciple Z'rell: And what would you do to those that have failed you? Nightwarden Minthara: They are put to death, obviously. Ketheric Thorm: True, ultimate failure must earn ultimate punishment. Nighhwarden Minthara, your crime is incompetence and your sentence is death. Nightwarden Minthara: NO! Ketheric Thorm: Make her passing slow, Disciple Z'rell. Be creative. Elijah: I could make it much more creative. As a torturer I am unmatched. Narrator: As the General's attention shifts to you, a memory stirs - a memory of this room, and his voice raised in anger. Ketheric Thorm: I'm surprised to see you again, True Soul. You are here to assist and not to meddle I trust. I would remind you that while in my halls, you obey me - just as you would any other Chosen. What say you about our Minthara? It is fitting that one mad dog should judge another. Elijah: You know me? You know of my madness? Ketheric Thorm: Better than you know yourself, it seems. But we are here to speak of Minthara, not you. Elijah: She's not lying - she served the Absolute faithfully. Ketheric Thorm: A pity, then, that her faith was so inadequate. Take her below. Nightwarden Minthara: No. Please., mercy! Please! Drenn: Ha! Bye-bye, princess. Ketheric Thorm: Kill the goblins too. Fezzerk: What? No! Drenn: You creaking old bag of shit! Disciple Z'rell: I'm sorry, my lord. She's an unbeliever - outside my control. Ketheric Thorm: Try again. Huh. Drenn: No - NO! Ketheric Thorm: Dispose of the rest as you see fit. Or better yet - let us take advantage of our surprising guest, and their particular creative genius. I'm sure the results will send a clear message to the troops on the importance of discipline. Disciple Z'rell: Of course, my lord. Thank you. You heard the General. The goblins are yours - deal with them however you wish. Elijah: Contain your excitement. Disciple Z'rell: Here, in the seat of the Absolute's power, your authority over them is complete. They will obey any command. Report to me upstairs when you're done. Fezzerk: Please - you gotta help me. For old times' sake? Elijah: BEG! CHOKE! DIE! Fezzerk: Please - help me. Lae'zel: I do enjoy a bit of casual bloodshed. Now come - I'd like to know more about this Z'rell. Narrator: In another lifetime, you were greeted in this throne room like a God, not the living wreck you are now. Your disgrace has something to do with this Ketheric. You yearn to flay him until he forgets himself, as you have. Elijah: Indulge in your thoughts of lacerating him. Narrator: He healed up a treat - he could enjoy your cuts forever and a day.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

What happenes if/when allura shiro and lance meet in the shrödinger reality au? Theres do many ways this meeting could go wrong..........

Also shiro having a brother in this au is such an interesting plot point.. Shiro is slowly descending into madness by his memories halucinations and stuffing severed limbs into potted plants pots and kuro is like 'im so glad my brother has a new hobby:) hes been so passionate about gardening recently! I wonder what fertilizer is he using to make them grow this well.. also why is the floor do slippery nowadays'

and the answer turns out to be maybe-propably-not-real severed body parts

The way i see it (and i am basing this on vibes), that they didnt even notice or remembered. The way Lance's Thing works is that he 1) goes usually unnoticed, like pebbles on a road 2) even if you notice him, or talk to him, or he talks to you as long as you are not the one he's targetting (which rarely ever happens) they dont usually 'recognize' him. It is like how some animals dont recognize their own reflection, maybe some people would feel off about him, some people would be curious about him and some people would be able to notice and remember him (like that one doctor) but ultimately they wont be able to pinpoint what exactly is wrong just a constant feeling of wrongness. 3) they usually wont remember him. They might feel like they are forgetting something, or something is missing but usually they will forget about him.

However again the pebbles on road metaphor applies here. If you dont notice him, you just dont notice him, if you had one passing glance, you'll forget about him instantly, if you noticed him, talked to him, examined him, you are more likely to notice some details meaning you would realize that Something is Wrong, meaning you will remember him for a bit longer.

Which is how i feel Lance's first meeting with Shiro and Allura is going to go. They wont notice him, or recognize him, or remember him. I imagine there's some serial killer case both Allura and Shiro got dragged into with Allura was a witness (she was trying to understand wth us going on and trying to understand this world and oh shit that person just attacked someone) and Shiro kinda being a suspect cause he's being odd according to his friends, and Lance who has decided that he can do a better detective job than the cops (and he's 100% right) and also he thinks said serial killer is the one who 'killed' him. They do meet Lance and because they do remember or have dreamt Lance from their vld timeline, they are able to notice something is off about that guy, but they lose track of him and they kinda forget about him but do keep getting this nagging feeling that they forgot something important

Allura and Shiro do not get along at first. Allura who remembers Everything is like "Shiro? Shiro! Shiro it is you!! It's me Allura!! Oh thank voltron and guardian i found you this world is so strange and a total fake" and Shiro who has been trying to suppress his dreams for past few months is like- "Who tf are you??? I dont know who are you or what this voltron is but please stay away from me" (<=lying). And like Allura who was so desperate to have traces of her old life back, started to pretty much like trying to reach out to him (aka pester him). Eventually Allura is able to convince him that, yeah she indeed is both girl in his dreams but also real and Real af, and while he does Not believe her, he is also just so tired of the paranormal bs he is dealing with and if this Weird stalker lady can help him than on god he's taking that help.

And yep (in my mind his brother is Kuron) and while he doesnt show it, he is Very worried about Shiro. He reasons that he is just coping with his accident and dealing with loss of his arm and dream job and the Trauma™ (and technically he isnt wrong) but he can also tell this is something beyond That. However he has decided that he'll give Shiro space, let him come to him on his own, be supportive and strong and smiley for him. But yeah he's glad that Shiro is getting into a new hobbies, even if he is too into it sometimes.

[littlemisssquiggles]

So...about the EIGHTH episode of RWBY Volume 9...

I...have no words for this episode. No really y'all this episode left me speechless

I'm gonna need a week to process all the reveals that happened in this episode.

I think the part that resonated with me the most is the part that some of y'all probably expected to impact me the most. You already know what it is…

It's the part where Illusion Ozpin is beating the shit out of Ruby with the Long Memory, screaming at her that she isn't cut out to save anyone. I like the visual irony of Oz being to one to tell Ruby she’s unfit to be the hero when it was Oz who chose Ruby in the first place.

Anyways, Ruby retaliates by slashing at Oz with Crescent Rose. But when Ruby looks up, it isn't Oz she finds standing before her anymore.

It's Oscar.

Of all the things that I was expecting to see, Ruby essentially killing an Illusion Oscar was not one of em. Not lying to tell ya’ll, that part took me out. I actually gasped at this part.

But from my initial shock at seeing this scene came a big realization. Of all the people that Neo could have shown Ruby killing on accident, why show her Oscar?

I mean yes it makes sense given that it was Ozpin who was beating Ruby before and Oscar is Ozpin’s successor. However, for me, why I find this part most interesting is that it highlighted to me the significance of Oscar’s presense in Ruby’s life. What he means to her.

One of Ruby's fears is the thought of failing Oscar too. We saw how she reacted to failing Penny and being reminded that she failed her twice over.

Ruby is afraid that she could one day potentially fail to protect Oscar as well, just how she failed Penny...and Pyrhha...and everyone else.

I find this part to be most significant. And no this is NOT my shipping heart talking here. I just find it interesting that Oscar dying is used as one of the main pieces used by Neo to cause Ruby to reach her breaking point.

If I ever needed a sign that Oscar is important to Ruby from this volume then this was it. Perhaps not in a "romantic sense" but Oscar IS important to Ruby. He is someone she doesn't want to fail.

I can say more but overall this episode just left me floored. And of course, the final part where Ruby essentially committed suicide.

She drank the tea made from the leaves of the Tree and essentially erased herself from existence.

And then there is Neo. She finally got what she wanted. She wanted Ruby to die and pushed her to "kill" herself. And after breaking Ruby and bringing her to that point, Neo breaking Ruby essentially caused her to break as well.

And there comes the big reveal.

When I said before that I was hoping the Curious Cat would become a part of Ruby...this was NOT how I envisioned it to be.

I did not expect the Cat to be a villain.

That part stung man! This entire time I was rooting for the Cat to be an ally.

I JOKED about the Cat being like Kyuubei from Madoka and look what happened in this episode.

I can't believe that the Cat is the villain! I cannot believe it!

And of course, Little getting killed by Neo and used to cause Ruby to reach her final breaking point---again, another thing that I called in a previous post and look what happened in this episode!

All in all, this episode was ALOT to take in and I'm still taking it all in.

And let's not forget about the main theme to take out of this episode---this entire time, Ruby has been battling with the depression and what can essentially be presumed as "suicidal thoughts".

Thinking that she doesn't want to be herself anymore. Thinking that the world and everyone else in her life would be better off without her existing and then the final nail before her choosing to essentially kill herself.

Ruby killed herself ya'll.

Call it what it is in terms of the theme. We just watched our main protagonist committ suicide.

Now obviously I have no doubt in my mind that Ruby is going to be alright in the end. From the shot of her being swallowed by the tree, Little also fell with her as well.

I feel like this could lead into Ruby being resurrected through Little. Like Little's purpose being revealed that they were meant to help Ruby come back and fix her or something like that.

That's my hunch for now.

Beyond that, I think I'm done talking about this episode for now.

Do I think this episode was a good episode? Oooh I would go as far as to say this episode was the best of this season so far. There is just so much to unpack from it.

At this point, we are 2 more episodes away from the season finale of V9. Where it goes from here, I don't know. For now, I'm gonna go lie down and process this episode a bit more.

~LMS (2023)