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ornii · 1 year ago

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|| My Kind of Crazy ||

Harley Quinn X Male Reader

So after Binge Watching Barbie, rewatching Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), don’t forget that part, and The Suicide Squad, my appreciation For Morgot Robbie has increased more than it already has. Adore her. So, here’s part one of ?

(Any Tags I forgot please let me know.)

The Stench of rotting carpet, old wood and the tinge of blood was in the air. But this was all a part of the plan. Inside that old decrepit apartment you had your pistol Aimed at a man standing before you, Batman. Yes, The, Batman. A series of choices lead to this moment, but it wasn’t always like this. You were his Robin, his Boy wonder. Now you’re the shadow hiding within Gotham. Your foot was placed on the chest of another man, who’s cold and chilling laugher echoes though the room, Joker. It was on this same day, that you were Abducted; tortured, and subsequently Killed by the Very man. A Trip in the Lazuras pit changed you for the worst. But to your surprise after your revival, Joker was still alive, and Batman hadn’t sunk revenge for your murder, and all you could ask was…

“Why?” You as under your Helmet.. “Why him?” You said, Batman was stoic, silent.

“Who are you..?” He grumbles, his voice modulated to avoid detection, “You don’t know? I’m hurt.” You say with much sarcasm, you grip your helmet and tear it off, showing your face to Batman, even with the small J scar under your eye, it’s obvious who you were. Out of all the people he thought, he never expected his old Sidekick..

To be under the Red Hood.

Jokers eyes lock with the scar and he laughs much harder.

“Wow, now THAT, is funny!” He has his grilled toothy grin, and you placed your foot higher right on his throat. The wheezing laughter continues slowly.

“You don’t get to talk.” You growl at him, and then turnt your attention back to Batman.

“You know, I forgive you for not saving me, you can’t save everyone. But why, why is HE still alive?!” You scream, the rage and trauma building up in you finally. “After everything he’s done, he’s crippled, broken, murdered people! Why, why is he still here?!”

“You don’t understand… you never understood.” He said to you, and you scoff.

“What? That you can’t do it? That you don’t have the spine to! It’s too hard isn’t it?” You ask, Bruce shakes his head.

“No, I know it’s easy, he deserves to die a thousand times over, but if I killed him, i wouldn’t stop myself… I’d justify it, then I’d justify killing someone else, and it’ll keep going.. and I’ll sink further, and further into the dark.” Bruce said, you shook your head.

“You can’t control yourself… I’m not talking about Dent, or Penguin, Even Harley!” You toss the gun, Bruce instinctively catches it but, obviously isn’t capable of holding a gun.

“Do it, shoot him. Kill one, and save millions of lives… you’re the Batman right! You save people, don’t you? So save them! And kill him!” You demand, Bruce stares at you, both of you unwavering in your convictions. But he simply dropped the gun.

“No… I’m sorry, (Y/n).” He said in a solemn whisper.

“Fine!” You yell, revealing one last trick up your sleeve. an explosive set in the entire apartment block, revealing the dead man’s switch in your other hand. Joker laughs as he looks around it all beeping. He turns to Batman, and just smiles

“You, you found a way to win! But to lose everything! AHAHAHAHAHA—“ he laughs, reveling in the chaos as you let go of the switch, Batman made a choice, and now all three of you had to live with it, and in a flash, an explosion, it all faded to black for you.

You’ve been playing that in your mind for the past year you’ve been in Belle Reeve. Sitting in your orange room, captive. The 4x4 room kept you isolated, only for a bang at the door.

“Inmate. You’ve got a visitor! Stand up, face the wall.” He yells, you weren’t keen to listen to others. You stood up, facing the door, cracking your neck.

“Any of your men step in, I’m sending ten of them to the ICU.” You said, very calmly, the door opens and they rush in, training with the Batman made fighting multiple enemies a breeze, punches, kicks and knees flew all though the room as you delivered counters, combos and ruthless tactics. But all fun even came at an end as you were apprehended and locked into a chair. Struggling like a dog you strained to get out, you were wheels around Belle Reeve as you see eleven stretchers head to your cell.

“Told you..” you mutter, struggling in the binds. Being wheeled into an interrogation room, you kept your lips purse until you saw your visitor, she wore a women’s suit and skirt, her eyes deep brown like mud drowning you in muck. Amanda Waller. You looked around and saw that the room was being monitored by a single camera. She gave one officer the nod and he presses a button, the red light on the camera fades off.

“You’re not as scary as I expected.” She said, holding a file she sat down across from you. You knew about Waller, working with the Batman gave you some intel on contacts. And she was the nastiest one of all.

“Waller?” You ask.

“In the flesh.” She responded and opened your file, reading it off.

“(Y/n) Todd, Father was a factory worker, died due to Gang related activity. Mother was an addict, died years ago, leaving you alone, but you see.. that’s where it ends, as if you faded off the planet of the earth. Until you resurface a year later.” She said, all of that was true.

“What’s your point?” You ask. And she reads off another page.

“Peak Physical fitness, durability, speed, Agility, Strenght. Master Of Arms and a Genius level intellect… you are a dangerous and powerful individual, so I’m offering you a chance to cut your sentence down..” she offers

“You’re bluffing..” you struggle in the binds more, but Waller keeps her dead stare.

“Do I look like I’m bluffing?” She said, you stop and she looks you in the eye. “you complete your task, you get years off your sentence, you fail.. you die. Fairly simple.” She said, a million thoughts raced though your mind, but one did.

“Get out, Find Joker.. Kill, Joker.”

“…Im in.” You said, Waller takes her file and closes it. “Good, get his bomb in and relay with the others.” She says, your attitude shifts pretty quickly, “bomb?” You ask, “What do you mean bomb?!” You yell, but nobody said anything, being wheeled away you were held down by officers and a needle injected right into the base of your skull. Granted it wasn’t the worse thing that’s been done to you, still hurt. Finally reaching the breaking point you were wheeled outside, the sun finally hitting your skin and you found yourself surrounded by soldiers, many wounded, others preparing for what seems to be a war.

You turn your head left to spot someone you know too well, Deadshot. Seems he was also canned to Belle Reeve, and to your left was a woman you knew too well, Harley Quinn, also a prisoner. Your blood began to boil even more than before and you were ready to throttle her, but with all these soldiers here, you doubt you’d be able to do it without getting filled with lead. So you bid your time as any Hunter would. A Soldier approached them, and looked them up and down.

“Unlock 'em.” He orders, the soldiers obliged and your restraints are removed, you sit up from yoyr bindings and look further down your line. You even spot Killer Croc, in all his, Lizardy goodness. Harley Stretches and keeps her off putting smile. Closest to Harley was a man adorned with Tattoos, ElDiablo was his name, you heard a few reports about him from Batman.

“Mmm! Hi, boys! Harley Quinn. How do you do?” She said, obviously no one said anything. It was dead silence until she looks around. “Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and escape? Sorry. It's the voices…” she said, but laughs, “I'm kidding! Jeez!…That's not what they really said.”

The soldiers aren’t done assembling their Squad, more soldiers drag over a sack that’s fighting pretty furiously.

“What do we got here? Twelve pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack. Welcome to the party, Captain Boomerang.” He watches them cut it open, Captain immediately swings on the first person he sees. The Soldiers pin him to a wall.

“Hey, what's going on, man? Hey, one minute I'm playing Mahjong with me nanna, then this red streak hits me outta nowhere.” Boomerang pleads.

“Shut up! You were caught robbing a diamond exchange.”

“I was not!”

He Totally Was.

There was one last member, Slipknot, the man who could climb anything, which was an odd ability set, it nonetheless he was here. The man before them all was Colonel Rick Flag.

“Listen up! In your necks, injection you got, it's a nanite explosive. It's the size of a rice grain, but it's powerful as a hand grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, and guess what? You die.” He says, which throws a wrench in your plans to escape, Harley obnoxiously puts her hand up.

“I'm known to be quite vexing. I'm just forewarning you.”

“Lady, shut up!” Flag yells, and then composed himself, “This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad, to do something that'll get you killed. But until that happens, - you're my problem.” He explains, Deadshot looks him up and down.

“Mmm. So was that like a, uh, pep talk?” He asks.

“Yeah. That was a pep talk. There's your shit. Grab what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in 10.” He said, crates of gear was brought in for you and your “Teammates.”

“You might wanna work on your team motivation thing. You heard of Phil Jackson? He's like the gold standard, okay? Triangle, bitch. Study.” Deadshot, with those very inspiring words to flag suits up with everyone. You open your crate to see the old gear you had, still in damn good condition, and you suit up, Your body armor and jacket lined with shuriken, explosives and throwing knives, a combat knife strapped to your leg. Twin M1911 Dual Handguns, mint condition. And your helmet, still holding one scar on it, you take the helmet out of its case and stare at it. Your eyes waver for a moment to your other teammates, everyone seems to have some dumb gimmick, but your eyes dressed down Harley, not by your choice of course, you’ve been cramped in a hole for nearly a year, and the first woman you see was stripping down in front of you. An urge came over you and you knew exactly what it was, she finally gets her shirt on and sees almost every guy staring.

“What?” She said, they all quickly go back to doing what they were supposed to do, you as well, pushing those feelings down. You keep looking at your mask, Deadshot does the same thing with his.

“What? Won't fit anymore? Too much junk in the trunk?” Harley said to him.

“Nah. Every time I put this on, somebody dies.” He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t that.. this wouldn’t be a normal contracts

“And?” Harley said.

“I like putting it on.” He admits, she smirks and grabs her mallet, “Goody. Somethin' tells me a whole lotta people are about to die!” She sounds so giddy.

“Yeah. It's us. We're being led to our deaths.” Diablo said.

“I don’t plan on it.” You said, looking down the barrels of one of your 1911’s.

“You know something we don’t Mate?” Boomerang asks, “No.” You reply. “I just don’t plan on dying again.” You mutter.

“What you a zombie or something?” Deadshot looks unimpressed. “Something like that… point is; Been dead, done that… I plan on getting out of here..” you say, and turn to Harley.

“I’ve got business to take care of.” You made your claim pretty obvious but it didn’t matter to you, escape is the only plan, and getting this explosive disabled. “You don’t seem to giddy like these guys..” you ask El Diablo, “I’m not here to hurt anyone man.” He said. Deadshot was the first to let them all know.

“Y'all might wanna leave old boy alone. He could torch this whole joint. Ain't that right, ese?” He looks at Diablo, who calmly shows his hands, flames emitting from them, but low ones:

“Ain't got nothing to worry about from me. I'm cool, homie.” He says, Flag returns to them, holding a tablet with Amanda on screen.

“Behold the voice of God.” He said, and she gives them the rundown. “For those of you who don't know me officially, my name is Amanda Waller. There's an active terrorist event in Midway City. I want you to enter the city, rescue HVT-1, and get them to safety.” She orders.

“I'm sorry. Uh... For those of us who don't speak good guy, what is HVT-1?” Deadshot asks.

“HVT.. High Value Target.” You say, “It’s like a bounty, Basically a rescue mission.” You explain, Deadshot nods, admitting you made it sound much less cool. “The only person that matters in the city, the one person you can't kill. Complete the mission, you get time off your prison sentence. Fail the mission, you die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag, I'll kill every single one of you. Remember, I'm watching. I see everything.” Waller ends the communication and Flag turns to Deadshot

There's your pep talk.”

“Compared to your shit, she killed it. So that's it? What, we some kind of Suicide Squad?” He asks, Flag ignores his question and leaves.

“I'll notify your next of kin. Alpha, Bravo team. Mount up!” He orders, you look around to the team you’ll be forced to work with. All of them, criminals in their own right, but for now they’re the thing between success, or all of you dying painful deaths. You put on your helmet and the detective mode still works, turning it off. You load your guns and walk to the helicopter.

Task Force X, has been activated.

#male reader #harley quinn #harley quinzel #harley x reader #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x male reader #suicide squad #dc #dc comics #Ornii #angst #we simp

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ninibeingdelulu · 6 months ago

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"Nothing matters if you're not by my side"

plot- a snowball fight with Kaiser CLICK ME

The backyard was a pristine blanket of untouched white as far as the eye could see. Overnight, a thick layer of powdery snow had coated every surface in dreamy, muffled tranquility.

It was the kind of sparkling winter scene that just demanded to be disturbed and christened properly.

That's why Michael shouldn't have been surprised when you came bounding into the living room bright and early, eyes alight with childlike excitement as you tugged on his sleeve.

"Mikka Mikka, come look outside - isn't it perfect for a snowball fight? Please, let's go play!"

He couldn't fight the indulgent chuckle rumbling up from his chest at your enthusiasm.

Despite being one of the world's most renowned young soccer prodigies, Michael was still just a besotted boyfriend at heart when it came to you.

Denying you anything that brought that radiant smile to your face was simply impossible.

"You know I can never resist that pouty lip when you stick it out like that," he teased, leaning down to playfully nip at your protruding lower lip with his own.

Chuckling at your squeal of delight, Michael scooped you up into a snug embrace.

"Alright, alright - you win, troublemaker. But you'd better be prepared for the battle of your life once we're out there!"

You were already squealing with glee and wiggling free from his arms, scrambling to tug on heavy winter gear.

Michael just shook his head with a bemused grin and followed at a more laidback pace. He could pretend to be a fearsome opponent, but your sunny exuberance was more irresistible to him than any force in nature.

Soon enough, you'd both tumbled outside into the winter wonderland together.

Michael had barely stamped his snow boots down before the first salvo came whizzing by - a tightly packed sphere of snow pinging off his shoulder with impressive accuracy.

"Gotcha!" You were already dancing away on nimble feet, stooping to quickly gather more ammunition while cackling madly.

"En garde, Mr. Superstar! Prepare to face the ultimate cold wrath!"

Lips twitching in amusement, Michael acted quickly to hastily construct a defensive barrier while your barrage intensified.

You were relentless, cheeks already tinged rosy from the chill as you bobbed and weaved with impish zeal.

Lighthearted jeers and teasing taunts merged with the sounds of quickly sculpted projectiles thudding in every direction.

Before long, peals of unrestrained laughter and wheezing breaths mingled in the crisp air. Michael was astonished by how quickly the fearsome soccer machine had melted away - leaving behind just an utterly smitten young man gleefully scrambling through the snow with his best girl by his side.

More than anything, he cherished how naturally these carefree moments seemed to bloom anymore when he was with you.

He was so lost in thought that the next icy missile caught him completely off-guard, shattering in an icy explosion right across his face and chest.

You froze, immediately clapping hands over your mouth in dismay...right until Michael's shocked expression melted into a full-bodied bellow of mirth.

"Oh, you're gonna regret it!" he crowed, already forging another ammo stockpile while stomping towards you with booming guffaws.

You just squealed in delight and turned to flee, still abundantly giggling as well. But Michael's longer strides had him closing the distance rapidly.

The next thing you knew, his arms were banding around your waist from behind in an inescapable bear hug.

Your shrieks of helpless laughter intensified as he simply lifted you clean off your feet, swinging you up and over in a graceful arc.

Then, suddenly, there was nothing but soft and weightless suspension in midair - just long enough for your startled gaze to meet his adoring one.

Michael's eyes crinkled at the corners with pure contentment just drinking in the brilliance of your joy and startled expression...right before you both came crashing back down in a tangle of limbs cushioned by that forgiving pillowy expanse of snow.

There was a beat of stunned stillness where neither of you could do anything but gaze at each other in hazy wonder through the clinging powdery veil.

Slowly, Michael shifted to brace his weight on his elbows, caging your disheveled form beneath him as loose snow clumps tumbled from both your bodies.

Tenderly, he reached out to brush away more stray flakes clinging to your wind-tousled hair, his thumb tracing the arch of your flushed cheeks with unbridled affection.

You were all aglow, sparkling and effervescent and impossibly beautiful in that moment.

Michael's breath caught in his throat with the sudden realization of how lucky he truly was.

That out of everyone in the world, he alone got to have moments like this with you.

These priceless intimacies and flashes of unfiltered, untempered bliss brought into his life by the one person who'd disarmed his defenses so effortlessly.

A brilliant future and career in soccer awaited him, of that Michael was certain...but all the fame and glory in the world would be hollow without these tiny interludes of perfection with you alongside him.

His safe harbor in the storm. His beacon of radiant joy to look forward to amidst all the pressure and responsibilities threatening to overwhelm him at times.

Helpless adoration and gratitude swelled within Michael's chest like a tidal force as you simply gazed up at him - small crystalline snowflakes clinging to your ruddy cheeks and the dark fan of your lashes.

An ethereal winter sprite incarnate, created for the sole purpose of reminding him about everything else that truly mattered beyond the pitch.

"...Hey," he rumbled at last, voice slightly husky with profound emotion.

One calloused hand came up to cradle your face with infinite tenderness - no longer the touch of a soccer prodigy but simply a young man utterly besotted.

"I love you. So much. Thanks for always making me remember how to be human, snowflake."

And when that sunburst smile broke out across your radiant features again, Michael swore he'd just been handed the entire world and more.

Right there, bundled up together amongst the pristine snow drifts in your own private paradise, their sacred little pocket of bliss and belonging.

He dipped his head without hesitation to capture your lips in a searing, lingering kiss.

One gloved hand buried into the snowbank by your tangled tresses to anchor you flush against him, savoring the faint chill and woodsmoke taste of your mouth. A sensation he could quite happily spend the rest of eternity drowning within forever.

Because this - tangled up in your arms amid nature's most exquisite wintry grandeur, savoring the sublime beauty of your limitless spirit joining with his own - was what real life and living was all about at the end of the day.

Soccer, fame, glory...it all paled in comparison.

And with you as his eternal muse and ethereal inspiration, Michael knew this rapturous joy would only keep blossoming and growing more infinite for both of them with each year that followed. An endless snowdrift of perfect moments yet to come.

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signanothername · 3 months ago

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So, I know you've admitted to never reading For the Forgotten Ones, but I will note it has some very fanon Nightmare + MTT. And, so, it made me wonder;

the concept is just Ink being stopping from destroying his own SOUL by Nightmare, who takes him in. Ink ends up as a healer, before eventually discovering that he's Protector of Creation. Loosest way to describe the plot as possible. Could go more in detail if you'd ever like. BUT BACK TO THE THING I WAS WONDERING!!!!!!!!

How would that go with your version of Nightmare and the gang? With Nightmare finding the small, skeleton (small enough to be a kid), who has almost no knowledge of how the word works, and stubbornly refuses to ever fight or hurt or destroy, to the point he learns green magic, and barely anything else (he only learns his own magic aside from green), and Ink wants them all to be okay at the end of the day. How would that go with him? Even more so, what about MTT? In the story, Horror's the most chill with Ink, they're vibing. Dust/Murder is kinda vibing with Ink, arguably the two closest to Ink in the beginning. Killer is.....it takes a good minute for him to warm up to this one(Will say, at some point Ink falls into another AU o accident when opening a portal for the first time, nearly dies, is soaking wet ad scared, and he's given one of MTT's jackets, AND IT GOES DOWN TO HIS KNEES, I NEED YOU TO PICTURE THIS PLEASE....it was Killer's). By the end they're found family, but I really love your version of everyone, and I started rereading ftfo, when I wondered how different this could be if it were a DIFFERENT multiverse, a.k.a., your iteration?

Oh it’s definitely extremely different chhchc

I’m sorry to say that my multiverse isn’t much of a merciful one hchchchchc (I wouldn’t say my multiverse is a sad one, but it’s certainly a bittersweet one)

Biggest difference? Nightmare won’t even think of getting Ink under him or get him inside his castle to begin with

To Nightmare, That’s just another random Sans in this vastly wide multiverse, he already got 3, he doesn’t need another, sure, the circumstances of this particular Sans are interesting to say the least, but by that point, there’s nothing Ink could offer Nightmare at all except for his misery and negativity, but again, he already got 3 negativity meals that continuously feed him anyway, and this entire place is nothing but white void, so Nightmare has nothing interesting to be offered, there is literally no reason Nightmare would feel like he needs to change his routine to include a random skeleton who’s best they ever done is sit down and sulk

And hey, if being in this white void makes them miserable then who’s Nightmare to stop them from being miserable? :)

He’ll come in, take one look at them and their Au, get out, simple as that, and even if this random Sans had something to offer, Nightmare would simply settle for making a deal and leaving them there (no open positions for another member in his gang)

So basically the entire plot of the fic won’t even happen with my Nightmare, the fic is just gonna be reduced to a oneshot wheeze gchchcch

But for the sake of this ask, let’s imagine that my Nightmare did actually take Ink in, let’s explore how that would go

Another big difference? It’s Killer that’s gonna “warm up” to Ink first, (ngl, never understood the notion of Killer being the aggressive one cchhcch), i put “warm up” in quotes cause in reality it’s less warming up and more like, “wow! A change of pace? Something new? Interesting gotta squeeze every info outta them and maybe even manipulate them to suit me and convenient me while i’m at it”

Killer is social in nature, and unless Ink somehow reminds him of his own misary, there’s no reason Killer would pass up the opportunity to see how this new guy ticks, he’d study Ink like an ant, dissect them in his mind even, i mean, Nightmare getting someone new? He knows Nightmare isn’t one who likes change in his routine so what’s the new guy got that actually caught Nightmare’s interest this much?

All that aside, Killer is actually extremely docile to anyone as long as they don’t push him or force something upon him, and even when pushed, Killer is surprisingly patient and would simply let them get it out of their system all while making it clear he wants to be left alone until he loses that patience, so unless Ink somehow genuinely and actively pushes Killer’s buttons, he’ll never get on Killer’s nerves/bad side, Killer would simply treat Ink like he treats anyone, no genuine connection, just another thing (not person) to study and analyze

If Killer were to attack Ink in any way, it’s less aggression, and more “let’s see what this guy can do” just a quick test for his new lab rat

Killer wouldn’t form any genuine emotional connection with Ink, to Killer, Ink is just another toy Nightmare wanted to get for himself, and that’s talking about Stage 2, Stage 1 is… outta commission, I don’t think Ink would truly have the chance to meet Stage 1 Killer, meeting Stage 3 is a big possibility, but let’s hope Ink doesn’t have to cause I don’t think Ink would know how to deal with him

Murder and Horror are a different story, Horror wouldn’t want anything to do with the new guy, he already got a ton to deal with, he’s not interested to add another problem to his pile of problems, I wouldn’t say Horror would be aggressive, more passive aggressive, Horror is the old tired guy™ in the group, he’s got a splitting headache most of the time, a bitchy boss, hunger eating away at him and a Killer he would like to choke sometimes, he isn’t really in the mood to make friends

But as long as Ink doesn’t bother him, Horror would simply just co-exist with them, and even answer their questions or converse with them, but all in a “hurry up i want a nap” attitude

Horror has the capacity to warm up to Ink, but it’ll be a long slow journey till there, and Ink would have to do all the work cause Horror sure as hell won’t be the one trying to form a connection with him

Murder is a bit on the aggressive side, but not too much, just enough to make it very clear he isn’t up for making friends either, a bit of a cold shoulder if you will, but generally, Murder would just keep his distance, not trusting Ink too much, a bit paranoid about who he might be and why Nightmare brought them in considering they don’t look like they’d fit in their band of misfits at all

Still, Murder would warm up to Ink eventually if he truly realizes that Ink isn’t really that much of a bad guy, just another lost unfortunate soul that had miserable luck in life that Nightmare found them first

I’d say Murder is the one that might form a friendship with Ink, a twisted form of friendship where it’s “you’re now tolerable and so i might lend a hand here and there but every man for himself”, definitely not a rose filled friendship where it’s all rainbows, but a friendship nonetheless

But still, Murder is kinda the opposite to Killer, Killer is docile, Murder is hostile, so if Ink were to be hurt by one if the MTT first, it’s most likely Murder’s doing

But in general, it’s Killer that’s gonna help Ink “catch up” and get up to date on how things go around the castle and in general, it’s pretty much his job as he’s Nightmare’s right hand man, so if anything happens or if Ink steps outta line which could’ve been prevented had Killer done his job by properly introducing Ink to their “work flow”, it’s an 80% possibility that Killer is the one that’s gonna be in trouble

Don’t Imagine Killer doing his job in the sense of actual genuine love to help and more, cold distant “here’s how you can survive” without much emotion behind it even, just Killer smiling his dead smile and chatting it up, and even going as far as physical harm for “demonstration purposes”

When it comes to Nightmare and his relationship with Ink… there isn’t any, Nightmare sees Ink as another asset, another miserable soul to do his bidding, if Nightmare somehow deals with Ink’s refusal to hurt anyone then two things might happen:

1- Nightmare tortures Ink with his fear of white spaces and if things continue they way they do, and Nightmare reaches his limit, he’d simply try killing Ink off (now whether that would work is really up to you)

And

2- would let Ink warm up to MTT, then use them as scapegoats to force Ink to do what he wants by torturing them every time Ink decides to be stubborn (even going as far as making an example without any actual reason and demonstrating it by breaking one of MTT’s bones like twigs as Ink watches)

Now MTT would definitely start pressuring Ink to do his “job” to just murder someone or hurt them, as they aren’t looking forward to Nightmare torturing them just cause Ink wants to hold on to such delusional ideologies, and maybe even ending up feeling a lot of distaste for Ink and his behavior, their environment wasn’t meant for good intentions to blossom, and they’re gonna teach Ink that

If Ink somehow got stuck with Nightmare and his lil gang then man, I genuinely pity him

I feel like Ink would crave a tiny bit of genuine connection after being stuck in a white void for so long, but Nightmare and MTT don’t have that genuine connection, MTT are just roommates barely tolerating each other who live in absolute horrendous conditions under an abusive boss in an abusive environment, where the nicest most genuine thing one of them might do is tell you “hey don’t talk to boss today he’ll make you relive your worst nightmares, yeah, he’s in a mood today it seems”, and then there’s Nightmare who would make Ink extremely miserable and would use Ink’s fear of white spaces against him like the cruel sadistic bastard he is

Nightmare gang isn’t a found family, it’s a group of forced enslavement and labor, and there’s no escaping it

(The image of Killer’s jacket reaching Ink’s knees is really adorable tho, have a sketch for it :D)

#anothers ask #anothers art #ink sans #nightmare sans #killer sans #murder sans #dust sans #horror sans #murder time trio

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thatfreshi · 1 year ago

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OKAY OKAY LET ME COOK TAV HAS AN ABUSIVE EX LOVER AND ASTARION AND TAV RUN INTO THEM

We're all just trying to cook out here, let us cook!

TW - run-in with abusive ex, bf and ex get into a fight

Recommended Song: I Didn't Change My Number - Billie Eilish

Evening walks, humidity in the air from the day's rain, hands intertwined. You can't ask for much more. While you and Astarion enjoy a good party-filled night, it's nice to simply observe the bustle of dusk, lovers just now finding each other in alleyways, ridiculous drunken fights. It's fun, making little comments about the surrounding chaos, Astarion mostly just making fun of people's outfits.

"I mean really, I have never seen such a gaudy scarf in my life, and I've lived for almost three hundred years!"

"Yes, I remember."

"I'm just saying, truly a bad scarf."

You cling to him, as you usually do. The streets of Baldur's Gate make you nervous, so many uncertainties, especially one man. You never told Astarion about your past lover, not wanting to burden him with all of that. After all, you have no idea if he still lives in the city, but it still makes your skin crawl, knowing he's out there.

"Are you alright my sweet?"

He noticed you had slowed your steps, zoning out.

"Of course."

You smile, hiding the thoughts quite well. Eventually, the two of you make it to a quieter part of town, and you both lean against a stone building, taking in the sights of the stars. As people silently pass by, a figure makes their way towards you from the street.

"Well, if it isn't Tav? How are you old friend?"

Goosebumps, chills all across your skin. Your ex, a half-drow, eyes a burning purple. You stay silent, and Astarion simply watches the situation play out.

"Who's this?"

His gaze moves to Astarion. You wrap yourself around your lover's arm, squeezing him tight.

"Tav, would you like to go?"

Practically ignoring the drow, he turns to you, trying to deal with your fingers digging into his skin. You nod.

"Now hold on, I just wanted to say hi! Tav and I, we have a past together, and it just so happens I haven't seen them in a long time."

A grin grows across his face, disgustingly intrigued by your current circumstances.

"Yeah... hi."

You don't make eye contact, simply agreeing. Not liking the way things are progressing, Astarion goes to grab for the dagger under his coat, keeping his hand on the handle.

"Oh, so your new lover thinks he's so scary, huh? I'm sure you've told him all about me, right?"

"Aster, let's just go, please."

Your voice is practically a whisper at this point.

"Hold on darling, it's okay. I've got you."

He steps between you and the drow.

"Unless you want to be splayed all over the cobblestones, I'd suggest you move along now."

The drow steps to him.

"Splayed? Are you sure about that pretty boy?"

You didn't remember just how tall he was, making Astarion look tiny.

"Astarion!"

You plead, scared that he's bit off more than he can chew.

"Aw, scared for the pretty elf are you? Seems things haven't changed, you're still just a fearful mouse, prey."

He's said too much now, and the vampire pulls his dagger, meeting the drow's knife. While he's distracted trying to hold off Astarion's blade, the second dagger comes out, piercing right through the drow's stomach. He got him good, knowing right where to stab that would make him bleed profusely, but not kill him, not if he was quick. Your ex cries out in pain, he wasn't expecting the second blade. Astarion pulls him in by the collar.

"I never want to see you in this city again, understand?"

Still wheezing in shock, the drow nods, clutching at his stomach. Astarion smiles, content with his work.

"Good. Now, I would get someone to patch that up soon, lest you bleed out in the dark somewhere."

With that, he scurries off into the darkness, and you realize a few people were staring at the spectacle.

"Apologies, nothing to see here!"

Astarion waves off the strangers, and turns back to you.

"Are you alright my dear?"

You're still in shock, not expecting to see him here, now. You nod, wrapping yourself around his arm again.

"It's okay my love, it's over."

You mumble, lying against his arm.

"I know, I just-"

"Shhh, hush now. Let's go home, alright?"

You nod, weeping from the fear that still hasn't dissipated. He wipes away your tears, and you try to smile at him.

"Thank you."

"Of course my sweet, anything for you, always."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #comfort

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Forget-Me-Not 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit in the cold room, shivering as your fingers pulse numbly, toes too. They’ve taken your shoes, your clothes, and your freedom. You won’t let them break you though. You won’t let those damned Odinsons win. This isn’t a victory. There are some things they can’t win.

You shift, taking some of the weight off of your bound wrists. You lean against the wall, shoulders pressed to the plaster, ankles crossed as your keep your knees to your chest in an effort to stay warm. The dampness of the hotel basement adds to the deep chill in your bones as the noise of rumbling washers and dryers whirring from down the hall. You would scream if your could.

The cloth is dry and gritty in your mouth, remnants of dirty caught in the fabric from your struggle. You fought as hard as you could. You always did and yet it always turned out like this. You were never strong enough.

You hang your head. You always knew the Odinsons were scum. That there was something twisted about them. Their entitlement always reeked, but this, you couldn’t predict they’d go this far. And for what? A dead woman’s rotting old house.

No, this isn’t about the house. This is about you. This is because you didn’t let their spoiled little son break you.

You snicker darkly. How it must burn him to know he couldn’t crush the town slut with his wormy dick. That the girl who was already cracked, didn’t just shatter against his inflated ego.

He’s not as clever as he thinks. Look at you. This is not great trick. This is arrogance. This is desperation. It’s the Odinson way; if you don’t get what you ask for, you take it.

Your laughter trickles off as you hear the footfalls approach. You hate that you know his gait. That you’re certain it’s him before he even appears. You don’t look up, you won’t suffer the sight of him.

“I tried to play nice,” he taunts as he closes the door. “I even asked...”

You lean your head to one side and close your eyes in a yawn. He huffs and his toes taps, the polished leather glinting in the corner of your eye. He steps nearer and looms over you.

“It didn’t have to be like this.”

“It does,” you say blithely, “do you really think you are the worst thing that ever happened to me?” You snort, “please.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t believe so. It must be hard to compare between so many,” he mocks, “do you even recall how many there were? Hm?”

Your lips tauten and you clench your jaw.

“You always were a pathetic little loser, Loki Odinson,” you sneer.

“I’m certain you thought so when we met by the river, hm? When you cried to me--”

“Oh, get on with it,” you snap. “I’m over this. I’m over you,” you lift your chin and glare up at him defiantly, “I haven’t thought of you in twenty years and if you weren’t standing here in front of me, I’d not even know what you look like or how your voice makes my skin crawl. I do not think of you. You are nothing. We both know if you left this forsaken village, you be just another snake in the grass and soon enough you’d be trampled under someone else’s boots--”

He moves quickly. You can’t react, can’t defending yourself as he kicks to in the chest, putting his sole flat to it as he pins you to the wall. You wheeze and cackle. That’s it. You got him.

“Let’s think about who is under who’s boot, dear,” he slithers.

“I...” you rasp, “you know... people talk...” you take tight, tortured breaths under the crush of his boot, “so much and I never heard... of a wife... or children... nothing but... dejection...”

“Shut up,” he barks.

“You’re trapped here,” you croak, “by your own fucking... fear. Because you’re scared... that Loki Odinson... is no one--”

He brings his toe up to your chin, kicking you so your jaw snaps shut and your teeth pinch your tongue painfully. You taste blood as you land on your side. You groan and try to blink away the silver stars in your vision.

“Aw, baby...” your legs fold over limply, “did I hit a nerve--”

He squats down and fists your hair, ripping your head up violently. Twisted on your side, your eyes roll with the lingering impact of his kick. You grin with blood coated teeth.

“You never used to talk so much--”

“Ptah!” You spit your mouthful into his face. He lets you go and you barely keep your head from hitting the floor. He wipes his cheek and grimaces. “You always talked too much.”

He doesn’t say a word. You hear a metallic tink, the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle. How many times had you heard that? How many times did you close your eyes and just wish it was over?

You brace yourself and use all your strength to move. You roll onto your back and plant your feet. You turn yourself as fast as you can, leaning your weight on your shoulders as you use your legs to maneuver. You fling your foot up and land your shot true.

Your foot crunches into Loki’s crotch as he stands pompously over you. He gurgles and goes rigid as his legs lock. He grips tight the leather of his belt and trembles before he falls to his knees. You kick again, this time catching his stomach. He puffs out with a gasp and you go for a third.

You miss his face as he shields himself with his forearm. He grunts as he cups his pants with one hand and grabs your ankle with his other. He yanks you, twisting your foot away from his face as you aim your heal at his jaw once more. He latches onto your other ankle and flips you over, swinging around to straddle you as you flail your legs.

Your knees hit the floor painfully as he pins you. He turn himself around so he’s facing your head and he smacks the back of your skull. He growls and lifts himself slightly. The buckle clinks again and leather swishes against fabric. You snarl as he hooks the belt around your neck and pulls it tight, forcing your head back.

“I know you remember this feeling,” he bends to hiss against your scalp, “I know you think about this every night. I want you to think about it every second of every day...” he yanks the belt until you can’t breathe, “you will never forget me. Never.”

#loki #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #forget-me-not #series #drabble #au #backwoods #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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cantgetworsethanthistbh · 1 month ago

Note

Don’t know if you’re still taking prompts but if you are you should totally write about ford eating out fem!stan for the first time plz🙏

hey anon! sorry i took a really long ass while to respond to this since i couldnt think of any specific scenarios to write this prompt of that wasn't just, you know, the prompt— but it finally hit me like a truck today! and also cuz i was sick and doing this in between homework djdndhdsn

anyway, VERY explicit under this read more, since i got SO carried away, hope you dont mind its the geezers pre-weirdmageddon in this one AND that you dont mind a little sex pollen also ty ty ty so much for your fem!stan request i love it when people enable me dhdndhdbdu also sorry to everyone who exoected a "read more" but tumblr hides my stuff when i do that so heres the warning, please scroll if thats not your thing

"Constance, get down!"

"Wha—"

It was too late. Cloud of pink glitter exploded in her face and sent her into a coughing fit so hard her lungs shook in her ribcage. She drops to the floor and hears Ford's "Constance!"

Then she hears him fire his space gun. Just out of her periphery was chunks of blue goo that would be a fucking bitch to clean out of the walls and carpet, but la di da, there it was. There isn't a second to groan about that or the way her breathing turned heavy when Ford runs to her side, grabbing at her arm and forcing her to her back.

"Constance, are you okay?"

"Stanford..." Stan wheezes, turning her head into a hafl glare. "What... the HELL was that...?"

Ford's eyes narrow, inspecting her face, before his thumb brushes against her cheek. Stan shivers, a full body quake and confusion over taking her while Ford inspects his thumb. From down here, Stan can only stare because what else can she do when she's down, dizzy with virtigo from whatever magical poison that got sprayed across her face.

From down here, Stan feels the heat from Ford's grip, the pads of his fingers and the large mass of his palm against the bare skin of her arm, tickling the nerves underneath into sending sparks that go through her body and meet at the coil of her stomach. Even Ford's knee, under all that cloth and was much father from her face than Stan seems to think it is, illicited some deep, twisted something in Stan again she hasn't felt in a while.

"Ford?"

Ford's eyes snap back to her, blown and widened with alarm. Suddenly, he grabs her arm again, slips it over his shoulders, the other encircling her back. Stan thinks, alright, he's going to help me up, before a squawk rips from her throat when his arm loops under the back of her knees and lifts her to the air.

"What are you—?!"

"No time to explain, let's go," Ford says with all the urgency of a man on a mission. Carrying her out of their fairy-thing-guts covered living room with way too much ease, he sprints into the giftshop, ignoring Stan's confusion and dragging her into the basement.

It doesn't take a too long to find herself sitting on Ford's desk, trying to pump the breaks on the now doubled speed of her heart and the vibrations that run through out her body, working its ways to adjust to the surrounding. When Ford plopped her down and breathed the same air she did for less than a second, she felt it— ignition to an burnt out furnace suddenly bursting to new life. there was so much heat simmering through her veins, her nerves, every god damn thing was way too much to handle.

She's hot. Ford's desk and the glass plane behind her was cold, cold to a chill, and her thighs clench and rub together, onto the desk, aching for that rub of friction because she needed something hot, hot now, just as hot as her. Her mouth was dry, all the spit went on her tongue to her lips. Things— way too many things jumble in Stan's head, ranging from what the fuck is happening to holy shit, when did Sixer get that strong.

What stood out the most through was her brother saying he messed around with fucking nymphs, and all morning he's been hunted down by them. The one dead by their living room? A fucking nymph-assassin.

"Sixer, what the hell?" She pants, and oh God, she's panting? When the hell did that happen? Stan sucks in a breath again when Ford turns from rummaging through his stuff again to finally throw her a glance. Red hot heat crawls up her neck and she bites down on her lip when his eyes zero in on her squirming, her thighs. Stan might've thought she saw his jaw flex but, fuck if she wasn't also just going delirious.

"Why the hell were you messing around with those things in the first place?"

"I needed something from them, Constance," Ford answers measuredly, and Stan hears another racket from him looking for some goddamn thing through out his mess. "I've made an ammicable deal with them in the past, and now they're pushing for more. That's out of my control."

"I bet you backed out of that deal," Stan accuses, because it was pretty clear to them that Ford wasn't a god damn master of trickery or whatever. "What, you tried to swindle them for more of this fuck-powder? You know they sell viagra at the store?"

"That wasn't what I dealed with them for," Ford mutters lowly and, damn, if it were any other time, Stan would make fun of him. Stan would tease him, laugh at the embarrassed pout on his face, the bright red flush over his cheeks and ears. But she can't, not when Ford's back was what she's staring at, the broad, plane of his back and wide slopes of his shoulders, hidden under that stupid trenchcoat and sweater combo.

Where they could be ripped off and Stan could see all the things she never would have imagined her cute, nerdy but unappreciatedly handsome brother growing into if not for the one perk of getting shoved into a portal to whole universes of things trying to kill him. When she couldn't imagine him getting any hotter than he already—

They're back, those stupid god damn fantasies. They came at night, they came in the morning. They came whenever she and Ford would pass each other in the hall in their mutual agreement of no-talking, and his shadow almost engulfs her completely nowadays, and all she thinks is how stupid this whole avoiding each other thing is and they could be siblings as thick as thieves again.

Or even better— Ford could shove her into the wall and kiss her until she can't breathe. He could let her push that coat of his shoulders and sweater off his back so Stan's hands could crawl up them again. He could bite her neck, unbutton her blouse and pants, put one of those big palms to use and grope and squeeze around her tits, put those extra fingers to use and slip them into her pants, underwear, her, while Stan barely holds herself together biting at the firm skin on his shoulder.

Put that smartass mouth to use and say "Thank you, Stan" or "You're so good for me, Stan."

Get on his knees and put that mouth to even better use if he'd just shove down her pants, place his hands on her hips, nose against her bush and his mouth on her—

It takes a second too long to realize, but it happened. one hand slid between her legs, pushed the fabric of her boxers away to brush at her wet and even more senstive pussy. A second too long to stop that haggard mewl that came out of her lips.

A second too long to see that Ford finally turned back with a jar in way too tightly gripping hand, staring slack jawed at Stan behind his glasses.

Fucking great.

"Constance," Ford breathes shakily, and no, this can't happen. Their relationship can't get any worse, and sure Stan is gross for thinking about her brother that way, but she can't help that they're coming at the worst time, when she can't hide in her room far, far away from the basement and ride on her fingers to quiet cries of Ford's name.

"G-God, don't be so dramatic about it!" She says, sweat prickling at her neck. "You-you've seen me change and get naked before! This isn't that different!" Because there wasn't totally a difference between getting used to changing infront of your brother when you could barely live in one small space together when you were kids to touching yourself to them, right infront of them.

Right?

Man, she's such a sucker.

Shame is mixing with her already sizzling skin, and she needs to go. Take that jar-of-something to her room and figure it out on her own because obviously, Ford already wanted nothing to do with her and would want it even less now. Goddamn it, this would be so much easier if Ford didn't have eyes that were identical to hers, but wore it with that cutting stare that tore through her. Since they were teens and she was in denial about getting off to her twin brother who stared a little too hard— or even since forever.

Or at least if she wasn't still so hot and bothered thinking about him where she thinks she might've already came to his god damn desk.

Stan starts pushing herself off of it, face sweaty and pink. "F-Fine, I'll go. Just gimme that antedote and I'll—"

Ford closes the gap quicker than a lightning bolt, the jar already rolling on the floor and Stanford's mouth already crushed against hers, all hungry and desperate like he couldn't physically hold himself down anymore and their glasses knocking askew. He's nudging himself between her knees, his hands onto the fat on her hips, and shit, did he just moan? From just kissing her? Oh damn.

"Nevermind that. I think I have a better antedote," Ford says against her lips. "I'd like to test it out."

"Just fuck me already, Sixer, oh my God."

Stanford lights up, smiles like he won the damn lottery or fifty research grants or whatever. He dives right back in, kissing Stan, and sinking twelve nails into her hips as he drags them together. Stan groans, feeling the already hard tent go even harder against her, and her skin is on fire again, but this time melting the frigid parts of nerves into a liquid heat that's flowing directly down into her stomach, warming her up inside. Ford's hands move quick, from pushing the straps of her tank top down until she feels breeze touch her nipples to taking no sensitive measures to tugging and eventually ripping her boxers off her. Ford pulls away, and drags is mouth onto her neck then chest and Stan finally gets to put her hands on his shoulders, how big and strong he's gotten. One goes through his half greyed hair, and even when he was a teen she loved the dark, curly mop she'd pull into a noogie, but now it just makes him look better.

It makes her so mad, specially with what a grade A dick he's been. But she can't be that mad when Ford reaches her boob and takes a nipple into his mouth, nipping then sucking hard. "Shit—" Stan hisses, and there's nothing more to say than that.

"Fuck, Stan," Ford mutters against her skin, his breath tickling with the wetness on her nipple. "You drive me crazy."

"You're the one who fucked– ah– with Nymphs," She points out, and yeah maybe she could be a little jealous about that, but it dissapates when his fingers make their way into the warm, wetness of her pussy, just as special as Stan imagined it'd be. "Were– hh– they g-good lays, at least?"

"Not what I dealed with them for," Ford repeats, like that answers anything, and sinks loudly onto his chair, right between Stan's knees. His eyes drag down slowly on Stan, from her definitely fucked up hair, to half down tank top and tits hanging out, to right between her legs, and if Stan wasn't full on blushing then, well she sure was now. For a second it looks like he considers taking off his glasses, before deciding against it. Nerd.

Hooking the back of her knees over his shoulders, he smirks up at her again with that tear-her-apart stare again. "I doubt they'd ever taste this good."

Before Stan could respond to that, Ford's face goes between her thighs and his mouth is on her. If Stan thought she almost came earlier, then she's holding on for dear life when Ford's tongue laps at the outside before sinking deeper into her, sending shockwaves through out Stan. Moaning against her like he's the one getting head, like he's getting off from the taste of her on him alone. The flat of his tongue pushes against tight muscle, the heat almost pulsing, and making the wetness there grow more and more

Fuck, just Holy shit, how did he get this—

"Oh!" Stan gasps, one hand finding her own breast and the other on his desk, barely feeling the cold anymore with the clashing heat taking up her whole body, and all she can really feel is Ford's nose bumping against her bush when he only lets up for his teeth to graze against the nub of her clit while his fingers take over below. Stretching her out with his big, thick fingers, just so he could watch her like some pervy, old—

Then he sucks gently on it, and Stan is seeing white.

"Shit– Ford, I'm–"

"Just let it out, Stan," He says, still mostly against her. "You've been so good this whole time.

Thick thighs closing around Ford's head, that's what does her in. Of course it is. Her mind completely blanks out, turning to the white static on TV for a few moments until she realizes she's riding the rest of her orgasm on Ford's mouth at the end of it, while he laps it up like he'd die if he doesn't, like he's the cursed one.

Stan could barely register the murmurred whispers of her name and the movements of his arm from under the desk she's on until he's letting out a shuddering breath, forehead against her belly. Stan couldn't help the grin lighting up her face then.

Great, at least she's not the only one.

Just like that, the heat... doesn't really leave. Just wrapped around her cozily like the trenchcoat Ford threw over her when he finally stands up, only to drag Stan back on his lap. She's not getting used to that thirty years long honed strength anytime soon.

"Suppose I have a new more effective measures now," Ford says, lips finding Stan's, and she could taste herself on there, passed like a secret.

She's not getting used with this affection either, but Stan wants to see Ford try.

They stay a couple of moments there basking in this glow, until Stan peers up again, scratching the back of her neck when realization hits her.

"Hey, Sixer... you're the one cleaning that carpet upstairs, right?"

#is this any at all accurate to actual nymph behavior?? probably not how would ik dudnud #also fucking MURDER warning holy shit #but thats not the point of this lmao #inside you there are two wolves #ford ate out a whole bunch of things while in other dimensions so jes skilled af #or #ford doesnt know what hes doing hes just so enthusiastic it gets stan all hot and bothered #stancest #ask #fem!stan #ficlet #my writing #sex pollen stufff came to me like a damn bat i HAD to write it in #nsft

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lyavee44 · 5 days ago

Text

Saudade [LEON S. KENNEDY X LUIS S. NAVARRO]

oh man, i never posted a fanfic before. im SCARED.

english isn't my first language, so i apologise for any errors in advance. and PLEASE correct me so i know better in the future!<//3

word count - 25k

cw - COVID-19 is actually a B.O.W. (😭), mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, vulgar language, umbrella sucks ass, bad worldbuilding, sort-of coming out on both parts, fluff, angst if you squint, i forgor that benford kicked the bucket in 2013 so pretend he didn't 🙀 i already resurrected luis + re6 storyline is trash let's ignore it for the sake of old man yaoi

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

This time, it can be different. It has to.

That is exactly what Leon told himself so many years ago before being sent off to rescue Ashley Graham. True, it sure was different. Nothing in his life could've prepared him for such an awakening, for having sunshine gently cascade over his face just for an eclipse to come moments later. Nothing could've prepared him for the harsh drop that left him chilled to the bone, blinded, and lost.

It's not as if he never loved before per se, he's had his fair share of flings - more or less serious. He's never been in so deep, though. He's never been one to believe in feelings to develop so quickly, either. Or rather, he didn't let himself get those feelings to bloom. Too risky to even think about it. Potentially harmful to himself and the other person. Forget it, Kennedy.

He knows there's more to life than just what he's grown to get accustomed to over the years. The stench of blood and gunpowder was practically undetectable to his nose at this point with how often he's caught onto it. It felt as if any firearm he got his hands on was molded perfectly for his callous palms, it felt natural. And yet, he knows this isn't it. This isn't what life is about, it's not about ending other beings for the sake of saving more. "Saving the world by destroying it, ain't that backwards?" is what he said to someone years ago as well. Goodness, it's been so many years and they're pouring through the cracks of his fingers. They're slipping away faster than his sobriety with every sip. Where did the time go...?

The agent sat there on his bed, right at the coffee table. His hand felt glued to the shot glass, the back of his throat beginning to burn more and more with the sting of pure vodka. He didn't even bother to buy his favourite booze, brandy, he didn't feel particularly deserving of a decent treat. If anything, he was miserable. All the years went by faster than the shots he's been downing for the past hour. While he isn't much of a lightweight, his head was fuzzy. All Leon wanted right now was to never leave his own eerily empty four walls anymore. He didn't want to bother, he just wanted the world to shut off.

And just when he was about to pour another round, his phone rang. The blonde groaned, his brows furrowing. He reached for the beat up device, checking the caller ID.

Hunnigan.

"Great," he rasped out, mumbling quiet expletives and then taking a few deep breaths. He knew better than to be impolite to his fellow support agent. She wasn't at fault for any of this madness anyway. She was just there to team up with him, and he had no business in having her deal with his low humour.

Clearing his throat, he finally picked up and hesistantly raised the phone to his ear, speaking in a groggy voice.

"Hey there, long time no speak." he tried to sneak in a chuckle, but all that came out was a short, wheeze-like scoff. The last mission he's been assigned to was maybe a month ago, and they hadn't spoken since.

"Really funny, Leon." the woman chided him in her low voice, although her retort held a hint of fond amusement. Despite everything, she cared for him like a friend would, professionalism aside. Speaking of which, she cleared her throat and forced herself to talk about what was at hand.

"Listen, there's something brewing. It isn't looking so good. It's-"

"No shit, Ingrid." he cut her off, his voice more impatient. He mentally cursed himself for snapping, although he already know what was at hand. Just another time he's gonna be getting his hands dirty for the sake of everyone else.

"Come on, Leon! What's up with you now?" Hunnigan exclaimed, already getting fed up with his attitude. "We've got something at hand that isn't looking like a regular B.O.W. It's not mutating phenotypes like the regular ones, it's more like... It's..."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He cut her off once again, although it was uncertain if he was chiming in or apologising for his earlier behaviour. "No, it's just... Nevermind. Tell me about this."

"Thanks," The other agent huffed in response, shaking her head on the other line.

"It's as if they're coming up with someone to just straight up weaken or kill people." She finally explained as vaguely yet efficiently as she could, radio silence on the other side almost deafening her.

"Leon...?" She felt his hesistation, and it only served to frustrate her further.

"Yea, yea, m'still there," He mumbled, his voice holding a slight tremble to it. While he always kept a level head and quick wit in which he secretly prided himself in, he felt like he'll crumble any second now. He didn't know what was up with him this time, this dread...

"Leon!" Hunnigan yelled, her brows furrowed. "Turn on the video chat, I gotta see if you are in a decent state at all."

He flinched, hating the way it all got to him. He let out a grumble and clicked the video chat feature, his broken front camera displaying him in a slightly blurry picture. And yet, the redness to his nose and cheeks was obvious. Not only was he tipsy, but he seemed... shaken.

"There you are. Now, just listen. I don't know what the hell is up with you, but i wanna see you at the headquarters in half an hour. Not a minute later." The woman's brows were scrunched together, her red, round glasses gently slipping near the tip of her nose.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a weak smile, letting out a loud exhale when she nodded and ended the call. He hid his face in his hands, letting out yet another shaky breath.

***

"...And as you can see, it's not a regular bioweapon. All we know is that the Umbrella unit in Wuhan is probably responsible for this. We probably will have to send you and a few other agents to China for further investigation, and hopefully have you eliminate the risks." Hunnigan spoke in a levelled tone, holding a bunch of documents in her slender hands as she finished giving him an overview of the situation, although it was still too vague to take action properly. Leon stood there, really out of it. While he was showered and wearing clean clothes, he felt nasty. He was so tired, so guilty over snapping at everyone, even the kind young man at the lobby. 'God damn it Kennedy, what has he done to you?' he thought, only registering what she was saying. He spared a moment to think about the whole ordeal though, a spark of realisation dawning on him.

"Does that mean they want to... eliminate civilians in an unassuming way? With just a mutated flu, is that it?" He suggested, pointing at one of the reports on his colleague's desk.

Ingrid's eyes widened, she glanced at the document and back at him in bemusement.

"Now that's a... dark scenario. A scarily fitting one at that," She responded, her voice holding a hint of nervousness.

"Didn't we have scarier stuff out there, though? A deadly cold is still better than an ARG-esque rendition of The Walking Dead." He scoffed bitterly, shooting her a glance. Holding onto cynical humour was his only grip on sanity, the last desperate scratch at the border of being in his right mind. He was terrified deep inside, like that boy he used to be. The poor, shaken young man, covered in sewage and blood, forced to kill and hopefully not get killed. He's been running scared for so many years. It all got him want to just have it all flip backwards and let him aim the glock at his temple. He missed the cheery lad he used to be. The spring in his step, the spark in his navy eyes that restored hope in everyone's hearts is long gone.

And yet, his own heart pumped with this foolish, childish virtue.

"Leon," the woman spoke in a quieter tone, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You know you've got this. You've got it all this time. You have this resilience in you that inspires many." She tried reassuring him, patting his shoulder softly. While it was rare for her to drop her façade of stoic professionalism, she sensed it's not something worth being cold over. Like they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.

"Yea, inspires Benford to make me a slave." He mumbled, although his expression softened at her touch.

"Thanks, Hunnigan. I... I appreciate it. We're in this together, ain't we?" He shot her a more determined look, the corners of his lips twitching up just a little bit further up. The woman nodded, a small smile making way to her face as well.

He really felt grateful for having solace in her, it seemed as they understood eachother without speaking a word. She truly was a friend to him, teaming up with him through the trenches of this rotting world.

Life couldn't be that way until the end. It has to be different someday. It has to.

***

It's been quite a bit since Hunnigan called him in, and there was no actual news. The president dialled him a few times and spoke about this as well, although he was just as confused and frantic as they all were. The ordeal sparked unsettlement in the HQ, and it soon was to spread like a sickening virus to the outside world.

Figuratively and literally.

"Agent Kennedy, I'm afraid it's going to be something we hadn't seen before, I-I need to inform you beforehand that it's a worldwide crisis..." President Benford spoke frantically, it was a bit unlike him. Leon was watching the news while on the phone with him, trying his best to focus on both.

"The countries of British Islands are currently in lockdown due to a pandemic spreading, the citizens are advised to not leave their houses without protective masks on," There it was, the thing everyone was whispering about at the DSO headquarters. It was a hush-hush topic, as no one knew for sure. Or rather, no one wanted to be sure of something like this.

"Well yes, I can definitely figure as much. The UK is already quarantined, ain't it? What about China, then? Wouldn't that make a potential mission harder to even initiate?" The man spoke up, fiddling with an empty glass in front of him. He surprisingly wasn't drinking this time around, though. He secretly hoped that the mission would've been handled differently, without his involvement. It was hard to imagine a different scenario, though. It's the sad truth - whenever there's real danger, he's gotta step in.

"No. If anything, it'll be a bit easier. Civilians will stay home, and your job will be limited to entering the Umbrella facility. You might be sent to Wuhan along a few agents that'll be chosen for the job. We won't make the team larger than maybe three units at best." The older man explained, all while Leon was rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Sure, easier..." The blonde blurted out quietly, biting his lip. He didn't know what's been getting into him lately, something akin to a midlife crisis of some sort. While still strong and energetic, he was a wreck mentally. Like a reanimated corpse. He shuddered at the imagery, the picture hitting too close to what he's been dealing with during T-virus outbreaks.

"I will pretend i didn't hear that." The president replied in a stern voice, clearly displeased with the agent's demeanour. They were friends, but also on boss-employee terms. That came first, unfortunately.

In no time, languid days of downing whiskey and eating store bought lasagna were cut short before Leon knew it. The man was currently being transported to China with a few other agents. While they did technically form a team, he knew he'll probably have to do most of the dirty work including sneaking into the labs while they corner the scientists. His earlier apprehension and apathy was replaced with a newfound determination: he knew it's just a matter of time for a virus outbreak to come to fruition, and it's not even clear what kind of virus it really is. Nothing he's been dealing with before, yet nothing he couldn't handle. Right?

***

Wuhan, China - 01/23/2020

The blonde man's finger tapped against the barrel of his handgun nervously. It was rare for him to fidget, but something about the whole ordeal was off in general. Day of the Wacko, he thought to himself.

As him and the team were discussing details of breaking in while hiding between a field of some large containers, they came to a conclusion that the three younger agents should hide in strategic spots and eventually corner anyone who gets on Leon's tail, who's going to be responsible for investigating and essentially just sneaking around the enemy's lair. Exactly how he knew it'd go. While he was tired and annoyed, he didn't trust anyone else to do this quite like he did.

"Roost to Condor One." The slightly noisy sound of a leveled mezzo-soprano voice came from his COM, successfully cutting his pondering short.

"Condor One here, we're near the facility's rear gate. Obviously just trying to break in through the gate itself is not the way, we're trying to figure out if there's a way through the sewers, perhaps." Leon responded, keeping his voice hushed as he spoke to Hunnigan. However his attempts to stay discreet were cut short as one of the rookies shouted cheerfully that he found a sewer entrance that could directly lead to the facility. The older agent facepalmed discreetly and another young rookie chided her teammate, her tone also hushed despite the sternness.

"We've got to go there soon. Condor One out." Leon hang up, waving his hand at the rookies and trotting closer to the canalisation entrance in the ground. He wasted no time in asking the young woman for help with moving it aside, she seemed quite toned compared to the other two men they've been working with. Once they could enter, they immediately rushed inside the sewers, the last of the agents clumsily pulling the cover back on once he slipped in as well.

The way inside Umbrella's building wasn't exactly pleasant. The stench of rot and filth was unbearable, it was a real challenge to not slip on some of the disgusting, miscellaneous things on the concrete. Other agents whined under their noses, and Leon couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"When I was your age, I tumbled around worse smut." He quipped, trying to lift the mood. All he got in response were stifled chuckles, and he mentally cursed himself for his choice of words. His embarrassment was short lived once they found a ladder that could lead to the building's rear gate.

Everything else went pretty much according to plan, even Leon's silent vow to not scold the everliving shit out of his colleagues. They were clumsy, they seemed too careless. They're still kids, they've got to learn the ropes, you used to be just like them, he repeated in his mind.

While they managed to break into a cloakroom and get their hands on janitor attire, the older agent began to look for somewhere more private so he could dial Hunnigan. The whole ordeal was so vague, he didn't even know what the hell's he looking for.

"Condor One to Roost, we've successfully broke in. I'm currently trying to locate a lab, although I'm not exactly sure what I gotta look out for," He whispered while tucked away in a bathroom stall, constantly looking around for cameras. Chill out, it's illegal to monitor bathrooms... So is creating bioweapons, and yet here we are, he paled at the thought.

"From the info gathered from a spy, you should head to the third floor and look for room number 3048. That's the place suspected of having a potential new bioweapon hidden there." Hunnigan responded, catching onto his quiet voice and figuring she better be careful as well.

"Copy that. I'll go right away. Condor One out." He hang up, shoving his COM into his pocket and sighing. He carefully listened for a clue of his team's diversion starting so that he could leave and head straight to the point. The plan was to get the attention of scientists on something insignificant so that he could get to point B.

A creaky moan reverberated through the halls, and concerned voices echoed. He chuckled to himself, amused at his colleague's theatrical display. The blonde quickly snapped out of it though, double checking if he's got everything on him and beginning to head straight for the third floor.

It was surprisingly easy, all he had to do was evading a few oddly placed cameras making his way up some stairs. Looks like they're not exactly fit. Tch, the elevator's for pussies, he mused to himself. He was quiet as a mouse, reaching the third floor without even wheezing from extertion it must've taken. The hall was darker than the other ones, and just a few doors had light peeking through the cracks. The most dim, barely visible brightness was right at the spot he was just meant to find - lab 3048. Bingo.

The agent quietly sneaked closer, looking around for security cameras. To his surprise, there was only one, and it only recorded the other end of this hallway. As he walked, he stopped in his tracks right at the large, white door. Was he supposed to just barge in and get attention on himself or what? His hesistation and also his perfectly seamless approach was ruined by his COM ringing, making him hiss out a panicked curse as he quickly spoke to the device, his voice oddly high and quiet.

"Not now, Hunnigan! Not now!!" he pleaded, hearing someone behind the heavy door scrambling frantically. Before his informator even responded, the entrance was swung open by someone.

This encounter had this person fall back to his chair, slumping in it while breathing heavily as a few of the messy documents on his desk were sent flying to the floor.

"Leon, what are you doing here?!" the person shouted, his eyes blown wide.

The agent stood there, not even reaching for his gun with how shocked he was. However, his stunned expression quickly gave way to fury as he stormed to grab the man by his shoulder, pinning him harshly to the desk's corner as he grabbed his firearm and pointed it at his head. The man hissed, his brows furrowing, even though he only flailed a bit to try and squirm away.

"Luis, what the fuck?! Was that whole ordeal staged? Are you still working with that mad woman?! You bad fucking liar, how could you do this," he rasped, his ocean blue eyes piercing into the Spaniard's brown ones in utter rage. His grip on his shoulder never lessened, mercy barely holding onto him by a thread.

Luis Serra Navarro. There he was. Not blown up somewhere in the Valdelobos mine, being remember by Leon as a remarkable example of self fueled redemption and determination. There he was, putting utmost care to working for the very company that ruined many lives, ruined Leon's life, crawling back to eat from their hands like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he is, a bastard mutt that betrayed him.

And yet, a twinge of something bright tugged at his heartstrings. He's alive and well. Right in his arms, just inches between them. This childish hope alongside a whirl of questions flied around his head like a bunch of wild bats, the more regretful and frustrated ones mixed with the more... exciting ones, in a way. Did he miss him? What was he up to? Has he thought about him? How did he stay so sweet?

"Amigo, let me explain-" Luis wheezed out the plea, his expression full of remorse. He yelped quietly, his eyes squeezed shut when Leon only snarled in response.

"I am NOT your amigo. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that some sick joke? Was the cash worth more than your honour?" he mocked him sternly, gripping his shoulders until his knuckles were white. Deep inside, he was terrified and basically screaming at himself to drop the gun. He didn't want to shoot, not at him. Betrayed or not, it's still Luis. Very real and very much still himself. His soft brown locks pulled into a tiny bun at the back, the perfectly sunkissed skin, his stubble grown just a little more than usual. Just like he remembered.

"Mi vida, please! I-" the scientist coughed, shaking. He looked like a wet dog, to put it lightly. His state was worrying. The eye bags he normally had were way deeper and darker in hue. His hair was messy and a bit oily. His normally syrupy lips were chapped. Did he really remember them as syrupy? God damn it, but they never kissed. Why was he even thinking like that?!

Sighing, he lowered the gun and slightly lessened the grip on Luis' arm. He nodded at him, although he was moments from snapping again.

"Back in the mines, it was a terrible deal with me. Ada-"

"Of course it's Ada. Is it all her bribery? Don't you have your own mind, your own view?" Leon cut him off with something akin to resentment and sadness in his voice, scowling as he shook the handgun menacingly.

"Sancho, Sancho... don't think about it like that. She paid good money for saving my life. They restored most bodily functions, although my nervous system is still quite, uh, jodido." The Spaniard offered a bashful grin at the last part, hoping to light up the mood. However his next admissions weren't so cheery.

"I'm gonna be straight with you. It was either getting back to working for those bastards, or death and no chance of ever starting over." Luis deadpanned, his head hanging low. He looked ashamed and miserable, his defeated expression making him almost unrecognisable.

Leon's hand trembled as he lowered his weapon down to his waist, then hooked it in its place and came up to engulf his long lost friend in an embrace, earning a loud squeak from him.

"Ay, ay! Careful...!" The brunette whined, a bit surprised, although in a pleasant way. He quickly melted into the clumsy hug, patting his back.

"I'll get you out of here. You'll see." Leon spoke in a hushed tone, repeating reassuring words to his long lost friend, lost love perhaps. He never believed in feelings developing so quickly, yet everything they did together only ensured him that they've got to stick together.

"But-"

"No buts, Luis. Listen, you're better than this. You know you are," Leon whispered against his neck, pressing his cheek against his. He hoped it wasn't too... obvious. It'd be weird if he swung that way. Or if himself did as well. Doesn't he sway there already?...

The Spaniard shuddered, his head spinning. He was truly touched, his hand slowly trailing down to hold the agent by the waist.

"Listen, we can cooperate. I will tell you everything about the project, as I'm sure you're there for our little... cold." He began speaking, his lip all bitten from unease. He was grateful to run into his old mate again, yet the circumstances only reminded him of the time when he was still a fishy creep to Leon.

Leon loosened, pulling away with a confused expression before realisation downed on him, his jaw agape.

"So you're responsible for the COVID-19 outbreak...?"

"No, well, yes, but not quite," The man fumbled, with the hem of his labcoat, looking away.

"I was forced into the project under the threat of my past being exposed to the general public. I wouldn't hired in any other lab. I would probably be turned in for cooperating with terrorists. I didn't want to rot in Alcatraz or some other hellhole, but being cowardly isn't so great either..." He rasped, his voice full of remorse.

The blonde man looked down to his friend's gloved hands, the sterile scent of the lab mingling with his spicy, tangy perfume made him dizzy. In an oddly pleasant way at that. He scoffed quietly, raising the man to his feet.

"Listen, I have a plan. I'll pretend to capture you and deliver you to the US. Then I will convince the president to make you work for the S.T.A.R.S. researcher team."

"So I'll technically be held hostage, is that it...?" Luis sneaked in an uncertain giggle, shooting Leon a worried smile.

"No, dumbass. It's not a bad fate, trust me. I can absolutely get you out of legal consequences. My connections better be useful for once," Leon huffed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. He was determined to save his friend, score in the eyes of Benford, and maybe even...

He bit his lip, turning his head aside stubbornly and grabbing handcuffs from his belt. Luis shot him an alarmed look, but Leon only gave a nod in return and gestured him to stay still.

"Just let me do this. And dramaturgy will be much appreciated," He quipped, coming closer to restrain the brunette man, his hands behind his back now. He let out an indignant huff, shooting him a playful glance.

"Now that's one way to shortcut a date, Sancho."

Leon spluttered, giving him a smack to the hip.

"What- nevermind, let's just go. Pretend you're resisting," he murmured, grabbing Luis' wrists and dragging him to the exit, he also had his pistol ready to open fire, his focused and stern expression back in its full glory.

"Ah-a, there he is. Leon The Professional." Luis chuckled, winking smugly. All he got was a scoff in return, his wrists getting yanked harder.

"Just shut up. I wanna kidnap you properly," he muttered, squeezing the scientist's hands together.

"So much for a compliment..." Luis complained, pouting like a child.

***

The next few hours were a whirlwind of shooting up the damn place, successfully taking out quite a few guards and securing the SARS-COV-2 sample for further information. The other units cheered, shooting mockery at Luis every now and then. The Spaniard clenched his teeth, sitting through the constant jabs to his ego. Leon wasn't exactly pleased either, wishing he could just hold him instead of keeping a hawk's eye on the cuffed man. Hold him? What the fuck? He shook his head, unaware of the fact that a certain brown-eyed Hispanic 'hostage' was returning his concerned, fond gaze.

***

"Kennedy, what were you thinking? Bringing an enemy to the White House, is this some kind of joke?" president Adam Benford lamented, constantly pacing his office as Leon stood there awkwardly, holding his friend by the cuffs firmly yet gently.

"He could be a valuable asset, look at it like that," he began to nervously defend his plea for hiring Luis as the US government's bioweapon researcher, although the words he uttered burned. He didn't like referring to him as an 'asset', not even one bit. It gnawed at him to refer to his be- his friend in such a condescending way.

"Sure, because he knows all about it firsthand." Benford pointed out bitterly, glaring at the sheepish Spaniard before him. His head was hanging low, deep breaths escaping him.

"I... Mister President, I truly want to help. I was blackmailed, and I wish to-"

"Death is a better fate than rotting away in Umbrella HQ!" Benford deadpanned, the following silence hanging so heavy it could fill a deaf person with dread. Luis flinched, his head turning to the side as if he's been slapped.

Leon's brows furrowed, his grip on Luis' hands lessening just a bit. No, he isn't having it.

"You're not wrong, yet you must understand that Doctor Serra isn't a bad man. He was a great comrade back in Valdelobos, and..." He retorted defiantly, not relenting. He was dead set on freeing his friend at all costs.

"He betrayed you, Agent Kennedy. It's not what a good person would be up to." the president spoke with a desperate tinge to his tone, doing his best to just lead his best unit away from such a reckless idea.

"There's something you don't know, though. I was there when COVID-19 was created. It's not as complicated to me, I... I could figure out a vaccine," Luis spoke up at last, his voice scratchy from the scarce use of it for the past ten hours or so.

"In the eyes of a global pandemic and so many casualties so far, you're just now thinking about taking action? Is it remorse, or just a bastardly calculation to save your skin?" the president was seething, his words coming out as a low growl through clenched teeth.

"Adam, come on!" Leon begged, resorting to a first name basis with the representative figure of the United States himself. They are on good terms, sure, yet he's still a higher-up. Not only to him, hell, to everyone.

Benford sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It wasn't going to be a quick chat, that's for sure.

***

After long debates, weeks of house arrest and special force surveillance on Luis, a decision has been made. He's been assigned to cooperate with doctor Rebecca Chambers, a skilled genius among the S.T.A.R.S. scientists. Beat up, neglected in terms of health, with his old stab wound still restricting his movement somewhat, Leon made it his mini mission to nurse the Spaniard back to health. Well, he had nowhere to go, and he was assigned to look over him, keeping it in his apartment was the wisest choice...

Luis Serra Navarro was a free man who started a new life. Proud of himself and yet still guilty of contributing to the worldwide crisis, he worked like a busy bee to create an optimal kind of vaccine. Doted on and looked after by his amigo, he couldn't help but feel warm inside at the mere though of him. The blonde man's hair was already darkening as he aged, his bushy brows were always furrowed, yet he looked somewhat boyish still. Angelic, if he was allowed to think that. His Italian heritage came as a great surprise to the Spaniard, resulting in light-hearted teasing and playful quips in broken Italian. Luis' jokes sometimes brushed against the thin line between banter and flirting, and while the subject of them was pretty clueless, he did get that weird flutter sometimes.

***

Sitting with his legs crossed by the large window, Luis stared down at the dusky sky, sun setting behind many buildings of Washington DC. He sipped tea, unwinding after a long 24 hour shift of relentless work over the coronavirus shot. Leon was in the middle of cooking up a decent carbonara. His hispanic roommate often scolded for not knowing his way around the kitchen, saying how it's disgraceful for an Italian to suck so bad he could burn water in a kettle. While not letting it show much, the agent's ego was deeply wounded. He was dead set on proving he could replicate the hearty meals from his childhood. Whew, his childhood... Rough and cold, being tossed around and shoved aside as he was born into the Kennedy mafia, confessing it all to Luis was quite the hard candy, to put it lightly.

After twenty minutes of quiet noises reverberating through the small apartment, Leon was slowly stepping closer to his friend's side. Shaking his head, he forced himself to sit on the floor as well. He hated being 'improper' or however he put it, but his beloved's habits felt like the law.

Speaking of which, his eyes lit up at the sight of toasty food and his... saviour, so to speak. He hummed in approval when he sat by his side, nodding and whispering softly.

"Muchas gracias, mi estrella. It smells scrumptious." He smiled fondly, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of fresh carbonara. His eyes widened, and he hummed while shoveling a few more forkfuls of food, much to Leon's amusement.

"Did I improve that much?" he asked in a teasing tone, eating his portion more slowly.

"It's delish, Sancho. You've come a long way, I'm proud of you." Luis sighed in contentment, practically inhaling the food.

His words made Leon's heart stir, a bit of hesistation giving way to a shoot of confidence. He didn't know what got into him all of a sudden. He set his plate on the floor next to them, earning a puzzled hum from the Spaniard. The small noise morphed into a soft yelp when Leon leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against Luis' with his eyes half lidded. They stared deeply into his hazel ones, a low purr escaping him.

"So did you, Don Quixote. I'm proud of you as well," he whispered, his nose brushing against his. The blonde's freshly shaved beard contrasted with the brunette's scruffy stubble, making for a nice completion. Like polar opposites, they gravitated towards eachother. Leon's cold navy eyes were full of this spark that everyone thought was dead and gone.

"Dios mio..." Luis whispered, enamoured and captivated with the sight before him. He took in every small scar, every mole and birthmark, everything about the Adonis' offspring before him.

Leon's hand cupped his face, and he planted a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. It was barely there, yet it held more than just a pleasant gesture. It meant closure. It meant tenderness. It meant something that they both didn't dare to say out loud.

***

Leon was never exactly up for forming a family. He's quite good with kids, also he adores and loves women, sure. Both him and Luis have a reputation of being cheeky and flirty all the time. And yet, this feline magnetism in both of them didn't clash, it merged. With Leon's tenderness that mixed with smugness and Luis' carnal and candid demeanour, they completed eachother. And that's what made it a match made in hell we call our planet.

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#serennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy #luis serra #mlm #scifi #oh god i suck at tags

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dreaming-of-mossballs · 9 months ago

Text

Porridge for— you guessed it— A Bashful Captain (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: After hearing the shocking news that Gepard is sick, Serval entrusts you with the task of making sure he doesn’t burn himself out while no one is watching. Good luck with that.

▸ Genre(s): fluff

▸ Word Count: 5k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions

A/N: I’ve been struggling to get my posts to show in the tags, so let me know if you want to be taglisted! It’s really demotivating seeing my work get demolished by the algorithm.

MASTERLIST

How nice it was to have a moment of respite after a long and arduous campaign.

At least, that’s what the captain wished he could say.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be screaming at him to stay in bed after he woke up that morning. His throat felt like it had been scraped with steel wool and then some. Plus, his body felt chilled, even after piling far more than the usual number of blankets on his bed.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Serval had said. Aeons, she was right.

Gepard vaguely registered the fact that this combination of symptoms spelled disaster, but nevertheless, he had to get up. He drew in a deep breath in an attempt to gather the strength to hoist himself out of bed, but the air seemed to have invisible barbed wire that scoured his already painful lungs. He broke into a hacking cough that echoed throughout the estate and immediately sat up to cover his mouth with his elbow.

A knock on the door drew him out of his misgivings.

“Young master Gepard?” A concerned voice— which belonged to one of the maids— called.

Although the captain felt like his stomach was churning like butter, he shifted the blankets aside and treaded towards the door. Even the estate felt dreary that morning as the sunlight reaching through the window was weak and scattered (Due to a thick cloud covering, indicating an impending snowstorm.) The expensive plush carpet on the floor of the room did little to ease his newfound dislike of standing upright.

How silly he felt, a man who trudged through waist-deep snow on the daily, was now reduced to a sniveling mess in his family home. Gepard, still rubbing his nose, opened the wooden door slightly.

The shock on the maid’s face was evident as she caught her first glimpse of him. He really did look worse for wear, his golden hair was unkempt, his complexion was pale, and he had to lean on the doorframe to keep the room from swaying and bending inwards and—

“Um— young master. I heard you coughing,” she blurted out, eyeing his drooping eyelids. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?”

Gepard raised his voice to respond but instead let out a ghastly wheeze followed by coughing that sounded like thunder. He turned his head away so as not to catch her in the blast.

“Y-yes, please,” He resumed looking at her. “That would be much appreciated,”

His voice was uncomfortably hoarse. She glanced up at him. “Would you like it with lemon or without?”

The young man didn’t get a chance to respond. His calloused hand slid down the doorframe, his vision went fuzzy—

—and then everything went dark.

The maid’s shriek echoed off the walls, causing the sparrows that perched on the windowsills to take to the sky.

Her voice turned heads, both maids and butlers alike, all throughout the manor.

(It is said that they still speak about it to this day, much to her chagrin.)

❆ — ❆ — ❆

You were convinced that work was going to give you a heart attack.

With the Solwarm festival upcoming, flower sales practically exploded. Your job as a florist was a source of many joys, but even you had your limits. Your hands were permanently stained with a mix of red and orange from all the Solarflowers you’d been handling. It looked like brilliant flames adorned your arms, but it lost its novelty after you realized you couldn’t wash it off, even with industrial strength soap.

And you had a catch-up with Gepard in three days. Just great.

He’d sent the invitation through a surprise letter a week before he came home. He said he’d be busy for a bit with mission debriefings and yada yada, but he’d like to meet at Serval’s for lunch once he got the chance.

Couldn’t he have just texted me? You snorted when you opened it. Those nobles. (You betted that he’d never gone on a date that was anything other than a fancy matchmaking dinner.)

But then you realized that was dumber than dumb. He wasn’t allowed to have his cell phone on military expeditions. You nearly smacked yourself with the first edition copy of the Gardener’s Almanac in shame.

You cast a mournful, longing glance through the paned glass windows and out at Qlipoth fort. Of course Gepard had ten thousand meetings to attend to after getting home.

A pang of pity reverberated throughout your chest. Didn’t he at least deserve a short break? He was like a herding dog that never got a day off.

You looked up from where your head was resting on the counter, feeling the warmth of a Solarflower bouquet spread across your face almost like a blush. Handing the customer’s change across the counter whilst simultaneously stifling a heartbroken sigh wasn’t much, but it was one of the hardest things you’d done all day.

I am so. Friggin. Tired. You groaned. The overcast weather was really getting to your mood.

A clatter came from the back, which caused you to prick your ears.

“Hey, (Y/N)? The plumbing in the upstairs sink broke. We’re missing the right kind of wrench. Would you mind going out and grabbing it?” Meg spoke.

“Sure,” you perked your eyebrows, eager to escape your thoughts for a split second. “What kind is it?”

Your boss handed you a paper with the details, and you swung your florist’s bag over your shoulder with newfound gusto. A trip to Serval’s workshop was exactly what you needed.

The breeze outside the shop was stagnant. It made you shudder. You couldn’t control the weather, but you could sure as hell skip to the shop to spite the bad hand you’d been dealt recently.

The bronze shop bell dinged to announce your entry. And Serval, the owner of the Neverwinter Workshop, was fast asleep on a pile of papers.

That can’t be comfortable,

“Hey, Serv—,”

She shot up from her desk faster than you could blink.

“Welcome to Neverwinter Workshop! What can I— Oh! (Y/N)! Sorry about that, I just uh… dozed off for a bit,”

You chuckled. “Not a problem. I just came by for an 18x18mm wrench. Would you happen to have one of those?”

Molly, the assistant, peeked her head in from the back. “Only a few hundred of them,”

You stared back, flabbergasted. “Why so many?”

“Miss Serval put an extra zero on the order form,” she said with a shrug.

Serval looked at you sheepishly, her blue eyes filled to the brim with embarrassment. You shot her a glance loaded with concern.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” You inquired.

“Yeah, totally! Well… The band and I have been pretty busy with rehearsal lately. Y’know, with the Solwarm festival coming up and all—,” She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “—anyways, the person who’s case you should REALLY be on is Gepard’s,”

You lifted an eyebrow at her attempt to deflect the blame. “Yeah? And why is that?”

She paused, not paying you the slightest crumb of attention before she let out an planet-shaking yawn.

“Huh? Oh, he’s sick. Real nasty case. He got it from Pela,”

“Jeez. Seriously?” You exclaimed. “That sucks. I hope he gets better soon,”

She blinked slowly and tiredly. “Yeah, yeah. We do too. He actually passed out this morning,”

Your eyes went wide.

“He WHAT???”

“Ah, well, he passed—,”

“Nope, nope, nope. I got it,” you said, rubbing your temples while staring at the floor. “Holy crap. It must be really bad then. Did he have to go to the hospital?”

Serval shook her head. “Nope, thank Qlipoth. Lynx has had to crash here so she doesn’t catch it,”

You glanced around the workshop. “She has? Where is she?”

Your friend pointed at a stack of cardboard boxes stacked beside a shelf.

“Right there,”

And clear as day, you spotted the white tufts of fur from Lynx’s hat sticking out of her sleeping bag.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Okay… So, let me get this straight. Gepard returned home and promptly passed out,” You gripped the edge of the reception desk so hard you thought it might splinter. “Is anyone keeping him from going to the meetings or… anything?”

“Well, yeah. He knows well enough not to spread his sickness around. What I can’t say for sure though is that he’s not forcing himself to do paperwork… and stuff,” Serval hummed to herself, sorting through another stack of papers that had been rearranged from her catnap.

You let out a withering sigh. “Someone’s gotta stop him,”

Picking up your phone, you hurriedly dialed his number. After far too many seconds, you flopped helplessly onto the desk. No answer.

“Ugh. Can’t we like… call Dunn or the household or something?” You said weakly.

“I thiiink you may be blowing this one out of proportion,” she grinned, showing her pointy canines. “Why don’t you stop by if you miss him so much? You can knock some sense into him or whatever,”

She smirked as she saw embarrassment seep into your face.

Aha! So you DO miss him,

“Yeah, if warp trotters fly, maybe,” you tried to hide your expression by running a palm over your face. “I can’t just show up unannounced,”

“You sure can! I do it all the time,” she said cheerfully. “Usually when the man of the house isn’t there, though,” A look of distaste flashed in her eyes.

“The head butler has a good memory. He should remember you. Say I sent you—,” she perked up. “Oh! Here, I’ll write you a note,”

The blonde-haired woman yanked open a wooden drawer with an ear-piercing screech and lifted a notepad and pen out from its confines. She scrawled something out quickly.

“This should do,”

You squinted at the note skeptically.

I hereby authorize (Y/N), a friend of Gepard’s, to check up on him and make sure he isn’t working himself to death,

Signed,

Serval

[A strange doodle of a smiling face holding up a peace sign]

“Now go!” She shouted, practically pushing you out the door. “Go, go, go! You got this!”

“What—? Serval, I can’t—,”

“Yes you can! Call me if they don’t let you in. Rock on!”

She dropped you unceremoniously on the stone steps outside and slammed the door.

“Cheers!” Her muffled voice called.

I really should become a matchmaker, she snickered to herself.

You looked at the note once more and wilted.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Gepard’s residence was… exactly the same all the other times you had gone, maids and all.

It was still plenty overwhelming though. You brushed the wrinkles out of your tunic as you waited for someone to answer the door. It wasted no time swinging open with a force that could’ve flattened someone, had they been standing behind it.

You nearly squawked in fear. Didn’t these people know how to open a door normally?

While gripping your messenger bag, filled with a few things you had brought from home, you requested entry from the broad-shouldered man that answered. You had no trouble keeping your voice steady but your chest felt like it was being crushed under a metal boot as you faced him.

“Ah, yes. Anything for a friend of the young master!” The butler smiled warmly at you. He didn’t show any sign that he had picked up on your nervousness. Hah, you didn’t think you’d ever get over all these pairs of eyes on you each time you came.

But wait— a friend? Hadn’t you told them each and every visit that you were a gardener he hired?

You bit the edge of your lip but kept your mouth shut.

He motioned you inside. “He’s been resting. Please, let us walk you up!”

You kept your eyes trained on the velvet carpet draped on the stairs as you followed him up. The floorboards squeaked softly under your soles.

When you got upstairs, the curly-haired man stopped in front of a particular door. “Just go on in,” he instructed.

You thanked him and rapped on the door lightly.

“Gepard?”

He looked up from his paperwork hurriedly from where it was bent over the desk to the source of your voice.

“It’s me. Serval sent me over to check if you were doing alright,” you said, leaning your head closer to the wood.

Gepard’s brows knitted together.

If she really wanted to, she could have busted my door down like last time.

He switched off the lamp and got out of his chair.

You heard a croak that sounded like “coming” and winced away from the door. Eek. He must be in really bad shape.

The door opened, causing a breeze to hit your face. After not seeing his face for a month, this wasn’t how you expected your first meeting to go.

By Qlipoth’s grace—, you clapped your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from saying it out loud.

Gepard’s hair was messy and his cheeks were crimson. Locks of his golden hair covered his eyes, which were puffy and red. Better yet, he was wearing a matching set of blue and white striped pajamas. You nearly gawked. At least he wasn’t wearing his uniform if he wasn’t working.

He took in a quick breath to greet you but a harsh bout of coughing cut him off. Turning away from the door, he hacked into his elbow and tried to shut it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you wedged your buckled boot into the space between the door and the frame. That swift action shocked him out of his coughing fit.

“A-apologies, I wasn’t expecting a visit. Please step away before I give you my illness,”

“Oh! That’s why you shut the door,” Your mouth went wide. “I thought you knew the real reason why I came!”

His eyes went wide as you used your forearm to force the door open wider, a vaguely threatening gesture.

What real reason?

“Forget what I just said,” you grinned while sauntering into the room. “Anyways, my immune system is great! I used to eat dirt when food was scarce in the Underworld. It’ll take a lot more than a cold to kill me,”

“Oh my. Is— is that so?” Gepard cleared his throat, forming a fist over his mouth. He followed a few steps behind you as you went about the room.

“Yessir. I came to say hi! Nothing more. Definitely not,” You chirped, looking around his quarters (not at all suspiciously, by the way.) “How are you feeling?”

Wait, didn’t you say Serval—?

He didn’t get to finish that thought.

“Well— all right, I suppose. A little lightheaded and feverish,” his eyes trailed your form moving about. “I took some medicine earlier, and my condition has improved some. Nothing a little rest won’t fix,”

You nodded, not sparing him a glance. “Yes. Rest. Glad to see we’re on the same page here, Gepard. Hey— you moved your bamboo plant in here!” You spotted a joyful little green plant in a pot on top of his desk.

He gave you a puzzled look. Your behavior was…strange, to say the least.

“Ah, yes. I moved it because—,”

—it reminded me of you, he narrowly stopped himself from saying.

“—I read that bamboo didn’t need as much light as I was giving it, so, I figured it would be fine if I transferred it,”

You bent your knees a little to take a closer look at it. “I see. The soil looks nice. Mind if I turn on the light to take a closer look?”

“Be my guest,”

You rotated the little key that controlled the lamplight. It flicked on, spreading a warm glow onto the books and papers on the desk. A glint reflected off a dollop of ink resting on a half-written paper.

You froze. That ink is fresh.

Bristling indignantly, you whisked your head towards him. He picked up the change in mood immediately and blanched.

“I thought you said you’d been resting,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I have,” He paused, confused. “Well—,”

“AHA!” You shouted. “I gotcha! This ink is fresh, Captain. Don’t think you can fool me,” You said triumphantly, placing your hands on your hips.

“Serval— she did send you, didn’t she?!” He sputtered. The usual stoic captain was nowhere to be seen as he rubbed the back of his neck in shame.

“Yes. She did. But also I would’ve come either way to make sure you weren’t wearing yourself out,” you snorted playfully. “She said it was highly likely you were doing paperwork. And paperwork IS. NOT. REST.” You shook a finger at him accusingly.

Gepard flinched slightly. “I’m not exerting myself physically, so there’s no need to worry, (Y/N). Really,”

The air around you seemed to grow dark. You cracked your knuckles, staring him straight in the face.

“Sit down. Now,”

He obliged, choosing to plunk down on his bed.

“I know it feels like you’re wasting time doing nothing, but your mind needs to recover too,” you shook your head disapprovingly while giving him an exaggerated sigh. “You should know that,”

You pulled up a chair in front of him and took a seat, facing the window so he was looking at your side profile.

“I don’t care if you’re the most capable man on Jarilo-VI—,”

—and it was pretty likely that he was,

“You need time to rest, just like everyone else,” you lectured, opening one eye to peer at him teasingly.

“Right,” Gepard replied, defeated. He had nothing against you.

“Did you even wear the scarf I gave you out there?”

“I did, but I didn’t want to dirty it,” he replied. You gave him a snort, which quickly turned into laughter.

“Aww. That’s thoughtful of you,” you flashed him a smile. “I made it knowing I might have to make you another one though. Or three. Just let me know if it gets too damaged to wear, okay?”

Gepard looked down at his striped pajama pants, a small smile crossing his features. “Thank you. I appreciate it,”

His chest almost hurt with all the things he wanted to say trying to fight their way out.

“No problem. If anything, you deserve it,” you sang. “On the other hand, have you eaten anything today?”

“I haven’t,” he rested his head on his chin. “I don’t seem to have an appetite, unfortunately,”

“I see. You should get something in ya though. Natasha told me your body could use the energy,” you stated knowledgeably.

He tried in vain to stamp down the feelings in his chest that sprouted from seeing your concerned expression.

For him. You cared about him.

Aeons, he didn’t deserve this.

“You can ask the cooks to make you some porridge or something,” you suggested. “I have some instant stuff, but it might not be to your liking,”

“I’m sure yours will be fine,” he rebutted quickly. “I’d be happy to eat it,”

You looked at him disbelievingly. I’ve never seen someone so determined to eat instant porridge,

His face stayed just how it was, his eyebrows weighing heavily on his eyes, just like twin anvils.

“Yeah, ok,” you let up. “Do you have a kettle or anything close by?”

“I believe there is one in the kitchen that they use for tea. You can ask the maids to retrieve it for you,” he motioned to the left.

You shook your head and got up. What use was it to call a maid for a trip that merely entailed going up and down the stairs? (Well, there were a stupid number of stairs, but that’s a whole other issue).

Kettle, bowl, spoon, and cloth napkin in hand, you bolted back upstairs to your patient. You plugged the kettle in and set it down on a towel so the heat didn’t damage the furniture.

Tapping your feet while you waited for the kettle to boil, you took a quick glance around the room. It told you a lot you needed to know about Gepard.

Firstly, he was relatively neat. Of course the areas of high traffic, like the bookshelves and the desk, were messier, but they hadn’t more than a few specks of dust on them. His uniform was hanging off of a dark oak armoire, and his military medals were pinned on a cork board attached to its door.

Secondly, there were quite a few pictures hanging on the walls. There were a few of him at awards ceremonies, at various ages. And one of him as a cadet— and wow— he was pretty short back then. He stood almost a whole head shorter than the other guards. You almost squealed with delight.

You turned back to him, noticing his eyes were glued to where you were staring. Oops.

You hurriedly apologized for staring so conspicuously at the photographs, but he shook his head at the statement. Photos were meant to be looked at, after all.

This quickly led to a slew of questions he wasn’t expecting, such as “How old were you when you joined the Guards?” And “Did Serval ever threaten to bench press you?”.

He almost laughed at that one. Probably. His nose wrinkled a little. Or whatever. You figured he’d finally laugh for real once the moons collided with Jarilo-VI.

The kettle began to whistle.

“Ah, water’s boiling,” you said, turning towards the outlet where it was plugged in.

Gepard had since settled down in bed, pulling the covers over his waist. You poured the piping hot water into the bowl carefully, the steam forming curls in the air, and covered it with a lid.

After a few minutes had passed, you set the bowl on a library book from your bag (Eek. Bad idea.) as a makeshift tray and stuck a spoon in it.

“Voilà. Enjoy!” You flung your arms in the air ostentatiously as he looked onward.

Gepard took a spoonful and blew on it gingerly. You watched him with an expectant look on your face. Although whether you were expecting something good or bad, you didn’t quite know.

He lifted it to his mouth and you zeroed in on him even harder.

“It’s delicious,” he said with conviction, meeting your eyes. You squinted at him.

“Um. Gepard, I think the fever is messing with your brain. Are you sure you can taste right now?”

“I’m sure,” he responded.

“No way!” You exclaimed, slapping your forehead. “Let me try— actually, wait. That’s a bad idea,” you sighed. “I’ll just have to believe you,”

The captain nodded affirmatively. He brought another spoonful up to his mouth and relished it, feeling the warmth spread across his tongue. You swore as you watched him savor it contentedly that you’d buy some on your way home to try for yourself.

While Gepard polished off the contents of his bowl, you yammered on about various events that had happened in Belobog while he was away. You had been saving them for when you got together for real, but you figured now was just as good a time as any.

Once he had finished, he rested the spoon on the side of the ceramic bowl.

“Thank you for coming to visit me, (Y/N),” he said gently.

“Someone had to,” you laughed while kicking your feet up. “When I heard you’d been bumbling about all day, I nearly had a heart attack!”

He ran a palm over his face, closing his blue eyes. “Yes— and I’m sorry for that,”

“I didn’t want to believe her, but you guys both have a tendency to push yourself way too hard, you know?”

“By her, you mean Serval?”

You pursed your lips at him.

“That’s how the Landaus are,” he exhaled heavily, letting out a small cough he quickly covered. “It’s… our duty to bring glory to our name, after all,”

You folded your arms. “Maybe by fighting valiantly or repairing automatons, but crawling through paperwork?? I don’t think so. Secretaries that want to help you are a dime a dozen. It’s a lot easier than risking your life in the Snow Plains,” you chortled.

“You’ve probably filled your glory quota for the next two centuries, Gepard,” you glowed. “Bronya and Pela know just how hard you work. You can always ask for help,”

Gepard sighed again. (He did that a lot.) You made a good point.

“I’m sure I’ll recover in no time, thanks to all of you,” he said sincerely. You imitated the sound of an explosion while opening your fist.

“Boom. Magic porridge,”

To your surprise, this elicited a short chuff from Gepard; This caused your breath to get lost somewhere in your throat.

It felt strange seeing him so unguarded in his bedroom with his hair unkempt, in contrast to the well-polished emblem of strength shown on the recruitment posters everywhere in the Administrative District.

You folded your hands over your lap contentedly, silently thanking Serval for clueing you in today. Out of the blue, Gepard spoke up.

“When I recover, would you like to go to the Belobog History and Culture Museum with me?”

That startled you. “Really? I have been wanting to go,” you gnawed on your thumbnail hesitantly. “But are you sure? With all the stuff you have on your plate?”

“Positively,” he replied, his blue eyes capturing all of your attention. You quickly averted your eyes before your circuits overheated. “Volunteers can bring in one guest for free. I… know we haven’t had too many chances to spend time together because we’re both busy, but I figured I’d make an offer anyhow,”

You didn’t catch the last half of that sentence over the sound of a train whistling in your ears.

This should be illegal.

Is he even hearing himself right now?? To— to spend time together?? If I wasn’t super-duper ultra perceptive, I’d think he—,

You clamped your hands on your cheeks (internally, of course) to still yourself, while the rest of you stared straight ahead.

Oh dear,

“Sure!” You blurted out, stiff as a statue.

Smooth, (Y/N).

Fortunately for you, an alert from your phone jostled you out of your internal minefield. You flipped it open while trying to expel far too many thoughts from your mind at once.

It was Serval. You popped into your messages app to see what she had sent— and in true Serval fashion— she had sent the most mind-boggling, disorienting message possible.

From: Serval at 13:44

S: how’s he doing? did u get there alright?

S: ahh you’re probably busy.

S: tuck him in for me, will u?

You nearly spit out your drink. Gepard blinked at you.

You— you can’t just SAY something like that, you cried internally. Not when my feelings are all messed up! I should get out of here before this gets any worse,

“Is something the matter?”

You sighed, long and heavy. “There’s always something, isn’t there?”

He made no move to make any inquiries.

“Anywho, I guess I should take my leave now,” you spoke, reaching down to pick up your messenger bag off the floor and rising from your seat. “before I keep you up any longer. Take it easy, okay?”

“Ah— yes,” he replied, not letting the disappointment leak into his voice. He wondered about the sudden change in mood, but he didn’t want to pry if it would cause you discomfort.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,”

You smiled warmly at him.

“Good,”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Even though you had left with the reasoning that you didn’t want to keep him awake, Gepard was anything but tired.

His strict internal clock as a soldier was probably to blame. A sigh echoed throughout the room. It was way too quiet now. And the velvet curtains absorbed any sound too weak to escape them.

He had to do something to keep his mind active. Maybe reading, perhaps? But the only books he had on his bookshelf were on war strategy and history. Both of which were related to his job.

How about drawing?

Now, that didn’t sound too bad.

He got out of bed and picked up a pencil, a spare piece of paper, and the floriography manual you lent him, off of his desk to use as a hard surface. As he settled into his mattress, he peered out the window one last time. He spotted a familiar green beret against the tan limestone bouncing way faster than necessary down the steps leading to the plaza.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Well, time to get started,

❆ — ❆ — ❆

You sat in the break room of the florist’s, reading the latest edition of Automatons Weekly while waiting patiently for the porridge you had bought from the grocers to finish absorbing the water.

Vaska sat across from you, drinking floral tea while flipping through Tales 2. You’d prepared a bowl of porridge for her as well, just a different flavor. Hers had flecks of green and black in it, and it smelled quite good. Rather savory, in your opinion. The one you had gotten Gepard was the plain kind.

They had a surprising amount of flavors of porridge specifically at the grocers, like cinnamon, coconut, banana, whatever. It was honestly overwhelming. The fact they spent so much time curating the porridge aisle was weird, considering they didn’t have anything worth buying from the Underworld. But nonetheless.

After lifting the lids and seeing that the grains were sufficiently cooked, you both dipped your spoons in and shoveled them in your mouth.

“Blech!” Vaska said, coughing her mouthful into a napkin. “It tastes like soap,” You looked at her wordlessly as you swallowed yours.

You pondered for a moment.

“You know… I think I’ve had dirt more flavorful,” you said, bursting into loud laughter. “And how exactly do you know what soap tastes like?”

Vaska gave you a look loaded with venom.

“Whatever. You up for some cookies?” You shrugged.

She snickered, cracking open the door to the sweets cabinet in response, and fished out a jar of Meg’s famous chocolate brownie cookies.

Well, so much for that plan.

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

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abiiors · 1 year ago

Note

A small little blurb of Matty taking care of sick reader on a cold rainy day. (Im totally not sick and I’m totally not projecting)

because ik sicktember ‘23 is happening, i just thought i would use their prompt for today "sick in an inconvenient place"

hope you feel better soon, babe. sending you hugs <33

walking into work today was a bad idea. fuck, getting out of bed in the first place was an even worse idea. perhaps the worst one ever or so you’re convinced now that you sit at your desk shivering and sweating simultaneously.

for some reason, cool air blasts out of the ac. the temperature is set so low that the whole area feels like a walk-in freezer. and then there’s the torrential rain outside on top of everything.

you know, despite having an umbrella you will be drenched by the time you make it to the bus stop. and just the thought of being cold and damp while you feel like you're on the verge of death, makes you want to burst into tears.

another sniffle from you. another glare from the new guy sitting across from you and you decide enough is enough.

matty :( is the only thing you need to text him before he’s calling you within thirty seconds.

in the background, you hear the same pitter-patter of rain, muffled and drowned out by other sounds and the riff of a guitar here or there. but it’s very much present. very persistent.

“what’s wrong, darling?” he asks as soon as you pick up.

when you pathetically sniffle some more, you hear him move. a door opens, then closes and the sounds behind him vanish.

“hello?” he asks again, “you there?”

“i feel like shit,” you croak out. maybe you even speak for the first time that day because you surely don’t remember your voice sounding this dull and hoarse.

“no shit,” he sighs. “you don’t sound all that well…”

“i don’t feel all that well…” you rub your face tiredly, massaging your achy temples. it’s only 3 in the afternoon. you still have 3 more hours of work to go.

“can you pick me up? please i can’t, i feel so shocking, i–”

“sweetheart,” he interrupts. “go tell your manager you’re leaving. i’ll be there in fifteen.”

—

and he is there in fifteen as promised. his car is parked as close to the curb as possible and matty stands next to the open door holding out an umbrella, and holding out his other hand for your bag.

the sight fills your entire body with relief, even as you watch him get half-drenched trying to hold the umbrella above your head, shielding you from any stray droplets. once you’re safely in the car, he closes the door, running to the other side to get in and tossing both your bag and the wet umbrella onto the backseat before he fully focuses his attention on you.

matty tuts in sympathy. “oh you do look awful…”

you roll your eyes, annoyed and weirdly emotional but as soon as his cool hand touches your forehead, half of it melts away.

“you’re really warm,” he frowns, bringing the same cool hand to your cheek and checking again. “lets get you home, okay? you’re practically falling asleep here.”

“i’m just really cold,” you complain in a small voice, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater like a small child. it makes him smile.

“i’ll turn the ac off,” he says and leans over to press a kiss on your head.

the car is mercifully warm after that and even though the chills are still there, at lease there’s no cold air blasting in your face. you know he must be uncomfortably warm under the flannel he’s wearing but the drive only lasts another ten minutes before you’re rounding onto the familiar street and stopping in the driveway of your home.

matty turns around to get the umbrella again, stopping halfway to press another kiss, this time on your cheek, and hurries out the door to come to your side. you coax your achy body to move, to get prepared to make a dash inside. but the most you manage is a wobble up to the front door followed by wheezing and groaning.

matty’s face falls in sympathy. “aww, c’mere baby,” he coos, letting you burrow your face into his chest while he unlocks the front door. he tries his hardest to walk like that, to let you stay close to him and steal some of his body heat while he gets your stuff inside.

“can you tell me what hurts?”

“everything,” you whine, “my head, my body. my throat hurts a bit too.”

setting the things aside, matty cradles your face, bringing you both to the sofa to sit you down.

“no more moving for you okay?” he speaks into your hair, seeing as how your face is once again tucked into his chest. “gonna take care of you.”

you nod, closing your eyes and breathing in his comforting scent.

“now how about you lay down. i’ll get you some stuff and we can just relax and cuddle for a bit. does that sound good?”

and you only need to nod once again to convey that it sounds absolutely fantastic.

#✉️#♤: matty blurbs #matty healy x reader

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year ago

Text

Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader) Part 5

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Chapter Four: Of Stone and Scales

Previous | Next

Warnings: Descriptions of illness and pain, allusions to crying and fevers, coughing, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ “What a conundrum this is…” Through the haze and smoke of your fever comes a gentle press against your forehead, the touch of soft and delicate hands ghosting over your skin like a butterfly’s wings. They’re cold- too cold, at first, and you flinch away- but the chill turns soothing against the heat of your sickness, and you let out an instinctive sigh of relief as the neverending pain recedes, even just slightly. The same careful touch holds the back of your head and lifts it upwards, prompting you to sip from a small ceramic bowl. You comply without a thought, barely tasting the sharp bitterness of the liquid as it slides down your throat, and those wonderfully gentle hands settle your head back down onto a plush pillow before pulling away. Your brow furrows as panic rises in your chest, wanting desperately to reach for and take hold of this singular moment of comfort, to bask in its sunshine forever. Please, stay. “Honestly, what were they thinking, bringing a mortal from Teyvat to the Abyss? The elemental whiplash…” A steady voice cuts through your distress like a knife, and the knot in your stomach unravels. Just barely you can place the sound of footsteps on wood, delicate clinks of glass and pottery, and dried leaves being crushed together. “…It’s enough to make an Adeptus seriously ill, much less a human.” In the sludge of your consciousness you open your mouth to speak, only to fail and let out a few awful, wracking coughs. Fail… yes. That’s all you seem to do now. The murmurings pause, soft taps of shoes growing a bit louder, and a cool hand rests on your arm, now speaking directly to you, “Rest, my friend… you’ll need your strength.” They squeeze your arm; once, twice, and what little vision you have fades as you drift down into a murky ocean of silence. A child laughs, her swing creaking, and a tiny green flower blooms from your fingertips. Everything blurs together as you return to nothingness. It’s the light that you sense first, shining through your closed eyes and filling the void with colors. You groan, shifting and pulling the covers over your ears in an earnest attempt to snatch a few more minutes of sleep, the bed cushioning your sore, aching joints. But the light merely shines brighter, birds twittering and giggling at your plight, and with a hiss of annoyance you relent to their joyous whims. Your eyes crack open and stare into the morning Harbor sun. With a gasp you fling yourself into a sitting position, only to double over as you cough and hack, tears springing to your eyes from the force, breath coming out as sharp wheezes. “Ah, you’re awake- Oh dear.” Someone hurries into the room to sit beside you, pressing a hand to your back and rubbing it up and down. “Let it out, my friend, you’ll feel much better afterwards.”

You take the advice in stride, coughing and coughing until your head spins and your shoulders shake and you’re absolutely sure that you’re going to faint- but you don’t, and slowly the coughs fade away until you can breathe, gratefully inhaling a lungful of air. “There… how do you feel?” You turn and blink in surprise for what seems like the hundredth time this week, gaze landing on a familiar, green-haired figure. “D… Dr. Baizhu?” His snakeish eyes shine with delight, golden and amber and fire-colored, “Ah, you remember me! Good, that means your mental faculties are intact, at the very least.” “How couldn’t I?” You let out a laugh, hoarse but happy. “You’re the best pharmacist in Liyue! Zhongli talks about you all the time- he always recommends your herbal remedies if I have a sore throat.” Baizhu chuckles quietly, “He does, does he? Well, I certainly won’t disagree with him on that.” The jewels hanging from his glasses glimmer, and you have to stifle the urge to reach out and bat at them like a cat. There’s a squeaky yawn from a table across the room, and Baizhu glances towards the sound with a smile, “Ah, Changsheng.” He walks to the table, picking up a scaly white bundle in his arms. “I don’t think you two have met. This is Changsheng, my treasured companion- Changsheng, say hello to our guest.” The sleepy little snake raises her head, and you give her a small, hesitant wave. “Ah,” You jump slightly at her voice, her tongue flicking towards your hand. “This one is sick, aren’t they?” Baizhu nods, eyes darkening, “Yes, they are.” He sits beside you again, Changsheng slithering up to his shoulders and peering at you curiously. “Your mind seems to be undamaged, but…” he sighs. “…I am uncertain about the rest of you.” You stiffen, fingers weakly curling into your blanket, “Dr. Baizhu… What exactly happened to me? Why am I in Liyue? And why-” You’re abruptly cut off by a cough, and Baizhu hurriedly pats your back.

“The short story is that the energy and atmosphere of the Abyss caused you to fall ill,” he explains carefully. “Mortals of Teyvat and the Abyss do not mix- it’s an entirely foreign land to us, and the sudden change between above and below was too much for your body.” Baizhu’s expression turns grim, “The stress of your particular situation also did nothing to help.” “Oh,” You swallow thickly, your throat like sandpaper, then straighten your back with some effort. “What’s the cure, doctor?” “Rest, mostly. Preferably somewhere familiar and nonthreatening.” Baizhu smiles, a small pair of fangs peeking over his lips. “And please, call me Baizhu.” He sighs, quietly, “You’re quite lucky that you were only down there for a few days, my dear. Give it a week, and I likely wouldn’t have been able to save you.” You glance up curiously, “That reminds me, er- how did I get back to Liyue, exactly? Did someone have to drag my unconscious body up here?” “Ah, well-” “Your Highness!” The door bursts open, and Enjou ducks his head to float into the room. “Are you alright?! I apologize for not coming to your aid sooner, I fell asleep.” “Enjou?!” Your mouth hangs open in shock, then you burst into laughter that quickly devolves into coughing. “You- ahem- you brought me here?” “That he did.” Baizhu nods, holding you as you hack out a lung. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see an Abyss Lector at my door, especially not at 1 AM.” “I am sorry about that.” Enjou bows his head. “It was an urgent matter, doctor.” “My dear sir, there’s no need to apologize! I’m very glad you got here when you did.” Enjou nods, hovering beside Baizhu, a bit awkward and out of place. He’s still wearing his glasses, you notice, and take a few quick glances between the Lector and the pharmacist. They almost mirror each other, in a way, with their glasses and elegance and worry for you.

“So, when do you think I can take them back to the Abyss?” Enjou breaks the silence after a few moments, and Changsheng lets out a low hiss. Baizhu clicks his tongue and shakes his head, gently stroking Changsheng’s scales, “Not for a while, I’m afraid. This whole situation is, frankly, a mess.” He gives Enjou a stern look over the top of his glasses. “They will need at least a couple of weeks to recuperate, and no less.” The Lector nods silently, his warm glow filling the room, “I will… see what I can do. The others of the Court are not going to like this.” “Enjou,” your voice is soft and scratchy. “I don’t want to die.” His tear-shaped eyes gleam kindly, and he delicately pats your shoulder with his claws, “You won’t, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the other members of the Court- they might be old fools, but they’re not entirely unreasonable.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’ll agree with the old fool part.” Suddenly there’s a few quick knocks on the pharmacy door, and Baizhu tilts his head over his shoulder, “Ah, I might know who that is…” His quiet footsteps trail away, leaving you and Enjou in the bright, sunlit room, and you stare at the beams of light filtering through the windows. You’ve forgotten how beautiful it is, to see the dust float in the sun, casting patterns onto the floor, the comfort of being home warming your aching bones. The room smells of sweet flowers and bitter herbs and mint, and your eyes slide shut as you inhale, just barely able to catch the scent of rain and lilies from outside, splashes of bright colors dancing and swirling about. Familiarity washes over you, and you smile. “I should apologize for earlier,” Enjou’s voice pulls you out of your daydream, and you look up at him curiously. “I called you “Your Highness” in my panic over your state. I am sorry.” The Lector bows to you deeply as he speaks, somehow making himself seem smaller despite being twice your height. “Oh, it’s okay! To be honest, I was too busy choking to notice.” You smile tiredly. “Thank you… thank you for remembering, though. And for bringing me here. And for being nice to me.” Your thoughts spill from your mouth, one by one, a swift current rushing down a river.

“But of course! It is my honor to assist you, truly.” Enjou’s aura flares a bit brighter at your words. “And if it is of any help, I also apologize for my colleagues’ behavior so far. Including the Prince’s.” His voice lowers to a hiss. “He despises this as much as you do, but that is no excuse to treat you so poorly.” You feel your cheeks grow warm- warmer than they already are- and quickly cast your gaze to the blanket, thoughts tangled and muddled together, “Thanks, Enjou.” is all you can mumble, the thought of Tartaglia sending a fresh stab of fear and anger into your heart, your fists tightening around the fabric of your covers. “My dear,” Baizhu calls from the hallway, poking his head in with a satisfied smile, and the harsh fire in your chest dies down to an ember. “You have visitors.” As soon as he speaks a brown and crimson blur rushes towards you, dashing past Enjou and leaping onto your bed, “YOU NINCOMPOOP!!!” Hu Tao throws her familiar arms around you, already bawling her eyes out. “The first time I let you go somewhere without me and you almost end up dead! I may be a funeral parlor director, but your funeral isn't one I want to plan anytime soon!” Her grip tightens as she sobs into your shoulder, signature hat tumbling to the ground. “I didn’t exactly plan it!” You gasp through her stifling squeezes. “It just sort of… happened.” Your own hug feels weak and frail in comparison to hers, even more so than usual, and Hu Tao slaps her hands onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “That is no excuse! Swear to me that you won’t die! Promise! Pinkie promise!” “Okay, okay! I promise!” Your head spins as she abruptly stops shaking you to look you right in the eyes, her fiery pupils filled with flowers and tears. “Good! And you better keep that promise, or else I won’t have anyone to sample my cooking or watch me destroy Xingqiu in poetry!” Hu Tao grins at you, but her eyes are dead serious, and you gulp nervously and nod. “And YOU!” Her head snaps towards Enjou. “You’re one of those creeps that took my best friend away! Why, I ought to lock you in a coffin and-” “Hu Tao!” You grab her arm, half coughing and half giggling. “He’s a friend, too, I swear!”

“Really?” She observes Enjou up and down, from the tips of his crown-like horns to his feet hovering off the ground. “Hmph, if you say so… but I’m keeping an eye on you!” Enjou raises his hands helplessly as she glares, glancing from you to Hu Tao and back again pleadingly, and you muffle a snicker. “She’s not the only one,” A deep, smooth voice emits from the doorway and you perk up, a wide smile spreading across your face as you meet Zhongli’s gaze, his presence casting a blanket of calm serenity over the room. “I will also be watching you closely, Lector.” Enjou straightens his back and bows, “Ah, hello Mor-” “Zhongli. Just Zhongli.” The man in question strides over, sitting in a chair by your bedside, long legs elegantly crossed. “I’m glad to see you are alright, little one,” Zhongli murmurs. “Well, mostly alright.” “It’s nice to see you too, Zhongli,” you whisper, and his gloved hands brush over yours to hold them firmly, heavy and comforting like the stones of Liyue Harbor. The corners of his lips are just barely turned up, but his draconic eyes glitter with warmth- for a moment, he almost appears tearful, but it quickly settles into pride and relief. “Gah, quit hogging, old man!” Hu Tao quickly latches onto your other arm, plopping her chin onto your shoulder with a pout. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with them while I’m busy helping our clients!” “He will?” You crane your head towards Hu Tao, blinking in confusion. “Of course, silly-billy! Baizhu says that you have to stay and recover for at least a few weeks- right, doc?” She glances up as the bespectacled pharmacist moves to stand beside Zhongli, and both he and Changsheng nod. “It’d be best for your health, my dear.” “Oh,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling lighter than air. “That’s good, then.” Like the flick of a switch you fall back into a familiar routine, Hu Tao launching into a detailed play-by-play of what you missed while you were withering away in the Abyss, including her rap battle with Xingqiu and Captain Beidou taking everyone out for a joyride on the Alcor- not that it was very joyful without you, she insists. You bite your tongue to stifle a laugh when she goes off on a tangent about how Yanfei dropped her enormous law book on her foot when she received news of your departure- “Nothing broke, but it sure felt like something did!”- and Zhongli lets out a low chuckle at the funeral parlor director’s antics, a hand on your back in case you start coughing again. At some point Enjou tilts his head and excuses himself, bowing once to you and once more to the rest of the room before floating away like crackling fire.

Hu Tao sticks her tongue out as he leaves, and you flick her on the forehead, movements still clumsy from sickness. “Oh, and you have to come to Wuwang Hill with me and Chongyun! I’ve heard that there are some departed souls still hanging around, so I want to-” “Director,” Zhongli’s calming voice breaks through her chatter. “It may be best to wait until they’re feeling a little bit better.” You nod sheepishly, “Sorry, Hu Tao. I don’t think I could make it to the Harbor entrance right now, much less Wuwang Hill.” “Aww.” Hu Tao looks sulky, tugging at the ends of her long pigtails. “But the city’s sooo boring! I’m sure we can work something out-” “Excuse me.” Enjou hurries back into the room, and Hu Tao puffs out her cheeks, annoyed at being interrupted again. “I know this is most likely a bad time, but…” The Lector hesitates, and you frown in concern. “But what, Enjou?” He sighs and meets your gaze, reluctant and apologetic, “His Highness is here. He wishes to speak with his spouse.”

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credince--writes · 11 months ago

Text

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 7

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N: Womp Womp Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire

The sun was hot on his face, glaring down and heating the sand crusted onto the exposed skin of his face. The sky was clear- no moisture- not a cloud in sight.

Keegan was in the desert.

He was in his own personal hell.

Sandviper.

His eyes glanced down to his hands, filthy in dark red tones and crusted over too many times to count with layers of filth and flesh, blood, and dirt. Driven so deep into the crevices of his flesh that he wasn’t sure where the filth ended and his skin started.

There’s a dull blade grasped in his hand.

A man leaps from over a pile of sand- knife drawn throwing his body forward ready to fight to the death. Keegan bares his teeth like a rabid dog. Because that is all he is. A wild animal, ready to bite and tear flesh, feels the splatter of blood against his skin. The dust crusted onto his disgusting form and built upon it like a trophy.

The warmth of the blood soothed his chilled skin in the cold desert nights, and cooled his skin in the hot daylight sun. The blood tacking up, soiling the dusty sand under him. Ponds of blood against the dirty yellow sand.

He’s grinning, knife dug into the neck of the man below him. Twisting his knife until the viscera of blood pops in a horrible, twisting, snapping, and schlepping of tendons veins and gore. Flicking the dulled blade as he’d done what? At least seven times that night, he looks up to see the sky has turned dark. The full moon illuminating the hellscape he’d metamorphosed from.

Your corpse, torn open with brute force and dull metal, staring up at him with tears running down dirty cheeks.

Eyes unfocused up at him, cloudly, dead.

And God, do they look beautiful shimmering in the moonlight. The warmth pooling from your neck warming this tips of his fingers- reaching in to cup the wound. Hold it in-

Please-

He’s sitting on the couch next to the window, dozing as the afternoon sun radiates against his face.Jolting forward and wheezing, lungs screaming and heart rate pounding in his ears. He glances down, to assess his hands and frowns at the dark smudges of dirt against his knuckles. Mentally chastising himself as he closed his fist and squeezed, nails pushing in against his palm in a near-satisfying twinge of pain. Keegan was angry at himself in a way he had trouble defending. Here he lay, on a couch in some woman’s home after getting injured. Stranded without contacting his team- he was sure that Logan would be worried sick over the lack of his check-ins.

And here he was sunning himself, content and full, like some kind of civilian. He’s not. As much as he could play- he is just a rabid dog, looking for its next hunk of flesh to tear into. Your eyes, dull, unfocused.

He needed to leave.

He needed to get his radio working- or at least get back into contact with base to let the other Ghosts know he was alive. Lurching forward, forearms against his thighs he leans as far as he can until the creak in his ribs almost forces a whine from his lips. As subtle as he can, leaning back and resting his head against the cushion.

He needed to get out.

The more he thought of hiking his ass out and away, he found his eyes trailing over to the window.

Then trailing over to you.

He frowned, forcing himself to stand before rubbing his fingers against his temples.

He needed to leave.

He was a soldier.

He had a mission.

This was no time for weakness.

And that's how you found him. Standing in the center of the room fully kitted back up- vest pulled back over his bruised chest, his pants with freshly mended holes from the wear and tear they took out in the woods. The same clothes you’d found him in and peeled off of his cold body- mended together, washed, and hung out on the line.

It almost felt like an insult, staring back at him dressed in his gear. You’d mended him back together, and he would just…

Leave?

“Where is my mask?”

His voice was cold.

Detached.

So far from the soft and meek mumbles in his sleep, the breathy moans of pain as you lifted his back off of the floor and sat him up as you fed him.

“I’m leaving.” Your brother spoke, detached and cold as he turned on his heel and left.

“You can’t!” You yelled, hand gripped onto the doorframe as he picked up his bag and a jerrycan of fuel. The tips of your fingers screaming against the pressure on the wood, joints creaking. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I can’t just sit here and hide anymore!” Your brother lashed out, screaming- the rasp in his throat as the words cracked like thunder against the quiet of the field.

The chickens startled.

“Then let me come with you-” You begged.

You pleaded.

You wept. “I won’t risk it.” He bit back. “You’ll be a liability.” Was he right?

Were you a liability?

Could you face the consequences of your existence? Of your choices?

“I-..” You paused, hand releasing from the doorframe and dropping to your side.

“I’ll be back soon. I just- I have to see. The fires, they mean something.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

And he left.

Without looking back.

He needed to compartmentalize. Put this fucking cabin in a little box, and lock it up and stick it somewhere it’ll never be opened up again. There was an ache in his ribs that wasn’t from the injury- a tightness in his throat as he pulled on the armor, his second skin.

His armor.

His hand reached up, not yet donning his gloves, and rubbed the side of his face. Feeling the stubble long since grown out, feeling wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be there- that long. At least it shouldn’t be- he shouldn’t be in this situation.

He took a deep breath.

It would be fine. He needed to get out of this damned cabin- he needed to get his gloves on, mask on, toss his gear over his shoulder even if he body screamed against it. He needed to get out and get a radio and get out of here-

His mask-

His mask?

Where is his mask?

He rummaged- looking as quietly and efficiently as possible for the damned thing while you weren’t paying attention. Stalking room to room with silent footsteps and sharp eyes. Hand hovering over the knob to your bedroom, staring.

Debating.

He’d-

Well.

Maybe?

No.

He’d rather rip his arm off than be caught dead rummaging through your bedroom- Rather poke out his eyes than cross a boundary like that, even if there was the possibility of you stowing it away in there.

He’d just have to ask-

“Where’s my mask?” He’d slipped into this before- the body of a soldier. Maybe he never really left it- he was what he was after all.

A Ghost.

Ghosts can’t change, they are what they are. The remnant of what someone once was,

Is,

Could’ve been.

But deep down, the tone of his voice surprised him- the change- it ripped away any warmth that he’d clung too. Anything he’d foolishly accepted thinking that it could become the norm.

He didn’t deserve it anyways.

“You’re leaving.” Your voice was quiet. Small.

Small like you.

Fragile.

Frail.

Small.

He simply nodded, silent.

You shrunk back, stepping to the side and striding across the building. Tearing open the door to your room- the sound of something clattering against the floor. And in a flurry- you rushing out and throwing the piece of fabric at him. The threads spreads across his fingertips, tilting the mask to the side- where the paint was starting to fade, where a rock had torn through the fabric and stabbed into his skin.

Fresh stitches mending the fabric together.

"I just..." You trailed off.

"Want to make sure he's ok?" Keegan finished.

"Yea." You nodded. "Or at least have some closure. Sometimes just knowing- as much as it'd hurt. To know he is dead, would be better than to wait- to expect."

"I'll help you." His voice was soft- quiet. As if his words came out just above a whisper.

"Why?" You questioned.

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

“Yes.” He breathes out- shattering the semblance of control he had on his firm, cold tone.

Your eyes are like fury- hatred, malice. Pain. “You promised.” You say it with such a conviction he nearly flinches back. Blinking once, twice- anger and bile rising back up in his throat.

Could you not see he was saving you? Blessing you? Fulfilling your stupid little promise? “I never said you’d come with me.” He replied.

He was saving you from him.

He can see the glassy haze on your eyes, putrid, vile, hatred.

The glint of your cloudy eyes against the moonlight. Gritty sand trapped in your eyelashes.

He pulls the mask over his face, and leaves without looking back.

#call of duty #deep in those woods #Keegan russ #Keegan p. Russ #keegan p. russ x reader #keegan russ x reader

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callofdudes · 2 years ago

Note

I know you have a temporary writers block at the moment but I wanted to leave this here.

I thought about could you do the alone mission form mw2 but add a y/n point of view as well

Platonic please

I'm slowly making my way through my inbox and trying to get everything out. But I have been working on this for a hot minute @itsscromp 🫡

A/N: This will replay the Alone mission from your perspective. I have included a majority of Soap and Ghost' s dialogue, some being repurposed and such. The mission won't be 100% accurate as some details I'm foggy on, but please enjoy regardless. And spoilers for the Alone mission I guess??

This is so long... Oh my gosh.

Just over 10K words, so buckle up.

CW: Blood, violence, heavy swearing, near death, still calling you Cobra 🐍

Everything was a blur. Your adrenaline spikes, and you remember your body being thrown from the moving truck. Graves curses angrily when you slam the door open and tumble out. Your body slams against the asphalt. Pain spreads through your limbs as you tumble and roll down into the ditch.

You roll over twigs and branches that scrape and drag across your skin. Your body crashes into a tree in the dirt, leaving you shaking.

You pant. You hear the truck stop along the road. You force your breath in and lay as still in the slick mud as possible.

You pray that you won't be found.

Graves starts yelling and cussing.

"Why weren't you watching them!?"

"Let them go! They won't make it out alive on their own anyway." He orders his men back in the car, and the tires pick up back across the road.

You wheeze. Alejandro. They still had Alejandro.

Your lungs compress and ignite like flames, each breath hard and forced.

You pick up your aching body and crawl out of the ditch. Your wrists ache, still zip tied together. You reach up and press your comm. "Soap?? Ghost?? Can either of you hear me??" You wheeze and coughed.

The commlink crackles and your spirits rise.

"Cobra! This is Soap, how copy?"

Relief floods your body. "Stable. Currently crawling in a ditch down the road-" You cough. "Where's your location?"

"A town just a couple miles from here. Meet me there."

You struggle with the your sore hands. "Copy that."

You stand yourself up on your knees and rise to your feet. The rain chills your body, the moonlight being your only guide. Your vision blurs momentarily, blood rushing through your ears. You shake your head quickly and stagger forward.

You walk back up the road to the shootout and look down into the brush. That must have been where Johnny went. You hop down and trek the sticky mud. All the while struggling with your knife. You needed to get this stupid zip tie off but it was proving a bit more difficult in your shaky form.

About halfway through the walk your commlink crackles again.

"Sergeant how copy?" The voice is deeper and makes your insides loosen with reassurance.

"Ghost! I'm headed for Soap."

"Alright sergeant. That town is crawling with shadows. Soap is hidden inside one of the first shops you'll see, to your left. go straight there."

"Copy that."

You slid down a slope and came upon the darkened town. Definitely abandoned and silent. Everyone must be in hiding.

You notice the first building had a faint light on and a sign above the door. You look both ways before making a break for it. You struggle with the wet door handle. It jiggles and pulls but you can't quite grab it.

"Soap- it's me!" You attempt to whisper yell through the door.

The door is pushed open and Soap rushes out, his gun knocking against your jugular. "Easy- easy-"

Johnny looks both ways before pulling you back inside. "Hells bells you scared me!" He scolds.

"Apologies. I couldn't get the door open." You raise your hands to show him your predicament. "That's alright." Johnny pulls out his knife and slices it down between your wrists and snaps the zip tie.

"I thought Graves got you? I was worried."

"I jumped from the truck."

Johnny opens his arms and pulls you in tightly. "You crazy bastard."

You chuckle. And then you notice his arm. "Soap, are you ok?"

Johnny hums. "Oh! That, yeah, just a bullet wound. I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. Just look at yer self."

Johnny grabs a lamp and points it across your body. In the darkness you could feel the damage but were unsure of what damage that was. Your pants are tearing at the knees and blood is starting to stain deep through your pant leg. Your arms are clearly going to bruise and you are starting to shake more violently.

"If you need a stim I'm sure we can find one."

You shudder and shake your head. "No, I'll be fine. I just want to get us in and out."

"Luckily Ghost will help. Not like he didn't leave us- I still don't know how he got to the church in the half the time I did."

You shrug. "He IS the Ghost."

Johnny nods. "Speaking of..." *He presses down his comm. "Ghost. Cobra has reached my position. Awaiting further instructions."

You wring out your wrists anxiously.

"Shadows are swarming the grounds. Our best option is to split up."

"Split us up!? What-" Johnny claps his hand over your mouth. You grab his forearm and quickly shut up. Johnny releases you after a moment and consults his comms. "Lt, is splitting us up the best idea?"

"Two soldiers together are more noticable than one."

"Are you injured?" Ghost asks again, referring to you. You huff, "I'm not a medic."

"Tell me something I don't know."

You look at Johnny who chews on Ghost's words for a moment. "You ok to go on your own?"

"Anything to get out alive." You reply.

Johnny clicks his comm again. "Alright Lt. What do we do?"

"Keep your blood in, you'll need every drop."

"Thanks for the tip. Where are you?" Johnny asks.

"There's a church. I'm heading to it. Let's RV there. You'll need to improvise to survive."

"Get Cobra suited up. No doubt Graves confiscated your weapons?" Ghost questions.

You search your person, only finding your Glock at the front of your armor. "Stripped."

"I ain't got much to work with here either Lt."

"Just get out there and worry about not getting killed then. You know protocol."

Johnny looks up at you and nods. "See you on the other side?"

"You'd be stupid to think I'm going anywhere."

You two shake on it. Johnny checks the windows and gives you the go-ahead. You slip out the front door into the night. Watery lights drift through the rain. Old buildings cast black shadows and remains of life.

You slip around a corner, still trying to shake the impending exhaustion of your fall. You turn on your comm. and listen to the sound of Soap and Ghost's voices. Ghost was focusing on Johnny, leaving you to assume the coast was clear and keep moving. Thank goodness it was.

Usually, soldiers were mindless enough to talk to each other loud enough to hear, but risking your chances wasn't an option.

You slip into another house and sweep through the interior. The upstairs bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living room. No signs of any better gun or any ammunition.

You walk back down the stairs, your knee buckling on the last step, sending you tumbling into the wall. Your hand moves out and you manage to catch yourself before your face had a nice meeting with said wall.

You pant, your leg spasming before settling down again.

"Cobra how copy?" Ghost questions.

"Solid. Just tripped."

"Don't give away your position."

"Affirmative sir."

You pull yourself back up and step out of the house and back into the rain.

You walk up to the edge of the building, your blood freezing at the sound of a vehicle's tires against the wet pavement. You fall back, slamming against the wall in a panic to hide.

"There's a truck." Johnny says over the comm.

"Two men." He whispers moments later. You slide around the corner just enough to faintly see the men. Their voices clear as day.

"Any sign of 'em?" One of them asked, looking around.

You hide again, trying to calm your racing heartbeat and force your breathing down.

"Not yet. Check everywhere, assume they're alive and dangerous..." A second soldier replies.

"Let's hope not. That's a shitstorm we don't need." Comes the voice of the first.

"They were ordered to stand down and they didn't."

"I don't like where this is goin', man... It's not right. These are 141 guys..."

"They don't write their own rules..."

"Do we...? Who the fuck is in charge here?"

"Whoever signs our fuckin' checks, that's who." The first soldier replies again before going quiet.

You shudder out a breath, feeling your knee start to ache again. You move across the street and hide in the shadow of one of the buildings. The rain conceals your sublet movements.

"Graves is here." Johnny's voice comes. "Looks pissed. He's on my side but keep it low."

You slip into another house, stomach flipping at the sight of a woman pushed off her chair with a bullet in her head.

"Copy that." You mutter as you continue.

You searche the cupboards and stairs. More ammunition but no sign of a gun. With any luck you could take out a Shadow and steal his.

You look up at the sound of a far gunshot, sidearm at the ready.

"Graves and Shadow are on a killing spree."

You shudder. You could only imagine. You hear footsteps outside the home and voices. You duck under one of the windows and flick the blinds up just enough with your finger to see the same two Shadow soldiers passing by.

"Looking for Hassan." Ghost replies to Johnny.

"Hassan and us." You mutter. You reach for the door handle and gently open the front door. The two soldiers were still talking even as you approached their backsides.

Your heart pounds, fear drawing up through your chest and locking in your movements. You grab one man, your hand clasping over his mouth. The second soldier turning just as you shoot his partner through the back.

Before he could shoot you throw his dead partner's weight his way and shoot him in the face.

You get down in the rain, bare knees stinging on the tarmac. You rip open their vests, happy to find a much better gun at his hip and a stim in his vest.

"Fucking hell..."

"Keep in there Johnny. Just keep moving." You say, hands shaky as you use the stim.

"Advise both of you move interior if you're not already. It's good cover." Ghost says.

You stand from the shadows and work your way back over to their abandoned vehicle for cover. Over the hood of the car you can see Johnny slipping inside an open garage.

"Any luck?" You ask.

"No joy... Door's locked."

"Shit. New plan?" You slip over the hood of the car and give Johnny a thumbs up.

"Look for supplies- things you can make tools with. Welcome to guerrilla warfare..."

"I'm not liking it so far."

"You aren't supposed to."

"Thanks, lieutenant." You grumble. You turn to go around the opposite way Johnny went when you hear him shudder.

"Creepin'..."

"What are you seein'?" You ask, wondering if it was safe to move.

"A bloodbath." Johnny replies.

"Watch your arse.. You got exactly zero allies down there..."

"Cobra, get a move on. I have a feeling those Shadows around to come around again. Stick with Soap for the time being."

You slip around the hood of the truck. You run to where you'd seen Johnny and your eyes land on the sight before you, stomach churning again. Johnny is untangling a rope away from a man's feet who is already long deceased.

Johnny looks up when he sees you at six. "We're friends, no..?" You nod and come around to his side to inspect his work.

You start to look around the laundry room, looking for anything you were missing.

"Teammates Johnny. Friendships not in the field manual."

"Neither is mask making." You grin, finding an old ceiling fan and breaking off one of the blades.

Johnny couldn't help a small chuckle at your reply. He comes over to you with the rope and nods.

"Rope and a fan blade. Could work as a weapon??"

"I don't think so. Might gash someone's throat but in no way could do any other kind of damage."

You shrug. He was right.

"Tie off the blade with the rope and pry open the door." Ghost instructed.

"Sounds like you've done this before..." You hold on to the fan blade and follow Johnny back toward the garage.

"Years of practice..."

"Maybe when we get out of here you could actually teach us this stuff, no?"

"If you live that long."

"You think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks, starting to pry open the garage door.

"No." Ghost replies.

"As comforting as always lieutenant."

Johnny cracks the door open, the fan blade twists and bends, snapping once the door opens and the hinges of the lock crack.

"Busted the fan blade..." He mutters.

"Get you through the door?"

"Affirmative."

Johnny inspects the hallway and slowly moves in. You stay until he makes it inside and eventually, he motions you forward. And the two of you enter.

Johnny takes the lead ahead of you. You can't help but look at a few paintings down the hallway of a family. When you enter the living room you can hear loud voices.

Johnny arches to a stop, causing you to pause as well.

You can hear Graves yelling in the kitchen. Several Shadow men stalk around the area.

Johnny retreats from the living room and brings you back into the hallway. "We have to do something-" Johnny covers your mouth with his hand and stays in place.

You both listen to the shouting. You try to block it out. Your heart pounds away, fear making your shoulders up through your throat ice cold.

"Mama! ¡Mama! ¡Mama...!"

"Si tocas a mi familia, I will feed you to the fucking leonas! ¡Me escuchas!"

Your hand shoots up and grabs onto Johnny's bicep when you hear the gunshots. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try to keep focused.

Johnny looks as scared as you. His bottom lip trembles violently. The Shadows leave and move to another house to raid.

"Don't hurt my children... I'm begging you... Please..." A woman begs. In the distance, you can hear more yelling and gunshots.

A tear runs down your cheek. You dig into Johnny's skin, wanting to cry and scream. If Graves did anything, you'd kill him. Right here, right now.

Johnny looks into your eyes as a deafening silence continues. A moment of what felt like hours passes.

"Take the kid, get him out of here." Graves finally answers.

It relaxes you only slightly as the voices keep up. But you can't muster to listen anymore. No amount of training could rid you of the empathy that stung you on your job every day.

Johnny slowly pulls his hand away, his breath husky. "Come on." He whispers. You nod slowly and follow him toward the kitchen. You manage to sneak past the Shadows and up the stairs.

The smell of smoke hits you, but you dare not look, knowing what you'll find

Once in the hallway, You're able to relax scarcely. You step through the hallway after Johnny.

"God, this is awful." You shudder.

"Come on. Just gotta keep moving." Johnny replies.

"Lt. You good?"

"Peachy. How are you two coming along?"

Johnny bends down and picks up a headlamp off the floor. "Found a headlamp. Not too far from the previous owner either."

"Good. It can light your way but you risk attracting attention."

Johnny steps back into the hallway and motions you to the left while he checks the last room. You walk inside, blood stains on the carpet and chaos in the wake of Shadow men.

You shudder but continue searching the room. At this point, the aching in your body is the least of your concerns.

"Just keep moving..." You remind yourself under your breath.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Think we'll get the green light to go after these guys?" Johnny says. You can hear him rummaging around in the other room.

"No more greenlights. We're on our own."

You frown. "What about Captain Price?"

"Price isn't here, is he...? The old man can't bail us out. Not this time."

Your eyes turn despaired at one of the bodies. You don't reply, but Ghost continues to talk.

"Alejandro you can trust. But, he's in Graves' custody. If he's even alive... Laswell's close with Shepherd. Callin' her's a no-go until we learn more."

You find a few more things around the room and turn to go. "I trust the Captain - if he knew, he'd be here."

"Be careful who you trust, Sergeant. People you know can hurt you the most."

"Good advice Lt..."

"I want to be like you when I grow up."

You move back into the hallway and find Johnny also exiting back into the hallway.

"You want to be better than me, sergeant."

You couldn't help a tiny smile.

"Got our work cut out then."

"That you do..."

"Think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks.

"Probably not."

You ignore Ghost's pessimism and continue on.

Johnny nods to the last door. You slowly approach it and twist the handle. "Locked." Johnny holds up a lock-picking contraption. You move back behind him so he can bust the door open.

The lock cracks and the door is forced open.

You enter the room, stopping when you see the caged dog. He barks when he sees you, forcing a retreat.

"Fuck-"

Johnny grabs your hand and tugs you out of the room and around the corner. You can hear a Shadow soldier yelling downstairs, footsteps tromping up the stairs.

You watch the door as the Shadow walks into the room. He positions his gun and investigations the room thoroughly.

"It's the dog from the bedroom. I don't see anything. I'll stick around, just in case..."

You look at Johnny who motions you to stay.

You settle into the shadow of the upstairs. You focus on maintaining your breathing. You don't know how long you were there. Felt like a bloody long time before the Shadow soldiers decided to pack his ass up and leave.

"Did you see the caged dog?" Johnny manages to ask over the comms.

"Big geezer. If he barks, shoot him and repo quickly- Don't get compromised..." Ghost responds.

"You are stone cold, Simon."

You follow Johnny, shuddering when you pass the room with the dog.

"hey Cobra. What has two legs and bleeds?

You walk back into the hallway and one of the rooms, finding a balcony.

"Don't tell me."

"Half a dog."

"I asked you not to tell me."

Johnny approaches the balcony and sees the streets below are clear. "Think you can jump with those legs?"

"Honestly no."

Johnny nods. "I'll do my best to catch you then."

You look down over the ledge as Johnny hops up and tumbles down to the ground. You can see two Shadow men at the end of the roadway Johnny is in.

The fall was well-timed and he manages to get back up from it. He looks down the road and then up at you. He reaches his arms out, his injured one shaking more than the other.

You take a deep breath. You force your slightly less battered leg up onto the ledge. Your hands grip it tightly, fear scouring through your body.

You know Johnny is going to do his best to catch you. Even if the odds of that aren't in your favor.

You let go of the ledge and drop to the ground. Johnny grabs your underarms just before your legs wack against the ground. You have to bite your tongue to halt the slu of profanities that passes your mind.

"Sorry- that wasn't my plan." Johnny winces.

Your eyes swell with tears. "I'm fine." You wheeze.

He helps you regain your balance, but you're within seconds of collapsing. "Are we almost there?"

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost's voice crackles back over the comms.

"Outside... Gated alley." Johnny checks on you once last time before reaching for his gun.

"Stick to the edges and stay low."

"Copy."

You follow Johnny to the corner, wincing when your leg bends and you stumble into the wall.

"You ok?"

You nod to Johnny and urge him forward.

"What exactly do we get from this?" You wheeze again.

"You may get a brag rag for this..." Ghost replies monotonously.

"A medal?"

"Chest candy." He restates.

You scoff. "Dead Shadows are my medals."

Johnny reaches the back of the road just as the two Shadows walk off.

"Split up?"

Johnny shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you battered. You can barely walk."

"You doubt my abilities."

"I doubt your legs." He holds out his hand. "Stick with me, we get out alive. We find Ghost. Together."

You grabbed his hand and he led you forward. "Together."

"Church is on the north side of the city. I've set up a sniper position in the church tower. Find your way there, and you might just make it."

"We're on it Lt."

Johnny moves forward into the open yard. He stops by the wall of a building. You can see another group of Shadows.

"Fucking hell." You mutter.

"Graves is rounding up cops."

Johnny reaches out his arm to hold you back. Graves comes out of one of the houses, and you both watch the scene before you. You watch the Shadows murder one civilian after the other. Firing gunshot after gunshot.

"He's judge, jury, and executioner now."

Your hands quiver and pulse across your gun.

You look down and find a bottle in the street. "Johnny." You whisper and hold it up for him to see.

"A bottle. Good for a distraction. Could prove useful."

You continue to search around for a moment until Johnny hums. "Got it."

"Commandeered some wax, LT."

"Could prove useful..." Ghost reiterates.

You make eye contact again and you nod. You were ready.

Johnny looks and motions toward the water fountain in the middle of the street.

You slip out from the corner. You can't help but try and rush when you hear Graves yelling, followed by another gunshot.

And another.

You skid to a stop at the fountain and duck down behind it. You clutch your gun tightly and motion Johnny over. He comes around the corner and rushes across the open street.

He ducks down next to you and looks around. Two soldiers were standing by the perimeter of the street.

You try to still your breathing and keep Johnny from moving forward when you hear them talking.

"I got too much respect for these guys to go to guns unless they do." The first one says, his back turned toward you two.

"I bet we'd come out on top of that fight." The second one snarks.

"I don't wanna test my skills against 141."

"What are you thinkin'?"

"We should white flag this thing and talk or everyone's gonna end up dead."

"You gettin' scared, dude?"

" I'm not fuckin' scared, bro. I'm not stupid either. Any movement over there? It's quiet here... Narcos got outta Dodge. It's not them I'm worried about anyway..."

"I thought you said you're not scared."

"I'm worried, worried is different than scared..."

Johnny taps your arm and motions to a nearby crate. "Stay here."

You nod and continue to hold your position as he sneaks out just enough to reach the box.

"Same fuckin' thing..." The second Shadow replies when you turn your attention back on the conversation.

"No, it's not, it's not the same thing at all..."

"I'm telling you right now, don't let these guys get in your head..."

"So, you're tellin' me you see that big boy with the skullface, and you're not gonna start sweatin'?" The first Shadow sasses.

"I'm not gonna see him--"

"You're right, you won't see him. It's too late if you see him, you're fuckin' dead already."

You chuckle. "I think they're scared of you, Ghost." You whisper into your comm.

The radio crackles, but Ghost doesn't reply.

Johnny returns to your position and smiles. "Found a mouse trap."

"And this is good news because..?"

"Surpisingly useful as a trigger."

You look from the mousetrap to the bottle and start to catch on to his plan.

"It's no airstrike, but it'll do." He smirks.

"You both are doing good. Just keep moving. The longer you sit there the more chances you have of being killed."

You looked at Johnny. "Copy that Lt." You huff.

You looked into Johnny's eyes, and he can tell you are starting to give out. Your energy is fading, and you kind of liked the sound of staying there.

Johnny takes your hand and clutches it tightly. "Stay with me, soldier. Come on. Only a little longer and we can rest."

"Johnny I'm tired."

"I know, I'm going to get us out of here-" Johnny presses down on his comm. "Ghost, Cobra is fading, we need your oversight."

"I've got you Johnny. You're clear."

"Y/n."

Your ears ring when he says your name. You groan, trying to keep quiet.

"Y/n, you need to keep walking. Just keep walking, I'll get you both out of here, can you do that for me?"

Tears filled your eyes. "Yes sir."

"Good. I've got your backs, Johnny, use what you've found to conjure a distraction."

"I'm already on it Lt."

Johnny readjusts the bottle and throws it at the Shadows blocking your path. You scuff your boots and shove them under you to swing upward.

The Shadows look up, rushing to check the sound of the bottle smashing against the brick wall.

Johnny pulls your arms, and you both sneak down the overshadowed alleyway.

Your vision swims and goes fuzzy again. Your hand unclasps from Johnny's, and his silhouette fades into the darkness. You slump back to your knees, resting against the side of the building.

"Lieutenant..." Your thumb quivers, unable to keep the comm open to talk.

"I'm right here sergeant. You'll be ok, keep moving. I know you can do it."

"Tired..."

"Where is Johnny?"

You look up. You try to clear your head. Your insides swim with bile, and it makes the hooks of your jaw fuzzy. Your throat forces down saliva you don't want to swallow.

The shadows move, and there is Johnny. He rushes back over to you and crouches. "We've gotta go come on."

You grab onto him, unsure of where your feet are going, but you stand during the process.

Johnny guides you. His eyes soften again, and he slows down so you can slouch against him to take away some of the pain from your ankles.

"We're so close." He says.

You shake your head of the dizzy feeling and muster yourself up.

Johnny brings you to the end of the street and lays you up against the wall. You draw your gun into your lap and watch Johnny hunt the street for material.

"Found some chemicals." He says into his comm.

"Tie them up with some wax and you got a smoke bomb. A toxic distraction."

"Sick... I like it."

"Guarantee you they won't..."

"How is Cobra doing?" Ghost asks a minute later.

"Solid. Hanging on."

Johnny finds a roll of tape just a bit further from the chemicals. "I can use that later." You watch Johnny as he starts to make an explosive contraption.

You rise to your feet. Your knees shake but you manage to keep yourself up. You come to Johnny's back and could see he was making a bomb of sorts.

Eventually, he tucks it into his bag. He motions across the street and you follow him into another house. When entering you see a Shadow slammed up against the wall of the room, dead.

"Woah."

Johnny comes over and examines the knife stuck in his throat. "Looks like Ghost's handiwork." You mutter. "Missing a knife Lt?"

"Several."

"Think we found one."

"Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork..."

"You came through here?" You ask.

"On my way to the church."

"And you left us?" You frown.

"I'm used to working alone."

"So much for no man left behind." Johnny grumbles.

You pull the knife from the Shadows' throat and clean the blood on your vest pocket. You can probably use it for something. Might as well return them to him.

"Just get yourself to the church. Tryin' to keep you alive and get you here in one piece. One of us needs to survive to tell the tale."

"It'll probably be you." You reply.

Johnny motions you forward and the two of you search the house. Everything is in shambles, barely put together, and a mess in every sense.

Johnny moves into the living room and chuckles. "Seek and ye shall find..."

"Whatcha got?" You perk up curiously and walk over to him where he was currently strapping a briefcase to his person.

"Black powder..."

"Nice. This could get interesting..."

Johnny nods and the two of you set off. Johnny moves up the stairway while you search the kitchen. Under the cupboard there are a few chemicals you see fit to take with you.

"So..." You open your comm.

"What if we don't get out?"

Ghost hums. "If you mean all three of us die. We die. Price has to learn of this himself, three of his best soldiers dead and barely a task force left. You know. No pressure or anything."

"And what if you get out alive?"

"Then I'm going for safety, regrouping with Price. Then I'm finding Alejandro and Graves."

"Good plan."

"If you want to be in on it you might want to keep moving sergeant."

"Copy that Lt."

Johnny tromps back down the stairs and shakes his head. Nothing much.

"Lt, about to play rough with the Shadows..." You slip toward the back door, hands shaking and rough.

"I like the sound 'o that." Ghost replies.

"Fashioned a trip mine..." Johnny adds.

"A man after my own heart..."

"That's a scary thought." You mutter.

"You learn fast, Y/n."

You slip the back door open and find a lone Shadow standing guard. From your vest pocket, you pull out Ghost's knife and grip it in your hand.

Johnny nods, and you slip forward. You buckle your hand over the Shadow's mouth and drive the knife up into his back. His body strangles and freezes before going limp and falling to the ground.

"That knife came in handy."

"You're welcome."

"I ain't thanking you lieutenant." You chuckle and slip the blade back into your vest.

You search the Shadow's vest and are lucky enough to find a pistol. "Found a gun."

"Good work. Moving up in the world. Choose your shots and targets wisely. Guns make noise."

"Copy Lt."

Johnny stares down at the dead Shadow a moment longer. You hear a noise down the road and your eyes shoot up as another Shadow walks your way.

"Fuck, come on MacTavish." You grab his hand and pull him out of the street and around the corner. You make ten paces before you're stopping again, faced with another group of conversing Shadows.

"I wanna find those English motherfuckers. That asshole with the mask and the other leprechaun." The first one says.

"Leprechaun's-they're Irish, I told you that." The second one responds.

"Right. One o' those dudes with the skirts."

"It's called a kilt."

"It's a dude in a dress, that's all I know..."

"Uh huh. What about the third one? Smart ass little sergeant got away."

"They're 141, what do you expect? Wimps?"

"Just want to get my hands on that one. Slimy as a frog. An agile thing."

Johnny scoffs. He prepares his bomb from behind you and doesn't waste his time throwing it in their direction. "Lot o' slime." He mutters.

The smoke bomb hits the ground and alerts the Shadows. Before you know it Johnny is taking off toward one of the alleys.

"Fuck-"

Gunfire rains down on you, forcing you from your position. The gunfire strays you out into the street and down a separate roadway. You slam yourself around the corner and down against the wall. You clench your teeth, fresh blood trickling down your arm.

Your left hand is shaking violently, unable to hold your weapons.

You slouch against the wall, breathing ragged and body gushing blood.

"Cobra!? What's your position!" Johnny finally asks worriedly through the comms. You huff, raising your hand to respond. "Solid... But hit."

"Shit. My bad." Johnny apologizes.

"All good." You reply.

You slowly stand, pressing your weight into the wall until you manage to recover yourself.

"Feeling weak, are you?"

"bit shaky, sir, yeah." You roll your neck, pain shooting up your spine.

"Graves tried to kill us. Would stand to reason if you were a little off. Find a stim- It'll give you a boost"

"I just want out of this alive."

"We'll get you out alive then."

"So you do like me?"

"I like you both alive."

"Fair enough."

You traverse through the roadway and sidetrack into a garage linked to a building.

"Found a stim." Johnny says over comm.

"Use it. I'm out of luck." You push your way through the door, hissing at the use of your hurt arm.

"Elbow is going numb."

"Find a stim."

"I'm trying to find anything I can." You reply.

Johnny and Ghost maintain contact while you slip through the house and scavenge for anything you can take to keep the Shadows off you.

You find only one speckle of useful items like chemicals, which are more useful in Johnny's hands.

"Y/n.. Graves is burning the midnight oil to find us... Why...?" Ghost asks.

You frown. "He's involved. Both Sheppard and Graves are involved."

"No matter what- this is an unprecedented amount of fuckery. We need to get to the bottom of it." Johnny adds.

"Accurate and deadly fire tends to resolve these things. Right now, we're not safe here."

"Right now... we're not safe anywhere, Lt." You break into another room, combing through as you go. You sneak out the backdoor and find yourself faced with Shadow soldiers.

You manage to slip past as they talk and into the next house.

You find a small storage room and your heart sinks when you find a civilian laying dead next to a toolkit. "Son of the damn devil." You whisper.

You walk through the rest of the house. Chairs and dreary wallpaper, everything a normal family would need.

You jump when you hear banging thunder against one of the doors. You grab your knife as you approach the door and swing it open.

But just as you do, the wounded civilian on the other side falls to his knees. His eyes look up at you in pain and fear before he's gone.

You swallow the sick feeling in your mouth and step over him and press forward.

"I'm in the coffee shop." You sit rep.

"Get us a tea."

You roll your eyes. "Fuckin' Brits. You'll owe me for this you know?"

"Why?"

"We're all fixing each other's problems."

"And what's my problem?"

"The mask," You whine.

"Take it off." Johnny joins, making you smile.

"Show my face?"

"Yes, sir. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

"Negative."

You pout. Finally, you find a stim case on the counter, along with some other trinkets. You jab it into your arm and feel slight relief from the adrenaline.

There's a briefcase sitting on the table. You open it only to find more explosives and an aiming sight. Not much use to you.

You grab the briefcase and hang on to it, just in case Johnny can use it.

"Are you ugly?" Johnny continues.

"Quite the opposite." Ghost replies.

"I doubt that."

Johnny chuckles, and Ghost disappears from the comms. You switch your channel to just Johnny, "I think we bullied him."

"Aw, poor Lt."

You search behind the shop counter. "He does owe us when we get back, though."

"That's for fucking sure. This would go a lot smoother if we were all together."

You push another door open, looking around and finding nothing.

"You know, maybe a vacation could do us good??"

"Vacation? The hell are you on about."

"The Bahamas are sounding really nice right about now."

"Ghost is allergic to the sun."

You chuckle. You hear the door of the coffee shop open. You're at the ready, slipping back out of the room, only to see Johnny.

"Scared me for a minute."

"Figured out where the coffee shop was."

You hold out the briefcase and smile. "Figured you could use this." You look down and see the gun in his hand. "And where did you find that?"

"Tripwire. House just down the road."

Johnny takes the case of explosives and secures the sight onto his gun.

"Have you checked everything?"

"No, just the first door."

You both head for the office door, to no surprise it's locked.

Johnny hums and pulls out a couple of tools from his belt. "Give this a try."

You take a step back as he slots the tool in the door and force it open.

"Nice skills there Soap."

He winks and allows you in first. A couple filing cabinets, a desk, and a safe. You approach the safe. "Is there a code around here??"

Johnny inspects the room, looking under papers and books. His attention soon turned to the calendar up on the wall. With a suspicious number of dates circled. "That looks interesting."

"Give it a go?"

Johnny nods, so you punch in the numbers, your eyes widening when it works. "On the money."

You open the safe and search inside. Throwing knives, money...

"Oh ho ho."

Johnny raises a brow. "What??"

"Hand held .50 cal...? You're coming with me..."

Johnny gapes. "What!? No way, I want that one."

You frown. "No way, you have the big guy." You motion briefly to the Lockwood in his hands. "This one, is mine."

Johnny sputters but ultimately huffs and shuts up.

You switch your radio to the clear channel again. "Ghost."

"Y/n..."

"Guess what I found?"

"More stopping power?"

"Check."

Johnny huffs, making his way back out of the room and you follow close behind.

"Your life expectancy just went way up."

"Thank you!"

"Not yet sergeant. It's still your job to keep you alive."

"Thanks Lt. Really helping us out here."

Johnny approaches the window to take a look outside. "Uh oh, looks like we're gonna have company."

You look up, seeing the Shadows advancing outside. "What do we do?"

"We can fight?"

"Took risky." You reply.

"That's three less Shadows on our tail."

You chew your lip, trying to make a decision.

"You two, check out that warehouse." The Shadow says.

Johnny grabs your arm and pulls you down next to him. "Guess we're fighting it out." You clock your gun.

"Let's get it over and done with."

"You make it sound like we're doing chores." You retort.

"They've got no guns, he won't get far." A second Shadow says, much closer than before.

"They're 141... Still dangerous. Go left, I'll clear the alley."

"Roger, on it."

Johnny sneaks around the edge of the bar, motioning you to follow him. You crawl quickly on your hands and knees, barely out of sight before the door to the shop opens.

Boots crackle wetly along the tile ground. You steady your breath as the Shadow enters, followed by another.

"Ya here? Not too late to surrender..." The Shadow calls out.

You look at Johnny who is readying himself.

Your comm crackles and you freeze.

"Sergeant, how are we doing?" Ghost asks.

Your eyes widen.

The Shadows snap and round the corner, ammo loaded.

You roll to your feet and slam the closest one to you against the wall, the barrel of your gun against his jaw and soon a bullet in his brain. Johnny tussles with the other one before managing to overpower him and stabbing him in the throat.

You both run for the backdoor and run out into the street. Johnny slips down the alleyway toward the third Shadow and slices him clean through the back with his knife.

"Come on."

You break for it down the alley and across the street.

"Come on. A bit further."

You huff. You pant. Your legs buckle and you slam down to the ground.

Blood leaks from your wounds and washes away in the street. Your breathing is heavy and you're feeling dizzy again. And a sick lightheaded feeling bounces around in the confines of your skull.

"Come on sergeant. We're almost there."

You shake your head. "I can't. Tired."

Johnny bends down and pulls you up into his arms. You're eyes focus on him briefly before he's just another blur out of reach.

His cold hand cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. "Come on. Come on you're doing So good. I know you can keep moving. I know you can!"

You press your hand to your stomach, feeling bile rise in your chest. Johnny's eyes fade in and out, his figure blending with the shadows.

"Ghost. Cobra isn't doing well."

You huff and heave. Your eyes swell with tears.

Johnny can see it coming and he slowly moves you out of his arms and down to the ground.

Your vision fades in and out.

"What's the sergeants condition?" Ghost asks.

Johnny smooths his hands over your arms. He checks your vest for any kind of medical supplies. Worry bubbling when he finds nothing to bandage you with. "Not good. I'm not sure what's going on-"

"Alright Johnny. Flip y/n over, get the sergeant on their hands and knees."

"No-!" You wheezed. "Hurt."

Johnny scavenges his person for medical supplies, finding nothing.

"Shit. Y/n, come here. I've got you."

You dry heave, your chest flares up, and your cheeks flush.

Johnny helps to flip you over and rubs your back. "It's ok. You're doing well keeping up."

You feel bile rise in your throat. The burn follows before bile forces it's way out from your stomach. Your insides churning and twisting.

Bile spills into the street and burns your dry, sore throat. Blood spills into the mess and slips into one of the storm drains.

When your stomach finally settles enough to suck in air.

Your shaking arms fold in, giving Johnny barely a second to pull you back into the safety of his arms. The rain is starting to get to you. Plastering your shirt to your skin and your hair damp against your forehead.

"Lt. We need to get going." Johnny comms. Much more concerned than before.

You curl into his cold embrace. Tired and sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body.

"Johnny... town's full o' tunnels. One leads out across from the church. Be advised- the tunnel is flooded. Prepare for a cold swim."

Johnny winces as he pulls you up to your feet. Your head hangs, fighting for consciousness as he pulls you onto his shoulder.

"Hang on Y/n, I'm getting us home."

"Home..."

"Yeah. We're going home. It'll be warm. You can curl up in a blanket and relax. You just gotta hang on alright?"

"Can't wait."

"I know. But try."

"Still upright?" Ghost asks after a minute of walking.

"So far, so good. Can't say the same for Y/n though."

"You get caught out there, they'll kill you slow..."

"Mercs or the Narcos?"

"Narcos... They'll take videos..."

"I'll give 'em your email so they know where to send them..." Johnny opens another house door and slips inside.

"I won't watch 'em... More than once anyway..."

"Sick bastard..."

Johnny places you down by the stairs and cups your cheek. "How are we doing?"

Blood still drips from your mouth, and it's starting to trickle from your nose as well. All you can manage is a weak smile.

Johnny leaves you there while he searches the place. He searches the kitchen, the living room, and the garage. You're left unaided in silence.

"You still standing, Y/n?"

"Think I'm clear..." You can barely reply.

"Soap- you makin' progress?"

Johnny hums from the other room. "Aye. Gettin' there..."

You watch the blood trickling down your arm. Your vision briefly blurs again, but you blink it away.

"Hey sergeant." Your comm. Crackles again.

"Two goldfish are in a tank...?"

You shift gently, still holding your angry stomach. "Go on..."

Ghost replies immediately. "One turns to the other and says... "You know how to drive this thing?" Little army humor."

"Very little." You reply. But you can hear in his voice he's trying to hold back a chuckle. It's a comforting thought to think that wherever Ghost is, he's smiling.

Johnny gives you a nod when he comes back from the living room and walks up the stairs to check the second floor.

"Another?"

You clasp and unclasp your cold fingers. "Why not..."

"Why don't blind guys skydive?"

"Tell me."

"Scares the shit out o' their dogs..."

You crack a small smile.

"We could do this all night."

"That's what I'm afraid of." You respond.

Johnny comes back down the stairs and showed you the new weapon on his hip. "Found a safe upstairs. Had some snazzy stuff inside."

You attempt to stand with him but your body doesnt make it far.

Johnny quickly comes to your side and helps you up. "Don't worry. I'll keep us moving. Think you can hop on my back?"

You nod and stand against the wall as Johnny bends over. It's an uncomfortable fit against the protective vest, but it's better than being hauled over his shoulder.

He left through the front door and walked back out into the rain.

"Hey Ghost..." You croak.

"What is it, sergeant?" Ghost's voice seems a slight bit softer. Maybe it's the delirium or the rain, but he sounds comforting.

"I gotta joke for you..."

"Let's hear it then."

You close your eyes, your breathing slowing. Johnny looks back over his shoulder at you and pats your thigh.

"Why don't shrimps share?"

"Why?"

"Because they're a little shellfish."

"Not bad." Ghost replies. Even Johnny manages to crack a smile.

Johnny stops under a small overhang and opens the door. Warm light welcomes you inside the scuffed up bar.

"Lt- I'm at the bar."

"You like tequila?"

"Could use one right about now," Johnny replies, looking around for things.

"I'd murder for a whiskey."

"You mean Scotch?"

"I drink bourbon."

"Like a good ol' boy..."

Ghost sighs. "I love Kentucky."

"You're out o' your mind, Lt."

"That's for sure."

Johnny pats your thigh. "Hang in there sergeant." You cling to him as best you can, relying on their voices. Both their voices help you focus on the task ahead of you.

Johnny pushes outside of the bar and finds his way to the tunnels.

"Lt. I've got a problem."

"What's your situation, Johnny?"

"Reached the tunnel. Not sure how I'm gonna get y/n through with me." Johnny helps you off his back and sets you down.

"How are you feeling Y/n?"

You hold onto his hand. "Can't quite feel my legs."

"Ghost, is there any other way?"

"I'm afraid not. If you've got any more stims get the sergeant boosted."

Johnny holds your hand and motions to the tunnel. "We've gotta go for a swim."

"I don't think I can-"

"I'm not leaving you out here. We're so close. I just need you to push through just one last time. Can you do this, for us?"

You swallow hard. "I'll try."

"Good. Come on."

Johnny grabs your hand and helps you up. Your feet are numb, but it at least rids off the pain in your legs.

You hold Johnny's hands tightly as you enter the tunnel. You gasp as you walk into the water, eventually unable to touch the ground. The cold water washes up your waist and over your shoulder blades. It laps at your wounds and soothes them slightly. Johnny looks back at you to check if you're ok, and you nod.

You move your arms despite the pain in your left arm and swim slowly through the tunnel.

"You're doing good." Johnny praises over breaths of his own exhaustion.

"Ghost."

"Johnny."

"We're working through the tunnel."

"The church plaza is on the other end of the tunnel. Push through, you're nearly here."

The reassurance of safety fuels your need to keep going. You fight and push through the cold water. Your fingers start freezing up, and your legs can barely move. You grab onto the hook of Johnny's tactical gear just so you can keep up.

Johnny slows along the water line when he spots a group of Shadows on patrol. "Alright, we're gonna take this slow." You nod and follow Johnny toward the water line.

"Where the hell are they?!" The first Shadow grumbles.

"Maybe, all three of them are dead?" The second asks.

"Graves wants proof."

"Just cut the mask off." The second one says.

"Do I get a bonus for that...?"

"Not if I beat you to it."

Johnny slips up the side of the watered tunnel. You follow and try not to disturb the water as you go.

"I'll kill the Irish one." The first Shadow growls.

"The kid's Scottish, not Irish." The second one sighs.

"It's the same fuckin' thing...!"

Johnny stops along the wall and reaches for his knife.

"Ghost, I got Shadows wearing body armor."

"You'll have to get in close and find the gaps."

"Rog."

Johnny grips his knife and looks at you. You fiddle with your knife and follow him. "I'll take left." He whispers. You nod and turn to the Shadow on the right.

"Again, what about the other one? Graves isn't to happy the other sergeant jumped from the truck." The first one readjusts his gun.

"Kill them. What else? I highly doubt they made it far after that fall."

You look over at Johnny, who slips out of the shadows. He nods to you, and you rush the Shadows'. You grab the Shadow's shoulder and slot your knife in the break of armor by his neck. You dig the blade into the crook of his neck and slice open the skin.

Blood spurts out across your hand and uniform. His body falls back into yours. You lean into the action and throw him back into the flooded tunnel.

Your vision blurs again, but you shake it off quickly.

"Good job." Johnny says.

You both head for the end of the tunnel and your heart swells. "Johnny... The church!" Johnny smiles in relief.

"Ghost. We've got eyes on the church."

"Good. You're on the right track. Keep comin'.

Johnny motions you forward and runs out of the tunnel and out into the street.

The rain has let up, but not by much. It's easier to see your surroundings now. You both run until you are cut off by a blockade of vehicles lining the street. "Shit." Johnny curses. "Lt. We're blocked off."

"Try and cut through the shops."

Johnny looks from left to right.

You look around with him, finding an alleyway next to the shops. "There." You point.

Johnny looks to where you're pointing and smiles. "Good eyes. Come on, let's go."

Johnny rushes toward the alleyway. You stumbled after him. You swallow down your ragged breath, your will to survive momentarily pushing out the pain still searing through your body.

You shivered in the cold, completely drenched.

Your breath evaporates out from your lungs, and into the air. You push through, the fear of Johnny's back getting smaller, and his silhouette being swallowed up by the night keeping you going.

Johnny ducks into the alleyway. "Think we found a way through Lt."

"Shadows are everywhere. I'll hold 'em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil."

"Roger that."

"Give 'em hell, Johnny- We're almost there. Keep on your feet Y/n, you're doing good."

"Yes sir." You rasp.

Johnny turns back to you and cups your hand in his. You lean against the wall and close your eyes. You can hear Johnny struggling with the door to get inside.

Your breathing slows and the lightheaded feeling returns.

The door opens and Johnny gasps. "Fuck-!"

You open your eyes just as Johnny receives the butt end of a Shadow's gun and is thrown to the ground. You reach for your knife too late, and the Shadow hits you in the back of the knees and sends you down to the ground.

The side of your head hits the ground, and blood rushes through your ears. Your vision goes fuzzy, and everything blurs and spins. Johnny fades in and out beside you, and the swirl of colors that is Johnny shifts.

"What the... GET DOWN-! All Shadow stations, Got two near the church-!" The Shadow soldier yells.

Ringing vibrates around your head. The blood dripping from your nose onto the road is the only thing you can listen to.

Time seems to freeze an eternity before you hear the Shadow's comm. crackle.

Graves' voice was loud and clear. His voice is cold as ice against your body.

"Kill them."

Bang!

A gunshot rings through the air, and the Shadow above you suddenly falls limply to the ground. Across the barbwire fence of the church rush more Shadow troops, those of which are taken down by a bigger silhouette.

Johnny sits up and shoves the Shadow away with his foot.

"Holy hell... Ghost- was that you?"

"Who else...? Now go..."

Johnny gets up and grabbed

your arms. "Come on y/n, let's go."

Your vision spins, your stomach flipping and spiraling. Your head lolls as Johnny pulls on you, a bullet whistling past your head as he pulls you inside.

Johnny slams the door shut and cups your cheek. "Oh my- you're bleeding so much. Fucking hell."

You try to focus your eyes on Johnny. Your hand comes up to the side of your head, feeling sticky warmth against your temple. You pull your fingers away and red stains your fingertips.

"Ghost. Leaking blood. Badly. What are our options??" Johnny leans you against the wall and checks for anything he could use to stop the blood.

"Johnny, got company in the church, and they're not here for forgiveness...! Get to the steps, I'll be there..."

Johnny curses. "Get on my back!"

"Soap..."

"Get on my back!"

You grab onto his shoulders, and he pulls you up onto his back.

Johnny cocks his gun and opens the shop door.

Gunfire rains across the area, whizzing by your bodies. "Give me a bloody break." He heaves you further up into his arms and makes a break for it across the yard.

Shadow soldiers converge on the church. Johnny smiles when he reaches the entrance of the church.

"Ghost!"

"Johnny!"

Ghost shoots two approaching Shadows and climbs up and over the gate of the church.

Ghost comes into your field of view, his gloved hand cups your injured head. "How are we hanging in soldier?"

"Not good. They're barely hanging on." Johnny replies for you. Ghost nods. "Come on, I'll take them." Johnny stands up and you slide easily into Ghost's arms. "Holding strong sergeant."

You cling to his back and hug him tightly. "Come on! Let's go."

"We need a vehicle, on me-! Stay sharp, they know we're here and they know it's us. They'll send more." Ghost's voice rumbles through his chest and warms your insides.

It's beyond relieving to see your lieutenant again. You aren't in the clear yet, but his presence brings safety.

More Shadows appear from the alleyway and charge your group.

"Contact-! Dead ahead!"

"I see 'em. Watch the alley!"

Johnny shoots the Shadows dead and continue their run through the streets.

"How are we doing Y/n?"

"Still alive..." You groan.

"Keep it that way! You're doing good!" He praises.

Johnny and Simon continue down the road. "Johnny, stay close. Heads up for a vehicle we can take."

Bullets whistle past you. The yelling of soldiers struggling to get their targets on the three of you overpowers your senses. Your vision slowly returns, and you're able to regrip Ghost's tactical vest.

"Soap, pick up truck ahead. lights on."

"I got it!" Johnny replies.

"I'll drive, Johnny- take shotgun."

Ghost stops at the backseat and flings the door open. "Hold steady soldier!" He releases you and lays you in the backseat."

"Now, Johnny, passenger side of the truck- mount up!"

Johnny jumps in.

"Alright, you two, you made it..."

You give a shaky thumbs-up, making Ghost chuckle.

"We made it Lt."

Bullets ping into the metal of the pickup truck as Shadows throw you three under heavy fire.

"Hold fast...!" Ghost puts the truck in reverse and runs over two Shadows firing at you.

"That's one way o' doin' it!"

Johnny spots a Shadow to the left of Ghost out the window just as you do.

"Get back!"

The Shadow drops dead to the ground, more soldiers falling into the street and firing at you.

"Thanks." Ghost says.

A bullet whistles through the back window, shattering the glass just above your head. "Shit-!" You gasp.

"Drive- I'll cover us!" Johnny yells.

Ghost slams on the pedal and drives the truck straight into the gate ahead. He takes off down the road and doesn't attempt to stop.

Johnny sits back in his seat and sighs. "Bloody hell..."

"You made it out..." Ghost says.

"I'm proud of both of you." He flips the rearview mirror down to see your face. "Just hang in a little longer partner. We're gonna get you patched up good as new.

"I feel like shit." You groan.

Your blood leaks out on the seat, and your wet clothes grow uncomfortable. Ghost eventually pulls over on the side of the road and gets out.

"We've got a bit of time if they've been following us." He opens the back seat and motions you forward.

"Bloody hell, Johnny wasn't kiddin', you did destroy your knees." Ghost ran his thumb over them and you tense.

"I'm sure Alejandro has something that can patch you up."

"Alejandro..?" You clench your teeth.

"Yeah, for now," Ghost pulls out some bandage wraps from his pouch. "Johnny hand me that tourniquet on your vest."

"My what-?" Johnny looks down and checks his vest surprised. "I didn't even- blind as bloody blind person..." He hands over the tourniquet.

Ghost pulls off your tactical gear and throws it on the other seat. You shiver, and his hand is there to comfort you.

"We'll be out of this soon."

He wraps both your knees and your head enough to get you through. "Arm." He instructs. You motion to your wounded arm and he wraps the tourniquet around it tightly.

"That'll keep you from bleeding all over the seats."

"Thank you lieutenant." You whisper. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Ghost bends down, and for a moment, his eyes soften and something is let out. A glimpse of love and concern. "You did amazing, sergeant."

He helps your legs back into the truck and closes the door. "Now, let's get somewhere safe."

"Got an idea, Lt?"

"I might. Yeah."

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