#Shadow Company AU

[thechaoticcheese]

TWs: Cursing and Canon Violence

‘This isn’t right.’ Roach finally signed, his gaze returning to Cupcake as he shifted himself to make sure the blond could see him. “I know… But… Orders are orders… We stick with Shadow Company, we stay alive, and we get out of here. We can put this behind us, Roach. Never set foot in or near Mexico…”

Word Count: 7,162

Shadow Company Roach AU - Chapter 11 - Detainment

With a deep breath to ground himself, Roach left the room. He, Jet, and Skunk would take one half of the hall while Crash, Cupcake, Rico and Void took the other half. But the doubt of this takeover weighed heavy on Roach’s mind.

Just minutes before they were given a handful of zip ties, just in case, from Jet. Use as many as needed. Jet’s words echoed in Roach’s mind as the seven made their way through the hallway. There shouldn’t be too many Los Vaqueros in this hall, so seven should be easily enough for their section of the takeover. Especially since this was the barracks. It was late in the day, there would be almost no one around. It seemed a bit overkill to Roach. But with Alejandro off base along with Graves, Ghost, Soap, and Shadow team 1, 2 and 3, it only left three teams to round up any Vaqueros left on base and bring them to wherever they were destined to be.

Roach had no doubt that this was the plan all along from the moment Graves got back from that mission where they lost a good bunch of soldiers, especially all of the original Shadow 3. The plan was to find Hassan, take back or destroy what missiles he took and bury anyone that stood in the way or had even a chance of getting the word out to what had happened.

Roach wasn’t sure exactly who the missiles were for, but it was obvious that it was from the U.S. Government. Specifically from General Shepherd. He was the contractor that got the previous Shadow 3 buried and Roach couldn’t entirely forgive their contractor for it. Even if he had unlimited access to the funding for the U.S. Defenses. You could never put a price on a person’s life. It felt ironic just momentarily thinking about it as Roach watched Jet quietly open the door to the barracks, Roach and Skunk behind him. He slowly and carefully stepped into the room that held the bunks for the Vaqueros.

‘There are two in here. Skunk, clear out the rest of the hall, Roach and I will take them.’ Jet signed, glancing at the two men behind him. Skunk nodded before he moved slowly through the rest of the hall. Roach held his breath for a moment as he followed Jet in. ‘I will take the one on the right, you take the left.’ Jet signed before Roach responded with a nod as the two Shadow Company soldiers quietly made their way through the barrack.

The sun had started lowering itself on the horizon. The room being bathed in an orange-ish hue that was let through the windows spaced between the bunk beds. It gave the two soldiers plenty of light to see what they were doing, but also didn’t really hide them well. Jet kept moving forward as Roach paused seeing his target asleep on the bed, no doubt sleeping due to an early patrol or something of the likes.

Roach’s footsteps were silent as he slowly approached the sleeping man. His breathing was loud to him, it being paired with the thrumming of his heart as it demanded to be let out of his ears. The Vaqueros soldier was curled up with his back to Roach, but he had started to stir, as if he knew something was up.

Roach shifted quickly to the side of the man's bed, no doubt he looked like some sort of shadow demon to the man as his eyes slowly opened and his body turned to the Shadow Company soldier as the taller male quickly went into detain him. Roach’s gloved hands grabbed the Vaqueros’ wrists as he tried to shoot up from the bed. “Mierda!(Shit!)” He gasped as he struggled against Roach as the American wrestled with the Mexican off his bed and onto the floor. The man grunted as his back hit the floor, being pinned down between the bunks that offered little space for a continued wrestling match. Roach’s legs went over the man’s hips as he quickly turned the man over and zip tied his hands behind his back. The masked man then grabbed a shirt that was haphazardly tossed on the floor nearby. The operator quickly wrapped it around the man’s head, then tying it before he stuffed some of it into the soldier’s mouth to keep him from making any more noises loud enough to startle any of the other Vaqueros that might be present in the hallway. Though it felt like it didn’t matter. The anger that pulsated from the man beneath him told Roach that the Vaquero was cursing the Shadow Company soldier ten ways to Sunday. “Lo siento mucho. (I’m very sorry.)” Roach softly spoke to the man before hauling him up. He could tell right away that this man would be a struggle to get out of the room that was tightly packed with bunks.

The man squirmed a lot, flailing his restricted body in any way he could, kicking his legs, throwing his head back. The American cursed softly underneath his breath as he dodge the thrashings. He glanced over to Jet, making sure he had also captured his intended target. Jet had him secured in the zip tie as well, the shorter man having been a little ruffled up from detaining his assigned target. “Let’s get them out.” Jet ordered before Roach nodded once more before bringing his captive to the entrance of the room. He could hear Jet following him as the two men struggled in the Shadows’ grasps. “Roach, Wait-” Roach wasn’t able to respond or even acknowledge what Jet had just said as his eyes locked onto another Vaquero that looked out of breath and absolutely startled. The man had tried to run in through the door before he skidded to a stop, seeing Roach and a fellow Vaquero that was detained.

He was trying to warn people. Without a second thought, Roach shoved the detained man in front of him into the one who had just tried to enter the room. The man caught his teammate and staggered back. It bought Roach enough time to rush forward, pushing the detained man away before using the remaining momentum to continue his stun streak with the other man. His shoulder collided with the Vaqueros’ chest right as he heard boots stomping towards him. “Roach!” Cupcake’s familiar voice greeted Roach’s ears. He glanced over at the man.

He seemed worried.

The Vaquero soon got his footing back and started to push back against Roach, the American’s attention going back to the man he was facing. The Vaquero huffed and growled as he glared into Roach’s dark visor that only reflected the man’s own angered expression. When Roach felt his feet starting to slip against the floor, he quickly maneuvered to the side. His hands gripped the man’s wrist and arm, letting him stumble forward and using that force to spin him around before Roach made him collide with the wall. Roach pushed into him before the freckled soldier wrapped a zip tie around his wrists, just like the previous man. He kept the man pressed against the wall before his attention went to Cupcake who was bringing up the man that was left on the floor from when the dirty blonde shoved him. “The rest of the section is clear… Now… Did you forget to turn on your radio?” Cupcake informed, his blue eyes glancing over at the taller man with a questioning, albeit teasing look. Roach blinked before realizing that he had forgotten to turn on his radio. He nodded slightly, before clicking it on.

Cupcake snorted as Jet exited the barracks with his captive and continued the conversation, “It’s alright, I was with him at least. Let’s get these guys to the cars. They seemed to be the only ones stationed in this area so we should be good. We’re bringing them to a prison just outside of Las Almas. I’ll be leading the way.” Roach let out a long sigh with a nod as the three pushed forward the detained men. Roach stayed a few steps behind Cupcake and Jet, not daring to get close enough for the Vaquero he was forcing to move forward to hurt either of the men.

“You son of bitches will pay for this!” He spat as he fought against Roach. “Los Vaqueros will spill your blood for betraying us. ¡Malditos pendejos!(Fucking assholes)! ¡Arderás en el infierno!(You’ll burn in hell!)” The man cursed and it made Roach’s mind falter a bit. He’s heard insults and curses before, even some more loaded from those vowing revenge before he himself had put a bullet in their head. Though the tone in this man’s voice wasn’t just bloodlust, anger, or sadness. It was betrayal. Roach pushed forward however. The guilt had started to eat away at his stomach as the man kept cursing and swearing at the three bringing him and his fellow soldiers to the cars. His mind was elsewhere as Jet spoke through the man’s cursing, the freckled man not absorbing any of it as they walked through Los Vaqueros’ base.

The vehicles were parked up front, they had been made into a makeshift prisoner transportation. The back seats were stripped of the cushions along anything that could be used to harm someone. A clear see-through plastic that was installed and screwed into place on the side of the car to separate the front and backseats.

Roach and Cupcake separated from Jet and made their way to the front car. The taller Shadow Company soldier gently made his captive duck into the vehicle, closing the door carefully so as to not hurt the man in case he tried to escape. Cupcake did the same with the man he was moving, making sure to do it at the same time as to not cause a potential runner situation. “You’ll be taking this car with Jet. Void and I will follow with the last pr… Person... While Crash, Rico and Skunk follow rear as defense.” Cupcake relayed the information they were told while the three were moving the men to the vehicles. Roach looked over at the blond with thankful eyes. It was as if the blond knew that his fellow Shadow wasn’t paying attention to Jet’s orders. The two got to know how to read each other very well. Roach could tell from the hesitation and refusal to call the men from Los Vaqueros prisoners, that Cupcake was having doubts too. They stood there in silence as they looked at the vehicle. Roach’s hazel eyes stared at the man trying to discuss something with the other in the back. ‘This isn’t right.’ Roach finally signed, his gaze returning to Cupcake as he shifted himself to make sure the blond could see him. “I know… But… Orders are orders… We stick with Shadow Company, we stay alive, and we get out of here. We can put this behind us, Roach. Never set foot in or near Mexico…” Cupcake’s voice was wavering as he looked behind them. Roach followed his gaze to see Void and Skunk loading in a car with their detained Vaquero, with Jet doing the same on the other side of the vehicle before he stalked his way around the car to the other two. “And never talk about this again. Like we agreed when we signed that contract.” ‘Cupcake…’ Roach signed, moving into view, his brows furrowed underneath his goggles. He knew his fellow soldiers, his friends. Cupcake was struggling with this and he wanted to help. “No, Roach. I… I understand. I get it.” His voice quivered, trying to harden it as he continued to speak. Cupcake’s hand moved to his goggles, moving them to then wipe away whatever tears had fallen. “I don’t like this as much as you, but this is our job. We can’t falter from our jobs. Our contracts. Even if we hate it. We have a job to do, Roach. Don’t skip town now.” Cupcake didn’t even dare look back at Roach as he put his goggles back on. He then turned and walked towards Jet, Skunk and Void.

Roach was left to wait alone by the car for Jet. He sighed and shook his head. His mind clouding up as his eyes barely let his brain register Cupcake going up to the trio and conversing with them. Roach couldn’t stomach this. It was wrong and he knew it. Taking prisoners for a war that wasn’t even theirs.

His mind snapped back to the present as he caught movement. Skunk had broken away from the group. He headed to the last vehicle out of the three that were parked. It already had Crash sitting in the passenger seat with Rico being barely visible in the back. Skunk climbed into the driver’s seat. His head slowly scanned his surroundings, not seeming to let his guard down, just like he always does on a mission. Then his blackened visor landed on Roach and gave him a small nod. It took a few seconds before Roach responded in kind before he looked over his shoulder at the car that carried the Vaqueros he and Cupcake captured.

The thoughts in his mind were back in full throttle, fighting in an all out war. And one side was clawing its way into being the clear victor.

On the one hand, Cupcake was right. All Roach had to do was just stay silent, do the job, and get out. That’s it. Simple right? Follow orders. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Follow orders.

He had to.

He… He would… He should…

Roach took in a deep breath as he realized that the two Vaqueros were looking straight at him with daggers in their eyes. If looks could kill, Roach would be labelled KIA right on the spot. And the looks made him rethink everything that has happened so far, made him think about the other side of the argument.

The side that's winning.

The side that kept that pit in his stomach from going away and slowly getting bigger and heavier as it devoured the side that told him to just follow orders. The guilt of making these men go through something that didn’t involve them at all. It was between General Shepherd, Shadow Company and Al-Qatala. No one else. These soldiers had nothing to do with it. And it devoured Roach’s mind and soul. His gut twisted as he tore his eyes away as he barely registered his call sign. The guilt ridden man didn’t even notice when his team leader approached.

“Roach.” Jet repeated, sounding irritated, “Did you even hear a damn thing I just said?” His eyebrow arched up as he tilted his head to his side. Jet never wore his goggles. Not unless it was in the field with enemies nearby. Since all of their enemies were captured by the team, there was no need for them. They rested on his helmet as his piercing icey blue eyes bore into his second in command. ‘No. I’m sorry, can you repeat?’ Roach signed. A different guilt hit him now. Not the pained guilt of his morals. Fearful guilt. Or maybe it was just fear.

Jet had his ways with his tone and cold blue eyes that made the team listen. It was like a mini Graves in training. Manipulation masked as charisma. One thing that Roach hated to admit, was that through the years, Jet had learned how to push everyone’s buttons in the way that made them tick how he wanted them to tick. How to make them listen or cower in fear beneath his words and stare.

Roach would argue that he didn’t need to do it. Jet was a natural born leader who most people naturally listened to. It was like he wanted to make sure he had some extra backup to make sure that the ones that didn’t listen naturally, fell in line.

Jet’s hand firmly gripped Roach’s shoulder as he leaned both of them closer to each other, starting to walk him closer to the car. “Look. Roach. I need you on this mission. Full attention. You can not falter, do you understand me?” Jet growled in a low tone by Roach’s ear before the taller man nodded. “Good. Now. You and I are going to take these sons of bitches to the prison. And we are going to lock them up. When we get through this, alive, you and I will have a chat about listening.” Roach felt his whole body shiver at the final words. He knew the tone and the wording well. It wouldn’t just be a lecture. The rest of Jet’s ‘problem solving’ with unobedient team members usually resulted in a brawl of some sort in the training ring, with creative insults or a worse punishment that made a person doubt their abilities. Provided that they had decided to do something that’s not according to Jet’s order and ended poorly or threatened to end the mission poorly.

Jet’s go to for Roach was how clumsy he can be. Sometimes the man was sloppy or had a bad luck streak during missions with falling or near death experiences that he always came back from. But it slowly started to not affect the freckled man as much as Jet would like. He was losing his grip on Roach. Even now, the taller male was slipping through his fingers and Roach couldn’t tell if it frightened the man or not. “Now let’s go.” Jet released Roach’s shoulder before he marched his way to the driver side of the car. He seemed tenser than usual. Was this getting to Jet? Was it that stressful for their leader that this goes well?

Roach didn’t argue though. Even if he wanted to, this wasn’t the time nor palace for it and he knew it. So he got into the passenger side of the car, making sure his ammo was good in his pistol and rifle as Jet started up the vehicle. It roared to life before the raven haired man started to drive it to the location of the prison. “What’s gotten into you Roach?” Jet asked in a softer tone. He always did a 180 whenever it came to Roach and going behind closed doors. Or at least closed doors when it came to their teammates. It wasn’t like the Vaqueros in the back would care about the two men’s relationship when they had helped capture Fuerzas Especiales and had detained them.

Sometimes, it felt like Roach was Jet’s favorite. “Nothing.” Roach responded monotonously as Jet started up the car.

He knew better than to sign when someone was driving, especially when it came to the pistol in his hand and his eyes out the window, making sure that as they left Los Vaqueros’ base, there was no one following them. Of course that’s also what Crash’s, Rico’s, and Void’s job was as well.

“You know I don’t like it when you lie, my little bug.” Jet continued. The pet name made Roach itch in all the worst ways. It caused his nose to scrunch up at the sickly sweet tone Jet was using. “Let’s just get this over with.” He responded back, having a firmer tone which only made Jet back off. At least for now. The drive was silent to the location. Or, well, silent between the two Shadow Company soldiers. Every so often their captives would bang against the plastic with their shoes or the one not gagged would yell swear or two at the men in front of them. Roach tried to not let it get to him as he made sure to memorize every detail of the drive. Every turn, every notable landmark, almost nothing went by him that he could see. He would need it. Either to return to Fuerzas Especiales’ base or just in case he needed to return to the prison.

As they approached the prison, the sun had started to set and the clouds had gathered, making the area darker. It felt like proper lighting as they pulled up to the tall walls that outline the complex. Towers about every 40 feet along the wall. Some bits of the walls had a v shaped crumble to it, the bricks and stone laying to waste on the outside. It was old and probably was abandoned for a while. That or, it was left to decay to avoid suspicion. After all, Roach had zero idea of how Graves found this place and took it over. But he did. And now, Shadow Company soldiers ran the complex. They were stopped at the prison gates by fellow Shadow Company soldiers to check and make sure it was indeed Shadow 7 with new and final captives.

“You guys didn’t happen to find Rodolfo Parra did you?” A Shadow asked all too casually after doing a quick check of who was in the cars. “No… Do we not have Rodolfo?” Jet questioned, his eyes narrowing. “Shit… Looks like we don’t. He’s just one man though right? As long as we have his team and 141 isn’t a problem, we should be fine.” The man responded with a shrug as he looked at Jet. “Yeah. We should.” The Shadow 7 team leader agreed, casting a glance at Roach. The masked man couldn’t read the expression. It was either accusatory or letting his second in command know that he didn’t believe what he agreed to. Rodolfo was a Sergeant Major and close to Alejandro. There was no way that he wasn’t a threat.

Jet rolled up his window once he and his group were given the clear to enter the complex. “I feel like whoever was tasked with taking out Rodolfo’s section should’ve captured him. He’s going to be a problem.” Jet grumbled as they drove down the dirt path. Roach agreed with a nod as their car went through the gates.

Roach hadn’t met the Sergeant Major himself, but the respect the men he interacted with had for him was strong, not as strong as Alejandro. Though a good leader usually has a good second in command.

The inside of the walls had multiple smaller buildings that needed a touch up. It felt on par with the area because there was a maze of decaying smaller walls throughout the area. One big building flanked the side. There was no doubt that’s where Shadow Company would be keeping who they rounded up from Los Vaqueros. It seemed like the main building of the prison, the grey wall having small pebbles lining it from the decay of the tops of the walls. It sent an invisible shiver down Roach’s spine as he wondered how cleaned up the place was or if they had just snatched it up and made sure the controls worked.

The cars stopped as close as they could to the building. They were lined up almost bumper to bumper, allowing some space for a person to get through as the vehicles were positioned in front of a set of two doors. There were a couple of Shadow Company soldiers positioned by it, looking bored as they looked around, one gently nudging a small pebble with his foot. Shadow 7 all left their respective vehicles, with Jet and Roach grabbing the two Vaqueros from the backseats of their car, Void and Cupcake doing the same. Roach tugged out the one he gagged, giving a sorrowful glance to the man who only shot daggers back. The Shadow Company soldier then forced the man over to the entrance, falling instep with Jet. Cupcake and Void followed in behind the two while Crash, Rico and Skunk brought up the rear.

Roach let himself slip back into his thoughts as the group made their way into what seemed to be the cafeteria. It was a good size given the building felt massive, but it was barren, chairs left in their original position by the last prisoners who had had their last meal in these walls. A couple of Shadows speckled on the walkway above, hinting at future use of the empty room, or perhaps just making sure that the group of seven were indeed with Shadow Company and bringing the captives to the correct spot. Something didn’t feel right. There were too many Shadows here for it to just be the 3 teams. Did Graves bring the rest of the PMC strictly for this? The best of the best would be stationed to capture and detain Los Vaqueros alive and bring them to the prison while the rest would be brought in to guard the prison and be stationed elsewhere? Roach couldn’t believe how secretive Graves was about this. Sure there had been secretive missions beforehand, but nothing this big. Nothing that brought the entire fleet of soldiers trained underneath the man’s watchful eyes. They usually all had different missions they would complete. How much was General Shepherd paying Graves to pull this off?

The seven made their way through the rest of the prison silently. Each person that was pushing forward a Vaquero moved their respective soldier into an empty cell. The group had to do it systematically, the control panel being further down the hall for the doors to open and close. The Vaqueros were surprisingly silent for the time being, as if each one was trying to work something out. Before Roach put his in, he took the t-shirt off, figuring it would at least feel better before he got the information over the comms to remove their zip ties. Roach obeyed before pushing the man in, hearing him curse as he rubbed his wrists. The door quickly closed behind him before the Shadow Company soldier regrouped with the rest of Shadow 7.

“Alright. Crash, Rico, Skunk and Void, you four will stay here. Cupcake, Roach and I are heading back to the Mexican Special Forces’ base to help make sure that Graves can either successfully detain or discourage Alejandro, Ghost and Soap from doing anything. Rico will be incharge until we return, any orders he gets or gives follow to a T. Good luck.” Jet ordered before gesturing for Cupcake and Roach to follow him. Roach casted a glance to the four they were leaving behind before he nodded his head in a farewell. The rest did the same before Cupcake and Roach followed Jet back to the vehicles. Roach hopped back into the front passenger seat as Jet climbed into the driver’s side, Cupcake taking a different vehicle with a few other Shadow Company soldiers.

The air was thick between the two like it usually was after a small disagreement. Roach kept his gaze away from Jet as the raven haired man started to drive the car back to the base location of Fuerzas Especiales. “We can’t keep doing things like this Roach.” Jet’s voice, that was for once soft, broke the silence. “You’re my second in command. If I have you doubting not just my decisions, but Graves’ orders. It’s not going to look good for us.” He huffed slightly. “I know you don’t agree with what is happening. It’s unfair. But we’re paid to do a job and then leave. Nothing more. Nothing less. So help your team do their job so they won’t end up dead by the hands of the enemy.” His voice started to harden by the last sentence, the man’s eyes darting over to Roach before returning his attention to the road. Jet’s words shouldn’t have hit Roach as hard as they did with the way his mind was teetering back and forth between following orders or not. He knew that via the contract that kept him employed at Shadow Company, yes. He shouldn’t disobey orders. However there was a clause, a clause that he knew well mainly because he gets bored easily and would reread the contract to keep it fresh in his memory. Roach would not be punished in any way for disobeying orders if it meant saving more lives, especially of his fellow soldiers. But this mission felt like one where that would be broken and the dirty blond couldn’t entirely figure out why.

“Bug-” “-I understand.” Roach was quick to respond, harshness filling his tone as he didn’t want to hear more of Jet’s coaxing to follow his command. It wasn’t often that they’d have this much static between them on a mission, but it was building. Once again the ride was silent as Jet drove the vehicle back to the base, Roach keeping his eye on his surroundings as usual.

It wasn’t raining yet, but when Roach stepped out of the vehicle, he could smell it through his mask. It spelled heavy rain.

Jet and Roach silently met up with Cupcake, who glanced at the two tense men before asking, “So what’s our post, Jet?” The blond asked in a cautious tone, clearly seeing the strain between the two as if it was a string in front of him. The line being pulled taut. “Cupcake, you will be sweeping the buildings with Shadow 4 and Shadow 5, checking to see if Rodolfo was stupid enough to stay here. Roach and I will be by the main gate for when Graves, Alejandro, Ghost and Soap arrive. Keep an ear out on your radio. I doubt these men will go easily.”

Cupcake nodded before parting from the group. He headed towards the building as the other two walked to the gate. Rain had just started to drizzle down as the men made their silent trek to the guarded entrance to Fuerzas Especiales.

Bright lights were shining in the distance, indicating that the duo got back just in time to see the four men return. The two glanced at each other, a silent agreement to get their rifles ready, so they slung them from over their shoulders into their hands, pointing the barrel down before they started to jog. They were still a distance away from the gate and they could not be late for the inevitability that Alejandro, Ghost and Soap wouldn’t go down without a fight. Their boots hitting against the blackened and soon wet road as the rain started to slowly come down heavier.

The gate had two lanes, one for going in, one for going out. The ceiling was propped up with eight steel beams, four being above each building that were on either side of the road. There were two barrier gate arms, one for each road, alternating in white and red, one was down, the other was up as the vehicles pulled to a stop, one under the cement cover that was lifted many feet above the vehicles.

Then they saw Alejandro, Graves, Soap and Ghost exit the vehicles. Graves was first, his rifle pointed down at the ground before his head looked over at the Colonel as he spoke. “What’s this?” Alejandro’s voice was barely heard as he quickly closed the car’s door and started towards Graves. Jet and Roach had just approached the gate, the Colonel’s arm gesturing to the Shadow Company soldiers that were stationed at the gate instead of his men.

“This is the immediate future.” Graves responded calmly. The pit in Roach’s stomach worsened as Jet and Roach took up positions by the black vehicle. “Step away from the gate.” Graves’ words weren’t a suggestion, they were an order. Roach could see Ghost glancing over at Soap and Alejandro, his eyes carefully sweeping the area as he did so. The masked man was smart, Roach had to give him that, but until he reacted, the freckled man couldn’t do anything. 

“Waht?!” Soap’s disapproving and confused word rang through the rain as it continued to pour down.

“You heard me.” The Shadow Company Commander responded, keeping his tone cool and collected.

“Are you crazy?” Alejandro sounded like he didn’t believe what the blonde was telling him. His voice started to get agitated as his arms gestured to the buildings behind Graves. “This is my base.”

“It’s not a base.” Graves corrected as he shuffled forward slightly. “This is a… Sizable, covert facility. And I admire it.” A slight smile parted his lips before he continued to speak. “So I’m taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service.”

“No no no. I don’t take orders from you” Alejandro’s eyes were focused on Graves, brow furrowing. Disbelief and pure hatred written all over his features at the gall that the American had for taking over his base. His voice was quiet as if he was trying to keep his cool, his arms fidgeting forward as if he was trying to work out some of his anger while he spoke.

Graves took another shift forward, eyes narrowing as he cooly taunted, “Didn’t Valeria say that?” There was a pause that made the air stiffen with tension, a firm and subtly accusatory tone filling his next words. “Now that makes me wonder what else I don’t know about your affiliation with a drug lord.” Alejandro glanced back at Soap, clearly trying to keep his cool while also silently asking the 141 member if Graves’ was out of his mind as the PMC leader pointed at the Colonel with two fingers near the end of his sentence. Roach could feel the straws being gripped with his superior’s words. This was insane. Was this practiced? It had to be. Everyone knew these men wouldn’t go down without a fight. So why was he choosing such antagonistic words?

A disbelieving huff left Alejandro before he softly asked, “What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo?” He took a few slow steps forward, looking down at the man with a strained smile as Soap came up behind him. He gently put a hand on Alejandro’s shoulder, slightly tugging the taller male back as if to warn him to back off.

“You’re oot of line, Graves.” Soap said, jabbing a finger at him. Roach shifted nervously. The three were all within a foot or two of each other. If Alejandro wanted, he could disarm the American, but he didn’t. “Don’t do that.” Graves said, pointing his finger back, choosing to take a few steps back. “Don’t… Do that.” His voice was somewhat playful, before it turned firm, his pointing hand moving to insinuate his words. “No one needs to get hurt here.”

“Are you thre’tinin’ us?” Ghost asked, his voice loud and echoing through the air to make sure he was heard from the other side of the front of the second parked vehicle as he shuffled forward. The Shadows had slowly started to herd in, not enough to cause suspicion, but enough so that they could glance over at each other and silently communicate, making sure each person knew things were escalating to a not ideal point.

“Soldier, I don’t make threats.” The American paused, his eyes sweeping over the three opposing men. “ I make guarantees.” Graves paused, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked between Alejandro and Soap, the Scot’s hand sliding off of the Colonel’s shoulder “So let’s not do this.”

There was a pause that felt like it lasted a long time despite only being a few seconds. “I’m callin’ Shepherd.” Soap sourly replied, only able to turn around and take a few steps before Graves responded. “General Shepherd sends his regards.” The mohawked man then stopped. Roach couldn’t see his face, but the way the conversation was going, he could only guess the disbelief written on the man’s face because of the situation. “He told me y’all wouldn’t take this well.” “He knows about this?!” Ghost’s words seemed to echo the men’s thoughts, his voice annoyed to the degree of anger that had been boiling over for a while. “He’s put me in command of this operation from here on out.” Graves quickly said as Soap shuffled back around, his attention full on the man with still muscles. “So y’all need to stand down. It’s time to let the pros finish this.” Roach had to stop himself from letting out a laughing huff. In his mind Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros were the professionals. Shadow Company was just a bunch of hired men who didn’t want to go into the military for their own reasons. Then the freckled man’s attention went to Ghost and Soap, they had exchanged looks. Something was up and Roach shifted into a more readied position. Jet noticed, glancing at Roach and following suit, making his way around the front of the black car to get closer to Graves. “And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.” Graves continued to speak firmly and quickly, raising his voice at the last word. Authority and threats thrown with just the sound of his voice. “I’ve got my orders.” He said, gesturing to himself with his hand before pointing back at Alejandro and Soap. “And you have yours.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabrón?” Alejandro matched Graves’ energy, his voice having a bit more anger in it as he said his last word a bit louder. “MY MEN ARE INSIDE!” Despite the attempt at keeping his voice calm, the man roared out those four words. The fire inside the Colonel could be labeled as a forest fire, and Roach only hoped the next thing out of Graves’ mouth wouldn’t add fuel to it.

“I’m afraid not.” He was throwing a canister of gasoline towards the roaring flames and Roach’s hands gripped his rifle tightly. “Your men have been…” Graves paused, no doubt thinking of how to ‘calmly’ put his next word, his lips smacking slightly “Detained.”

If looks could kill, Alejandro would be labeled with first degree. But no one had time to register that before the Colonel grabbed Graves by the shoulders, the man then acted in kind and shoved Alejandro into the nearby vehicle. Jet then quickly went and detained the taller man with a zip tie. “Graves, What the FUCK?!” Soap yelled out the last word, another Shadow going around Graves as the commander readied his weapon. Shots were fired at Soap as the man went behind the Shadow that was slowly creeping up on him this whole time. His beefy arm wrapped around the man’s neck as he used the soldier as a body shield while the Shadow Company soldiers struggled to free himself.

Roach stayed beside the car, rifle up and pointed at Soap, eyes narrowed with caution, but his finger never even hovered over the trigger. Roach’s attention was brought to Ghost, the masked man quickly elbowing the Shadow behind him before taking out a knife. He slashed at another soldier that was nearby, the man dodging back as he went to fire at Ghost before being shoved against the car. The blade soon found its place in the Shadow’s neck. Movement drew Ghost’s gaze to the man he had stunned before removing the knife and throwing it at the soldier who was trying to charge the man. Roach stood frozen though, his eyes on the fight as his brain took the worst time ever to stutter. Alejandro had managed to get his arms around Jet, who had him pressed against the car, and was choking him. “Get your fucking hands off of me-” He growled out. Before Roach could react, Graves hit Alejandro in the head with the butt of his rifle, sending the two men to the floor as Jet gasped back to life. Roach was quick to go over and help Jet out from behind the Colonel’s hands as he heard a gun fire by him. It was returned by Soap as he unholstered a pistol from the Shadow he was holding hostage. The bullets landed into the Shadow Company soldier and he went down. Roach then shot at Soap from his crouched position, one of the bullets hitting the man in his arm. A gasp of pain left Soap and sent him to the ground before Graves took it as an opportunity to go check in on Ghost. The masked man had maneuvered to the back side of the car. “Go Johnny! Get out of there!” Roach could barely hear his panicked voice as the freckled male stood up, carefully moving forward to the man on the ground. “Soap- Go!” There was desperation in the English accent before the mohawked man shoved the Shadow Company soldier off of him. The movement made Roach shoot at Soap, and whether on accident or on purpose, none of the bullets hit the fleeing man as he launched himself over the cement barrier.

Graves looked over, displeasure clearly etched on his face as his lips were pulled in a tight line. “Get him- Now!” He barked as Roach quickly moved forward, but the Shadow that was on the ground moved faster, popping up over the barrier to shoot at Soap and getting a face full of lead as Roach positioned himself right besides the now deceased man, shooting at the fleeing man, watching as his silhouette soon blend in with the trees. Roach cursed underneath his mask, feeling Graves approach his side as their eyes scanned the trees. He could hear the disappointed sigh from the man before the Commander turned his attention back to where he had left Ghost. “You there, Ghost?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm as he raised his rifle to the rear of the car, slowly approaching it as he continued to speak after a short pause. “That was a big mistake, brother.” His voice was irritated, masked beyond what he actually felt as his last word uncovered some rough twang in his voice. “It did not have to be like this.” The man sideshuffled, leaning to the side as he poked over the corner of the vehicle to find nothing. Somehow, the masked man snuck away. “Sonuvabitch.” Graves cursed before shouting to Roach, “Find ‘em!” The freckled man nodded before checking on Jet, bringing him up. “Are-?” He started to speak. “The fuck was that, Roach?” Jet gasped softly as he stood up with the help of his second in command. The dirty blond didn’t respond as he looked away. “Doesn’t matter.” He gruffly responded as he panted, looking at the passed out Alejandro on the ground, icy blue eyes searing with hatred. His hand rubbed his throat that had a bruise starting to form the Colonel choking the American out. “Shadows, this is Graves. Shadow 1 I want you to take Alejandro Vargas to the prison. Shadows 2, 3 and 7, you’re with me. We’re sweeping Las Almas for Ghost and Soap. They are to be killed on sight.” Graves’ voice rang out in the rain as well as being echoed on their radio.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Omg this was such a long chapter holy shit. Let me know if you want me to keep longer chapters like this together or separate cause I'm kind of on the fence about it. Either waaaaaay. Tension is building and we're finally intertwining with the in game lore! Hope y'all enjoyed!

@fastleopard1521 - @whateverdraws1008 - @glitter-anon-asks - @olibird - @chaosgoblindoodles

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[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

daydreaming about shadow company kitchen au while im at work. restaurant manager graves. head chef rex. sous chef wasp. chef de partie spitfire. flat top cook sparks. sautee cook maverick.

[7s3ven]

Guys, I’m going feral over thinking about deer hybrid! Reader x Philip Graves. Might make this into a series if I’m bothered LOL. I like the idea.

Imagine in this au, hybrids are rare. Especially you who looks entirely human save for the white and brown freckles adorning your skin and the gentle doe ears that flick occasionally.

You were a tagged hybrid, slang for a hybrid in danger of becoming nothing more than a test subject. You were prized for your unique blend of both human and animal characteristics. However, the company holding you captive forgot one thing. You were still part animal and it was in your instincts to run.

You met Graves after you collapsed on the road while sprinting away from the laboratory, your keen ears picking up the shouts coming from the guards.

You thought yourself as lucky that a car had been passing through the area when you fell. “What is it?” Someone exited the vehicle followed by another.

“It’s a hybrid… a deer one. I think. Can’t really tell.”

“It’s clearly a deer. What else would it be? A bird?”

They bickered amongst themselves before one had the initiative to pull out a walkie talkie. “Boss, we’ve encountered a hybrid on the road. Not sure how old she is, maybe late twenties? She’s a deer hybrid, has a few wounds, and she’s tagged. Your orders? Over.”

The pair waited half a beat before there was a response.

“Why would I want a hybrid?”

“She’s one of the valuable ones, sir. Maybe she can be useful. She was running quite fast before she blacked out. Doubt she’s been fed so to run at that speed on an empty stomach is impressive.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine, bring her in.”

You didn’t officially meet Graves until a week later when he finally paid you a visit.

He watched in concealed awe at the way you gracefully moved, even when you were confined to a bed. You stared up at him, your soft doe eyes burning holes. He found you strangely captivating and it was in that moment he realized you could be useful after all.

Your aim with a gun was surprisingly good. If Graves was going to keep you, he needed you to be capable of protecting yourself. He spent at least a few hours each day just watching you fire a round of shots. His presence was no longer required but you seemed to enjoy his company.

Apart from Graves and the two Shadows who picked you up off the road, you didn’t speak to anyone else. You were shy to the point where sometimes, you didn’t even utter a word to Graves.

Within months, it became apparent as to where your loyalties lay. You answered to Graves and him alone. To you, his words was the law. If a command did not come from Graves, you did not follow it.

Some people found it annoying… but Graves adored it.

You followed Philip Graves everywhere he went, which also meant you tagged along on his shared mission with the Mexican Special Forces Operator and Task Force 141.

BONUS

You were his personal sniper, a gun gifted by Graves strapped to your back.

“Who’s the pretty lass?” A Scottish man asked as you trailed behind Graves. He gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

Graves barely spared him a look. “My sniper.” He cockily answered, an undeniable smugness to his sharp words. “You don’t need to know her name.”

There were questioning looks exchanged between the teammates before Graves clicked his fingers, effortlessly gaining your attention. He leaned down, fully aware of the eyes following his every move.

“Doe.” He uttered the pet name you were accustomed to. Then he spoke in a foreign language, one only you could understand. Then he pointed at a tree nearby. You didn’t need any further instructions as you stepped forward, grasping your rifle. The others watched with raised brows, patiently waiting for something to happen.

There was a loud bang as you pressed the sensitive trigger of your gun. The bullet flew through the air, hitting the tree with pinpoint accuracy. You fired three more shots, hitting the exact same spot and drilling a hole into the trunk.

With practised ease, you lowered the gun. You heard Graves chuckle before he spoke. “Trained her myself.” He beckoned you back to his side and you obeyed without another thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as an act of dominance to the others. “She listens to my commands and mine only so don’t think for a second that her loyalties will change.”

Graves reached out to grasp your necklace, showing it to the whole group. It was a heart with his name engraved on it. “She belongs to me and if any of you muppets even look at her funny, it won’t end well for you.”

[shadow0-1]

Retired

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[rifledfrvr]

Graves X hybrid (deer) Reader.

i have not been able to stop thinking of this. 😖🙏

In this universe, hybrids are extremely rare. Most of them are used as experimental subjects due to their rare genetics and unique features. Not to mention, they are rarely respected and in the rare change they don't live their short lives in a lab - often they are pushed to militaries.

You (Reader) are a deer hybrid, mostly human save for the deer genetics, gentle white specks flicking across your skin, and the soft doe ears hidden in your soft curls. Most hybrids were well, circus freaks - more animal than human, aggressive, unintelligent, or otherwise just a messed up scramble of genetics. That is why you are so prized, being mostly human yet maintaining that blend meant you were perfect.

Nonetheless, on a cold night in a lonely room of the company, they seemed to have forgotten some of your instincts. A door was left cracked open, and your curiosity took forth as well as your animalistic instincts to run. Slipping through the facility and running out onto the road extremely exhausted, passing out on a luckily not occupied road.

The pulling over of a loud truck could be heard as you were on the ground half unconscious. Felt a bright light, maybe from a flashlight, on your face, ( it was a gun being pointed ) As your face was visible, the gun was lowered, the barrel no longer looking directly at you.

"I found somethin'!" A southern voice barked towards a direction, followed by the opening of truck doors and steps in the direction of you. One stepped out, followed by another. Three men, three shadows.

"The hell is that?" A voice questioned lowly, stepping closer.

Another crouched down, and you felt their hand tilt your face upwards gingerly, but you lacked the recognition to see what was properly happening. Awestruck on his features for a second, a hybrid-looking humanoid was extremely rare.

"Seems like a hybrid. A deer one, I suppose?" The second one spoke, before letting go of your face, you no longer felt the feeling of calloused hands.

The second threaded a hand through his short hair in thought, his features tense before reaching for his comms.

"Boss, we found a humanoid lookin' hybrid on the street. Wounded, looks like a young adult. Do we bring her in? What are your orders? Over." He spoke into the device, as the others simply observed you for a moment.

...

"The hell would I need a hybrid for?" A southern voice cracks through , seemingly a bit annoyed. He must have been busy at the moment.

"This one's a rare one. Deer hybrids were smart - well, I heard. This one must have been really smart to escape from whatever facility they were from... " He rambled on a bit, before being interrupted by Graves.

"Bring her in, Fine." He grumbled, his southern accent tinging his words with a soft sigh after he spoke.

...

You stayed in a dull room for pretty much a month, while the shadows did cater to you as necessary you were extremely shy. As a gentle creature ( a deer ) you were a bit anxious about new people and extremely shy. You'd only have spoken to one shadow properly, the one who catered to your wounds when you first arrived.

When Graves came in you were concealed, or bound down to the bed as per usual. For a while, most of the soldiers were entranced by how graceful and fluid your movements were and Graves was no exception. The second he saw you - he decided then and there you'd be his assistant with no other words. The way your beady eyes stared up - with an odd trace of calm embedded into them told him enough for his decision to be made.

You had to be trained, before this you had never even held a gun. You were a real good shot - except for the fact you'd get a bit shaky at the loud noises. The gentle deer ears that decored your soft curls would flick and your hands would shake at the loud Bang of the weapon.

That's when Graves began to train you more often on his own, rather than getting his Shadow's to do it, he was pretty rarely free but he made time for you. Over time, you got over that fear and began to adore his company as your loyalty grew - you followed his every order without a second thought.

Your unwavering loyalty began to lay on Graves strictly quickly over the span of the few months you became an indispensable assistant. He'd bought you most , if not everything you had. He'd buy you jewelry as a small reward for doing good in trainings, plus he couldn't deny he enjoyed spoiling you. He loved dressing you up like you were his own dolly, so beaded jewelry and lacy necklaces became a normal for you when available.

As for the shy thing, that never went away - you'd hide behind him a lot. Rarely talk, you'd speak to him but even that was rare. You preferred quiet, and silent conversations. Often times he'd take you along with him for everything around the base. You have the authority to walk by him, not behind due to his affections toward you. You were such a gentle creature, how could he ever treat you as if you were below him?

... extra ;;

You were walking to the meeting hall which he was in , speaking with the Shadows . He instructed you to do some shooting practice while he was gone and report back to him once you finished with results that would satisfy him. You gentle opened the door, and his gaze met yours quickly, his features softened a tad as he beckoned you to his side. You followed suit immediately, recognizing the silent command. He wrapped an arm around your waist possessively as he continued going over mission debriefs he had to finish up. The mission has everyone extremely stressed , but he eased up with his arm around you.

....

You hated loud noises. The uneasiness, the unexpectedness, the lack of security they came with made you sick to your stomach. Despite your lack of words, that was the one thing clear about you that spoke for itself. The way when a loud thud was heard, even if you weren't outwardly startled the way you'd look toward Graves immediately, flinch toward the gun gifted to you by him you kept strapped on your back, or the way you'd examine the room immediately all pointed toward that. Nonetheless, it was a rough night - Graves had already noticed something odd with you. You were fidgeting with your hand a lot, and you kept looking around as if something was going to get you. It was the night of a big mission so the buzzing of soilders was worse than usual, military vehicles being prepped , etc riddled your soft ears.

It was nighttime, and you couldn't sleep. You typically slept on the same room as Graves - He didn't want you running. You had a bed in the same room as him, which was plush and always adorned with blankets. Hesitantly, you shifted upwards - his eyes caught the moment immediately.

" Can't sleep, doe ? " He questioned in the familiar southern accent , using the pet name he used just for you.

You let out a shaky hum as he motioned it was okay for you to climb up on his bed, which you did without hesitation as you wanted security . You had began to find security in the southern man, finding him a reliable source.

"Your okay, darlin' " He mummers, pulling you into his arms while his words were muffled by the coils on your head.

alright, this is one of my first ever writings and so please be kind to me. this was inspired by another persons great work, and i just wanted to continue on it // write my own version due to my mini obsession with it. Please let me know if anybody has requests!

edit;; OH MY GOD 98 LIKES????? HELP

#philip graves #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod graves #shadow company #cod mw3 #tf 141 #alejandro vargas #cod modern warfare #cod phillip graves #hybrid au #new writer #writing #fandom #reader x character #reader x call of duty #philip graves x reader #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #modern warfare 2 # shadow company x reader #deerhybrid

[lxvvie]

Cattle Rancher!Graves.

Welcome to the Graveyard, finest fuckin’ farm you’ve ever seen in your life! Land and cattle (and some alpacas) as far as the eye can see.

These hands ain’t just good for massages and barbecue, darlin’, oh hell no. The blood, sweat, and tears put into this place, built up into the finely tuned, well-oiled machine it is, that takes years of dedication. Bet you ain’t never seen such finely cared for and loved animals, eh, darlin’? Well look no further, you have now!

Oh… who’s the—the donkey? Oh, that’s Darla. Been protecting this farm for as long as memory serves. Hell, she probably thinks she does a better job than the dogs.

What? She don’t bite, darlin’. Promise. She just—“Dammit, Darla, I done told you to be nice to our guests. Who the hell’s gonna take me?”

Ahem. Right. Sorry ‘bout that.

Now… how ‘bout that tour, sweetheart?

[applbottmjeens]

"It's not an act of love if you make her."

-Labor, Paris Paloma

The Queen of Hearts was born out of Phillip Graves' urge to squeeze out the potential out of what he saw as his prized possession. Holding the very wellbeing and safety of her son over her head, he'd coerce her back onto the field, back to being his soldier. Once untameable, now on a chain, the wildchild she was has been broken down to a piece on the chessboard that's as hard to control as it is powerful.

Regina Cordibus.

When you live for anyone but yourself, how much of you is left?

And how do you break free?

-

BIG BIG UPS TO @sleepyconfusedpotato OH MY GOD OH MY DAYS BEHOLD HER WORK IN ALL ITS GLORY.

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

My Dadler and Graveson Au in order!

Ok so this is basically an organization post for my dadler and graveson au+141

this specific au is where Adler becomes 141's handler after shepards courtcase.

first mention of au (its number 5 on the list) post

2. 141 reactions and interactions with adler post

3. 141 reaction to finding out Adler is phillip dad post

4. Wood's introduction to 141 post

5. Headcannons for this au post

6. pt2 of wood's introduction post

7. pt3 of wood's introduction post

8. 141 reaction to woods post

[thechaoticcheese]

TW: Mentioning of burning and shooting

Shadow Company Roach AU - Extra Chapter - Roach's Nightmare

Ghost wasn’t going to sleep that night. Or at least he wasn’t planning on it. Missions had been rough for both him and Roach the past few weeks with… Everything. Ghost let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed, one hand tucked underneath his head as the fabric graced his glove, his other hand resting on the thin blanket that was provided by the military. He always found it weird that they could afford good clothes and weapons, but decided to cut fundings when it came to things like bedding and certain furniture. His brows furrowed at the thought, though he didn’t have much time to think about it when everything went dark.

He must’ve fallen asleep, having only seen a flash of the usual nightmares he had before he felt something wrapping around his stomach. At first, he thought it was the nightmare, but that had ended. His eyes flicked open as he quickly sat up with a deep inhale to find Roach, his face was plastered against Ghost’s abs, his usual black mask a bit off kiltered due to the Brit’s movement. He gently fixed the American’s mask as his eyes softened. Whatever the dirty blond had done opened a part of himself that he didn’t think he could feel, and it felt warm and fuzzy, like if he held a steaming cup of tea against his chest.

Ghost was quick to realize that something was wrong with Roach. He knew the male loves physical contact, but he tried not to wake Ghost from his sleep when he tried to get it. Roach knew better. Something was clouding his judgement.

“What’s wrong, love?” Ghost’s voice was soft, despite how gruff his voice sounds whenever he just woke up. His gloved hands trailed through the ever messy locks of Roach’s head. He could feel the American shake his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. Which was fine to Ghost, but it always hit something that made him want to try to fix the way Roach was feeling. The Brit only sighed though, gently bringing his free hand to the middle of Roach’s back, gently guiding the shorter male up as he shifted to lean against the wall. He knew these kinds of nights. All too familiar with them in fact. Have a dream, a nightmare, that consumes you after you wake from it, even in the middle of the night, and despite how exhausted you felt, it wouldn’t let you sleep.

Roach eventually shifted upwards, resting his head against Ghost’s chest. His ear right above his heart. Ghost gave a curious glance as he watched the male move. Then a thought flickered in the back of his mind. Was the dream about him? Did the nightmare consist of losing Ghost?

He felt like the tight arms around his back gave him the answers. Ghost gently rested his chin on Roach’s head, wishing he could feel the strands of hair against his skin directly and not just the phantom of their touch on the fabric.

“S’okay. I’m ‘ere.” Ghost murmurs gently as his hand that was previously resting on Roach’s back starts to slowly maneuver up and down, feeling his clothes fold onto itself as his glove attempts to glide against the fabric, only causing them to stick more together and cause friction. His eyes were half closed as he looked straight ahead.

“You’re here…” Roach’s voice was a surprise. The usually silent man never spoke unless absolutely necessary, defaulting to ASL and what little BSL he knew. Ghost felt his arm tighten around his back as another word left his shaky lips, “Alive…”

Ghost closed his eyes fully, taking in a slow, deep breath as his thoughts were confirmed. Roach’s dream was about losing him. It still boggled the Brit’s mind how quickly the two latched onto each other. While he couldn’t pin a specific moment, he knew it had to have been fate. Roach was a part of Shadow Company, a group that wanted 141 dead in Las Almas. Hell, he was lucky that Ghost didn’t put a bullet in his head when Roach and Soap were approaching the church that night. Or maybe Ghost should be considering himself lucky to be holding the American in his vulnerable state. His brows furrowed as he felt Roach starting to move away, his instincts wanting to pull the darker blond closer to him, but he refused to let his instincts win. Ghost’s eyes snapped open to see Roach staring at the floor, giving a glance as the masked man, as if checking to see if he was looking at him.

‘Sorry.’ Roach signed. They weren’t a thing, not yet. Just friends. Or, at least that’s what both of them told themselves.

“S’alright. Nightmares suck.” Ghost responded before softly grunting as he sat up, carefully swinging his legs behind Roach so they could sit next to each other. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?” Ghost knew it was a long shot, however, Roach’s hazel eyes seemed to be considering the offer.

‘I remember us being shot.’ Roach started to sign with shaky hands, pausing as his eyes glistened with tears all too eager to come out. The smaller male wiped his sleeve over his eyes, the fabric picking up any loose drops before he continued. ‘Then dragged through a forest. Someone looked at us with pity, before dumping gasoline on us. I remember reaching for your hand before feeling my skin start to melt off…’

Roaches hands slowly drifted down as the tears came back through his retelling of the nightmare. He clasped his hands together and brought them in gingerly towards his stomach, as if reliving the touch of dream Ghost’s hand in his.

Ghost’s heart twisted slightly at the thought of the two being burned alive after being shot, or perhaps it was because Roach had the nightmare at all. His arms wrapped around Roach as he gently held the dirty blond in his arms, pressing his head against his chest, one hand resting on the back of his head as his fingers got entangled with the American’s locks.

“We ain’t burnin’. Nothin’ like that ‘ill happen. I promise.” Ghost vowed as he hoped his soothing words hit a cord with Roach as much as the protectiveness inside his chest swelled. If he could go into that dream and kick whoever’s ass for making Roach feel this way he would, provided he survived the fire.

His thoughts were brought back to the moment as he felt Roach wrap his arms around Ghost’s back once more, feeling him shift and silently cry into his hoodie. The Brit’s grip gently tightened against Roach.

He wouldn’t anything like that happen, ever.

~~~~~~

A/N: I did not proof read this at all. Y'all enjoy the GhostRoach.

Edited A/N: Reread it finally(hours after posting), made a couple of fixes.

@fastleopard1521 - @whateverdraws1008 - @glitter-anon-asks - @olibird - @chaosgoblindoodles

[femoso-seben]

Livestock AU pt. 2

pt.1,

- Kangal! Price and Llama! Alejandro are very proud of their land and territory. Alejandro only lets in a few dogs Price of course they’re old friends and Border Collie! Gaz, on one condition, Alejandro does the discipline.

- The ewes hybrid finds Alejandro very handsome and he always gets the treats the farmer gives the sheep. The small Lambs will scream and cry if they get lost and Alejandro will go rescue them.

- When rams are introduced into the herd Alejandro has to give the poor ram hybrid a long list of Dos and Don’ts (mostly don’t). Alejandro is highly protective of his ewes and will not take disrespect towards them.

- the heard of sheep is renounced for their wool production so theirs about 6,000 sheep Gaz is the only heard dog working there (because Al can not stand anyone else than agreeable Gaz)

- Gaz has befriended most of the Ewes and has a good rapport with most of the Ewes there is one older one, who gives him shit and calls him Sonny, Honey, and Sweetpea while not moving.

- Gaz does a lot of bearding of the sheep walking the parameter and reporting back to Alejandro. Alejandro spends most of his time with the Lambs or pregnant Ewes who walk the field. He chooses to be in the center of the herd.

- Price speaks with the head farmer often with Laswell to protect the farm better, then spread out to tell their underlings.

- Kangel! Ghost mostly walks around the perimeter of the farm’s land marking his territory and scenting the area to keep pesty coyotes and wolves away. Usually Barn Cat! Roach follows after Ghost

- Ghost struggles to socialize with the other dogs and sees all herds as his true family. The Farmers had to socialize with him and Ghost bonded with Price first, shadowing him before branching off

- Ghost have the deepest scariest bark and the first time all the herd animals heard it they ran for it hiding behind their guardian.

- Ghost also prefers the cats for their quietness (except for Roach who can have a one-way conversation with himself) Ghost tried to snide Laswell once got the smacking of his life (Laswell has his most respect besides Price)

- Great Pyrenees! Soap was added before Gaz but after Ghost. When the fowls were added they were too noisy for either Price or Ghost. So soap was brought in. Sociable and talkative will know all the inside bird drama from the duck, chicken, and Goose Hybrids.

- Soap spends most of his move getting the birds into their fields and feeding them before walking the inner area looking to help anyone who needs it. Usually ends up Chilling with Rudy since Al forbids him in the sheep acres (gets very sad when Gaz has to lead to do his job and not chat with him. Have tried begging Alejandro still refuses. Did cry himself asleep he really wanted to hug the fluffy ewes and lambs)

- Soap sometimes shadows Ghost and slowly his happy calmish demeanor rubs off on Soap and becomes his second bonded friend. After the morning recon, they explore the scents to see if theirs any threats, and then Soap runs off to tell Price and gather the boys

- Soap is a strong guardian dog once the fowl were moved to a field and a building was erect Soap ends up fighting off the Coyotes often at night who try to snatch one of his gossiping birdies. Ghost does Join since that’s where the action is.

- Coyote! Valeria and Soap have the most enemies-to-lover vibes while having the gayest vibes too. They flirt but in like a hateful way. Valeria has a mate somewhere and goes after the fowls mainly when she and her mate are having pups or to piss off Soap.

- Barn Cat! Laswell was gotten before any of the livestock and when both Alejandro and Price were added she instantly put them in their place. Al and Price like having her import and her inner network of barn cats from other barns do a lot of inter-barn cat political activities.

- Roach and Laswell sometimes go off for a few days to the cat conference and come back with knowledge! Once Rat! Makarov invaded and wreak other barns Laswell was very adamant about catching that criminal

- Laswell needed more men and told the Farmer she needed more soldiers that’s where Barn Cat! Farah and Alex were added and they have been waging war

- Makarov and his forces once trapped Alex and got his leg caught onset some debris. He has a permanent limp but still works as a Barn cat.

- Makarov and Konni forces live under the dirt and in tight spots spying.

- the farmers got so annoyed they gathered SpecGru hunting association (hunting dogs ready to hunt rats) they got a lot of Makarov’s forces but rats reproduce quickly so they came back

- lastly added to the man Guardian and the farm were the Goats (mostly use to make Goat cheese) was Alpaca! Rudy. A very pretty hybrid that Al instantly was attracted to. Rudy is a good alarm system but isn’t likely to fight but will.

- Alejandro saw Rudy in another field and thought about jumping the fence to chat but Gaz put him in his place

- the first-time livestock guardian 141! Ran into Wolf! Graves his shadow company pack were stalking a Goat and Rudy alerted everyone.

- a tense stand-off between Ghost, Price, and Soap. They had to use intimidation to scare off the wolves.

- German Shepard! Nik is the Farmer's personal pet and likes to come around to collect the chicken eggs and sometimes tell wild stories to the young guardian dogs (Gaz and Soap haven't decided of his tails are real or not)

- Young Barn Cat! Reader tends to follow Laswell around and sit in the garden and sunbathe, stalk the chicks, and get chased off by Soap.

- Kitten! Reader and Makarov got beef after the giant ass Rat Makarov popped up next to Kitten! Reader. 141 are now on the lookout for the giant rat.

- soon once Cat! Reader grows up they will join the fight against Makarov and Konni group

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

Any request for this AU is welcomed!

inspired a little by @tacticalanklebiter3000 and @frogchiro

[mortal-kombattore-115]

🍁♠️Shadow Company! Julie "Sparks" Cheung ♠️🍁

[shadow0-1]

when we have some time alone

[http-paprika]

Under the Orange Sky / Phillip Graves

cowboy!au / pairing philip graves x wife!reader / wc 1027 / warnings suggestive content, nondescript mentions of nudity, allusions to sex

summery her husband has always been a stranger to her, but one day when he returns from the fields, Phillip's behavior towards her has changed.

notes here's the second poll fanfic, not as long as i thought it would be, but satisfying still. no use of y/n. the story takes place during the turn of the 20th century in western texas.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆��⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Her husband was a stranger, despite the five years she’d spent tied down to him, living in the wild of Texas, far from town, far from her parents; he stayed estranged. Leaving early in the morning before the sun rose over the jagged mountains, returning late in the evenings when she was already in bed, trying to sleep, she seldomly saw Phillip ‘cept for Sundays, on the Lord’s day of rest. Yet still on those days, he was distant from her, withdrawn, solemn, never touching, and only a few stray glances. It was hard for her to remember that charming, proud man who’d swept her off her feet, who flattered her mother and talked business with her father. 

Closing her eyes, laying her head against the back of the tub, she could hear the faint rumbling of hooves, the barking of cattle dogs, and the distinct sound of her husband’s voice. It was early, too early compared to the usual time of his arrival. The sun still hung in the sky, just below the mountains and spilling light into the washroom, remnants of dinner lay on the table waiting for him, lukewarm, and she felt her throat constrict as the sound of his footsteps heavy against the wooden floors of the home. 

The door opens, creaking on its rusty hinges, his blue-eyed gaze falls on her bare figure as Phillip approaches her. Dirty, tall, stern. Removing the black, worn glove off of his hand, it moves down and cups her chin, making her look up at him. Swallowing harshly, she fights the temptation to yank away and look elsewhere, not wanting to invoke the anger she’d seen him possess before. The feeling of his rough and calloused skin against her chin, and the deep gaze of his eyes causes a shiver to run down her spine and a low chuckle to escape his mouth. 

“Do you plan on getting ill, bathing in water this cold?” Phillip asks, removing his other glove before beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt, his overcoat hung up by the door along with his boots. His wife hadn’t even noticed that the water had turned cold around her, or the ache in her chest as she watched her husband slowly undress, folding his clothes and laying them neatly in a pile on the stool next to hers. 

Before she can finally connect the words to ask, he settles into the tub behind her. The warmth of his skin from being out under the Texan sun seeps into her as his hands move to his wife’s shoulder blades. They begin drawing tight circles with his thumbs which causes her to sit up straighter in the bath, stiff with nerves. This wasn’t unfamiliar to her, she knew Phillip’s touch, and with heat pooling to her cheeks, could remember different nights when he’d woken her up and left her sore in the morning. But it was still as strange to her as Phillip was. 

“Relax, doll.” His voice comes out cool, albeit gravely, as Phillip speaks to her. Keeping his hands fixed on her shoulder blades, he brings her back until she’s resting against his broad chest. The rosy blush stays on her cheeks and his nose presses against the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of soap she’d used to cleanse her skin and hair. Staying beneath his grasp, the rising and falling of her chest begins to slow as she realizes his actions are gentle, slow, and considerate of her. Not like before where she had the innate sensation of being a deer that’s being hunted by a coyote. Instead, it reminds her of a book she once read as a young girl, and the pink tint of her cheeks turns into a violent shade of red. 

“Didn’t I say to relax?” Phillip states, once again bringing his hand back to cup her chin so she has to turn her head to look at him. His gaze transfixed on her face, the haze in her eyes and the soft swell of her lips. The way she appeared was so heavenly, that even a holy man would find himself sinning. Pride swelled in Phillip’s chest as he acknowledged the fact that she was his, his wife, his girl. She, on the other hand, felt like the world was spinning around her as she tried to figure out what had happened to her distant husband, Phillip had never done this before. He’d never been so attentive, even when they courted and he had left her feeling dazed and confused. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She finally gets the courage to ask, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. There was almost a sense of adoration as his thumb grazed her lips, a desire that was not primal, but loving. 

“Like how a husband should look at his wife?” Phillip’s voice comes out calmly, yet it still sends shivers down her spine. He chuckles again, relishing in the reaction he receives, enjoying the way her face turns flush and how she looks away from him. “What’s wrong, doll? Would you rather me leave?” 

“No.” Yes, no, she didn’t know what she wanted. The feeling of her stomach tightening as his hands dip down to rest on her hips leaves her unsure and startled. Phillip’s rough lips move to her neck, peppering small, light kisses on her cool skin.

“You’re still cold, doll.” His hands run up her side, the calloused palms rubbing against her plush, soft skin, her breathing hitches as she leans back against him. Letting logic and sensibility fall to the side, her hands fall on top of his, nails grazing against the back of his hands. “Let me help with that.” 

The man behind her was still a stranger, but there was a burning desire in the bottom of her stomach to know him. To find the reason for his sudden change, to touch him, bask in the warmth of his skin, and mindlessly confess everything to him. Phillip Graves was like the sun, lighting her up and painting her skies in shades she’d never known.

[jgvfhl]

The bastard man himself, the final drawing I prepared for this animal shifter/therian au :) Literally had to be a coyote, that animal is labeled as the Trickster in... pretty much every North American indigenous religion that encountered coyotes??? It's perfect! Lore below :]

An interesting specimen, this guy. He very rarely shifts or changes at all, so if he is, something is Very Wrong for someone (probably you). With that projection of control, Graves' ears are rarely as expressive as the average therian's, which can unnerve many people when they notice his ears haven't moved in twenty minutes of conversation. Same with his tail (sadly not pictured...). That said, when he DOES shift, like in Las Almas when hunting down Ghost and Soap, he has heterochromia, just for fun.

Being a small predator in the military is not fun tho, he definitely has some Issues after being a notably scrappy, scrawny predator in the American military-industrial complex. But he starts to own it after founding ShadCo, hence the "yip yip".

Alejandro and Rudy hate this man's guts. They call him perrito blanco behind his back. Or in front of it. They don't fuckin' care. They only like El Fantasma okay? They have one (1) canine friend, and it's not Graves. (that's false, there are definitely caninthropes in LVQ)

Soap & Ghost & Gaz || Nik & Price || Alejandro & Rudy

@worldseer @pampanope @cod-dump @midnight193 @totally-not-fandom @daftdrac

[diejager]

My deep dark desire for a distillery au wherein each force is a competing distillery and you yeet an expert taster reader in there who is in charge of judging each whisky and ranking them. Either they are pulling out all the stops on your tour and treating you like a princess or doing the opposite and threatening you to rank them the highest :')

Mhairi, I am the worse person to ask about whiskey, my parents have delicious smelling ones, fruity and spicy ones, but taste wise? I gag like there’s no tomorrow, especially gin!! I hate gin. The only thing I can stomach so far is sweet, coffee and cream flavoured Baileys Irish Cream. (I know there’s Irish whiskey in it, but it’s only 17% compared to the 40% of any other whiskeys)

Eau De Vie Cw: Alcohol drinking, whiskey taste, tell me if I missed any.

Whisky had always been your favourite, your little secret that you shared with your closest friends alone —your penchent for judging whiskeys and bourbons alone, managing to include rum and brandy in rare occasions. So when you were approached by a known figure in the Whiskey industry that acted as the face for many distilleries across the world, you couldn’t turn down the offer when you were given so much in a simple deal.

You were responsible to drink and rank many popular brands by taste and smell alone, the only person delegated to become the judge. You were given the privilege of taking home a bottle of each brand after this competition, another reason to accept it. So you signed the contract without a second of hesitation, shaking her hand to conclude the deal before she left you squirming with excitement in your office home.

You were flown from your city to a calm part of the Scottish countryside, a chalet overlooking the Scottish highlands and its green beauty. This was the quaint house you would temporarily live in with the rest of the team orchestrating this friendly competition, leaving the connecting house up the cliff side to the different distilleries. From what you’ve heard, Kate Laswell - Kate you called her after a few meetings that had fully bloomed into a friendship of alcohol connoissoir - the participating teams were the British company 141 - who in coalition to Chimera and the ULF - would represent their alliance, the American Shadows, the multi-national KorTac and the Russian brewery Konni. They were all popular brands distilling whiskey and brandy in their own countries, creating a plethora of tastes and sensations that would explode on your tongue after a few sips.

You were ecstatic, your mouth salivating at the simple thought of tasting the finest whiskeys from around the world, but you had a few days to rest and tour the side of Scotland you were shipped to. What you expected to be calm and mild-mannered men and women from their side of the world to meet and eat with refined etiquette, was shattered the second you peered through the door after walking down the connecting path from your chalet to their house.

They were loud, rambunctious in the very sense of it, loud and jovial, hurling insults and hissing out jeers at one another. It was a dogfight between brewers, like cats and dogs. You felt like a stranger, gawking at the group hurling words at one another until it all stopped, the open living room falling in silence when they heard you drop your bag on the polished wood. You’ve never seen humans move so fast until the second after the silence, scrambling to clean the room up and wooing you with their compliments and sweet pleasantries to appease you.

They gave you a tour of the house, the rich wine cellar that was open to you whenever you wanted a drink, the wooden patio that had it’s own lounge and bar, and the various rooms in the mansion-like chalet. They all vied for your attention, ripping one another’s throat to have a second of your attention, kissing up to you with sweet compliments and even sweeter praises.

The Brits - well, three English and one Scott - were a good mix of mature and zealousness, low voices and near-overwhelming figures with their broad shoulders and stocky mass. They came with other people to represent their company: Farah and her devoted Alex from ULF, and the crude Nikolai and Krueger from Chimera.

The Shadows were American, the most American you’ve ever seen, energetic and determined to win you over, and the CEO, a man with a southern accent and a seductive smirk, swiping you off your feet with pet names that made you fluster.

KorTac had as many accents as they had people of different countries, both men and women skilled in multiple languages and conversing so fluently that you started to question if you were on the same planet.

Konni was rough on the edges, their leading figure as scheming as he was gentlemanly, his thin lips letting out the most vicious praises to have you squirming under his dark gaze and unmoving determination for the win.

Days later, you met them at the compound farther down the road, away from the beauty of the coast and cliff, a long table exposing their finest to you. Poured in a cups, one with ice and another without, they were left for you to decide which would win the prize for both straight and on the rocks. Today was the day you would nominate one as the best, standing higher than everyone else without bias despite the times they rendered you a flustered mess and made you unendingly grateful for their help.

Your pallet exploded with flavour every time you sipped on a different brand, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the deliciousness of every bottle. 141 brought three bottles of their aged whiskey: a smoky Scotch Whisky made in the same Highlands you were tasting it, the bitter spiciness of rye whiskey from the American branch of the ULF - credits to Alex for introducing it - and the woody and fruity aroma of Chimera’s whiskey. Shadows had brought - unsurprisingly - their most popular types of whiskey to the table: Bourbon made in their own distillery in Kentucky, a sweet and mellow sub-type of their first one and the smooth flavour of their wheat whiskey. KorTac had a large variety to it’s collection: a floral tasting whiskey that outmatched Hibiki Harmony, a nutty sensation of a bottle made in Ireland and the rich and peaty on of a danish-made bottle. And finally, three Russian bottles from the biggest distillery in Russia: a sweet and smoky bottle, a second one with rich malt and honey, and a third focusing on aroma with it’s spicy odour and fruity taste.

They were all so delicious, if you had these bottles when you working at the bar, mixing concoctions for paying clients, you would’ve been overjoyed, but those days were long gone, your priority standing elsewhere than fulfilling your dream. Truthfully, you didn’t know who to give the medal, the flavours so vast and unique. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if you took a second or third sip just to be sure.

Part 2

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake