#because all he wanted is to not be killed by people he knew. or best friend of the only friend he has ever had /утрир золотце еще был

[pianocat939]

part 2 plz

Yandere Player 230 (Thanos) Headcanons Part 2

(IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED EP.6 YET NO LOOKY)

Tw: No murder (yet), brief mentions of violence and potential murder, unconsensual touching (NOT NSFW), threats

I know him being killed isn't a big surprise- BUT IM STILL MAD. I want bro to come back. I need him. Heck at this point I'm just gonna watch all the dramas T.O.P has been in because man's just too fine.

Part 1

Beginning where I left off, during the Merry-Go-Round Mingle game, you best bet he won't let you be separated from him. He'll hold your extremely tight if you try to get away. He'll turn his head, and give you a very maniacal closed-lip smile.

"Don't run mousey. I'm not letting you get killed. I wanna be able to play one more game with you."

If it's just 2 players? He won't let the others kick you out. He'll probably just kick someone and run off while holding you in his hand. Once you're in the room, he'll probably pin you to wall give you big smooch somewhere on your face. Literally could be anywhere.

If you resist, he'll just hug you tight and cover you in even more kisses. He's just waiting for you to submit.

If you just stand there and not really do much about it, he'll hug you tight.

"Good. I knew you were a good mousey. Those bastards can't compare."

During the game, if someone tries to separate you or prevent you guys from winning, he won't hesitate to hit the violence button. You can honestly just stand there and watch him go nuts.

For the voting after the game, if you choose to continue the game, he'll be much more pacified. Just doing his usual clinging and teasing. He likes holding hands with you and swinging your arms in-sync as you wait for the voting to finish.

If you choose to not continue the game, he'll stare into your soul. He couldn't believe you. Weren't you supposed to be his good little mousey? You won't expect much during the voting, but during meal time he'll go nuts. He'll pull you aside and keep you pinned against the wall. He won't let you ignore him.

He'll harshly whisper to you that if you pull something against him he would personally kill any of the people who want to continue. All to prevent you from leaving him.

"Don't pull that shit, 'kay? All those fuckers are gonna die anyway. Just you and me baby. Just you and me."

As we know, he dies during the teams fight. But I want to do a possible part 3 where he does in fact live. Basically a theory on what he would do if he survived.

So until I upload a part 3, that'll be that. Sorry this part was shorter, but I need to think a bit more for part 3 considering I'll be twisting away from the drama's story.

—————————————————————————

Chat I would absolutely allow him to drag me into a room during the Mingle game. Like sir of course I will follow. Bro's voice is simply perfect like could you please read a book to me and I will be knocked out within minutes.

- Celina

[alilobsessive]

For the Reader that the Batfam doesn’t know about till she’s twenty and her mom dies of could we get the Batfam reacting to her being absolutely invested and a part of her step family. Like her mom was married to some guy who reader thinks of as her father. She even has older step siblings that just adore her. It’s like so wholesome and the Batfam just wants to vomit from anxiety because what do you mean you don’t feel like a part of our family and feel more related to your step family?!

Even better if the step family is the opposite of the Batfam in every way. Emotionally coherent, great communication, middle class, and oh yeah secretly a villain family that likes to go after big corporations and embezzle their funds. Gotta pay the mortgage on that nice house in the suburbs somehow 😄🤫 but reader and her mom never knew the step dad and his children were villains. They just thought they owned a small family business that required a whole lot of travel.

Honey, baby girl, I love the way you think! This probably isn’t what you had in mind but I did my best.

You always knew that your Father wasn’t your biological father. Although your mother had married him when you were still extremely young, you still had some vague memories of a time before him. But that never changed how you viewed him and your older siblings. Their family, no matter what, you’re Father even went so far as to legally adopt you not long after their marriage.

Finding out your biological father was Bruce fucking Wayne of all people was a shock to everyone, even him. You were born before Bruce had the reputation of a family man, someone who loved helping people. Back then he was known solely as a playboy, not ready or willing to settle down and enjoying his youth as much as he could. Your mother met him at a gala having been invited by her brother in law, a decently wealthy man. Wealthy enough to be invited to these gala’s from time to time. There she met Bruce, they did the deed so to speak, and the rest is history. Of course your mother already knew who exactly your biological father is, she wasn’t the type to go sleeping around frequently. Against her better judgment and the judgment of the rest of her family, she decided to keep you. Lying that she didn’t know who the father was, not expecting him to be a good parent or wanting the stigma of being a wealthy man’s bastard child to follow you around.

Because of this, outside of your Aunt and the aforementioned brother in law, your uncle, the family disowned her. It was hard being a single mother, although her job did pay well it paid well for a single person, not a single person and infant. She relied on your Aunt and Uncle far more than she would like to. It was also through your Aunt and Uncle that she met your Father. An accountant who was temporarily contracted by your Uncle’s Company. He’s older than your mother by a good few years and has three kids of his own that he was taking care of by himself after his wife was killed in a villain attack.

The two had hit it off rather well, and 3 years later they were married. The two of them were the happiest couple you have ever met, even when they were struggling to take care of the four of you, they were happy. So the fact that your Father didn’t even know this was concerning, if she could keep this a secret up until her death what else was she hiding? What information that was quietly eating her alive, did she not even bother to put in her will like this? She wanted you to know, even after his reputation changed things were comfortable and she didn’t want to ruin it with Bruce's presence.

Just like her you thought Bruce and his family should know. It felt wrong to keep this a secret and you weren’t going to bottle it up. Of course you’re Father and siblings had mixed feelings about it, they were understandably worried. This is the richest man in Gotham, who knows what he’s actually like behind closed doors. But it felt wrong to keep this from him, even if you were never going to meet again, he deserved to know. What you definitely didn’t expect was everything that would come after telling them and doing that DNA test, and then another DNA test and then a third just to be safe, Jesus Christ these people are paranoid. Which understandable who knows how many people come up to him with those exact same claims on a daily basis. A lot seeing as when you tried to get in contact with him, you discovered a literal fucking procedure and form to fill out on the Wayne enterprises website for this very scenario. Which also leads to the question how many people signed the forms as a joke.

All and all when the paperwork and blood test finally got through a fucking full month later, you randomly got an email saying you had a meeting scheduled with Bruce at 10am in a week. Once again informing your family made them freak the fuck out. Which makes sense seeing as you’re Father is now an accountant working for the Lex corp branch in Gotham. Competing companies and all that. Your other siblings having gone into similar fields in different companies, your eldest brother having even moved to BlüdHaven and become an Accountant for one of their large corporations. You could never really wrap your own head around numbers. Going to Gotham university for Acting yourself. Completely different from what the rest of your family, including your Mother did for a living. After your meeting with Bruce, which basically boiled down to “why did you inform me” “what do you want” “bla bla bla bla interrogation interrogation” instead of things blowing over and collectively forgetting about it, like you thought. Things got even weirder.

“Oz I swear to fucking god” you say staring at Oswald you’re second brother and the one closest to your age. “What!” He said defensively, “I didn’t do anything!” “I know you’re the one who stole Bethany” “You’re still on about that fucking Minecraft horse! It’s been two years!” “Bethany, my beloved, the horse I rightfully stole from Paisley!” “literally just admitted the horse wasn’t originally yours!- why are we having this conversation again!” “Because-“ “excuse me!” You and your brother's conversation was interrupted by a complete stranger. To be fair the two of you were talking very loudly in a very public, very busy dinner. The man standing in front of you looked to be around your sister's age. Tall and a little muscular with a 9 year old kid hiding behind him, glaring at you like you’re a potential threat. “I’m so sorry to disturb your……?” “Important business transaction” you say with gravity sitting in your Luray Caverns gift shop hoodie, sweatpants and slippers. “Minecraft server discussion” Oz clarifies “IMPORTANT. BUSINESS. TRANSACTION!” “Riiiight” the strange man said awkwardly, the child still glaring.

He clears his throat glancing away before glancing back. “Well as you can see all the other tables are full, I was wondering if it was alright for us to sit with you?” He asks with a warm smile, looking more at you than Oswald. You and Oswald look at each other “Huddle!” You yelp, and then you both lean over the table and turn your backs to them whispering to each other. “People do that??” You ask “I’ve only heard about it in like old movies??” Oz responds, “ya this is weird” “umm” the tall man interrupts, “we can hear you?” The both of you turn around at the exact same time and say “Okay and?” Then go back to your huddle. “I don’t trust them, look at the kid. I bet he’s plotting are murder.” “I don’t know, maybe his face is just stuck like that?” “It is” the tall man once again interrupts. “See?” “You have far too much faith in people” Oz says, shaking his head, shaming you. “Someone has too, if I don't, who's going to stop you from kicking an innocent person who was just trying to ask for directions in the nuts?” He flushes and mumbles “I thought we agreed to not talk about that”.

“I made no such agreement” you glance back at them still standing there awkwardly. Now that you think about it they look familiar. “Hay do I know you?” You ask them, which makes the tall one jump a little, the kid just stands there like a Gargoyle. “Umm no, but you’ve probably seen me on YouTube or the news or something.” You quickly turn back to your brother “oh god it’s a influencer” “fuck” “I’m not a-“ for the first time since they approached you the child speaks “except your fate as an influencer Grayson” which just makes Grayson(?) sigh, looking at the ground defeated. The two of you continue to debate for another few minutes before you both turn back to them, both of you putting a single hand on the table. “Okay!” You say “you may sit with us” Oz finishes. At some point in this conversation a waitress had arrived and stood there watching you four. Looking a mix of tired and confused. “So can I get your guys order?” “Orange juice, Greek Omelette with white bread, please” you tell her in quick succession. “Bro, what? I haven’t seen you look at the menu once since you invited me here to talk about Minecraft’s horses?” “There’s this thing called looking up the menu before you arrive?” “You’re insane, you’re literally insane” Oz says looking at you like you grew three heads.

“No, I'm being practical! I’m not going to sit here for 3 hours debating what I want, when I can get it as soon as possible once I get here!” You two instantly begin arguing again. Grayson and Gargoyle child glance at each other as the waitress writes down the order and mumbles “not this shit again” before walking away. The duo then look back at you two still yelling at each other. Grayson awkwardly slides next to you, Gargoyle child sitting next to Oswald. “Your lucks run out Rabbit boy!” “Stop that!” “No! You Rabbit brained water moccasin!” “We should have never gotten you Epic Mickey!” “Epic Mickey and Epic Mickey 2: Power of 2 were masterpieces of storytelling and Wii physics! Not getting them for me would have been child abuse!” “No it fucking wouldn’t!” “Child abuse!” “Is that true Grayson?” The Gargoyle child asked Grayson. “What?” said man replied, looking confused.

“Is it child abuse?” Gargoyle child had what could only be described as grinch’s smile as he said this. “What no-“ “YES” you yell, instantly cutting him off, slamming your hands on the table making the silverware jump, as well as your two guests. “Yes” you repeat this time softer and with less force, slightly embarrassing as your brother just rolled his eyes. “Denying a small innocent child such a joy is clearly-“ you begin only for your eyes to go wide “oh my god you're too young to know what a wii is” the boy nods. “Uuug I feel oooold!” You groan, sinking down the plastic of the booth, then you shoot up again “hold up- isn’t there a reboot on the switch??” You quickly pull out your phone and start typing away.

As you do the waitress returns and hands you and Oz your food. “Hold on-“ Grayson says “He didn’t order anything?” The waitress sighs, “the whole family are regulars” she explains, “whenever they show up this one” she points to you “oh my god it’s already out!” You quickly look up from your phone “thank you!” And then back towards it. “Already knows exactly what they want and this one” she points to Oz who gives a soft “thanks” “will sit here for 40 or so minutes trying to figure out what he wants, only to order the exact same thing.” “Aa” “ya, so” she pulls out her pen and paper. “Are you two going to order anything” “oh right um-“ Grayson fumbles with the menu and Gargoyle child calmly looks at him. The two quickly order their food and turn back to you too.

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves yet.” Grayson says, you look up from your phone and at him. “Oh ya” putting it away you hold out your hand and tell him your name “I’m Richard” he says with a bright smile, shaking your hand. You resist the urge to make a joke “but most people just call me Dick!” Now you really resist the urge to make a joke. “Damian” Gargoyle child says glaring eyes looking into your soul. You’re brother looks back and forth between the two “Oswald” he gumpaly introduces then takes a bite of his food. The four of you sit and chat together but quickly Oswald starts acting strange. By the time breakfast is over and you say your goodbyes to the group.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” “I think” Oswald begins, looking around suspiciously. “That those two were..” he leans closer and whispers, “Wayne’s kids” “What!” You say in surprise. “That’s crazy! Why would someone like them be at a dinner?” “You” everything about him, from voice to posture to expression was dead serious. “Bitch what” “think about it! You just pop up out of nowhere, prove your well, ya know” he scans the crowd of people walking along the Gotham sidewalk like anyone could be listening in. “Then nothing happens?” He continues, “okay, okay, okay i’m hearing you out you’re making sense, proof?” “fucking Google Dick Grayson” rolling your eyes, you whip out your phone and do just that. Only for your eyes to go wide, “oh shit” “ya” “they weren’t even trying to hide it” “ya!” “oh my god I called Dick Grayson an influencer!” “That cannot be what you just took away from that!” Oswald says clearly distressed.

Dick closes the car door and quietly buckles in as Damian sits in the seat next to him, “soo?” He asks starting up the car. “You’re on my side now?” Damian scoffs, “of course not! Why would I want someone like them in the family?” Dick rolls his eyes. “Come on, you like them!” “No I don’t!” “You joined in with their jokes!” “So?” Dick just gives an affectionate sigh as he starts driving away.

“You wanna get Epic Mickey?”

“….”

“….”

“Yes”

Sitting in a cafe and staring at your laptop, work for one of your colleague classes right in front of you. Dispute coming from a family that consists primarily of accountants and other jobs that mean you're good with numbers, you were not so good at it. Which is why you’re here, in a cafe, with your work barely done or understandable. Paisley having wandered off to the bathroom, not helping you, like she said she would! Sure you didn’t take Acting because you thought you would never need to do most math’s again, but you expect it to be a part of it. But noooo, you still needed a math credit, you wanted to just curl up into a tiny ball and cry. Maybe die, dying sounds good right about now. No! No! Bad, what did the therapist say again? Jokes like this are bad for your mental health, no matter how desperately you wanted to at times like this.

As you stare at the screen trying to magically make the problems un problem themselves a tall and rather intimidating man shows up. “Are you alright?” He asks concerned, “you’re staring very… intently at that computer” you groan “Math” “aaa” he nods in understanding, then slides into your sister’s chair. Turning it around and resting his arms on the back. You raise an eyebrow and straighten up but say nothing, kidnappings in broad daylight aren’t new to Gotham, but you would rather give him the benefit of the doubt. You don’t want to live a life of constant fear.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks, tilting his head, like a dog. But before you could respond your sister comes out of the bathroom, she very aggressively puts her hand on the table. The buff man looks up at your sister “Hi Paisley” you great, you’re sister although shorter than the man is almost as buff. She glares down at him “you’re in my seat” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey I mean no-“ “what do you want with my sibling?” She begins immediately interrogating them. The handful of people inside the cafe turn to look at the commotion. “Paisley calm down, we were just talking! Barely at that!” “Ya, miss! All I’m doing is trying to have a conversation!” The buff man says defensively “Bullshit!” Paisley interrupts “answer my question! What. do. you. want. with. them” “I just wanted to talk! Geez!” He throws up his hands and then stands up, leaving the Cafe as a whole.

Your sister's chest puffs with pride as you stare at her dumbfounded. “The fuck was that???” She calmly turns the chair back around and sits down, most of the other people have gone back to minding their own business. Key word:most “what? He was bothering you” “no he wasn’t???” She looks at you in disbelief, “do you seriously not know who that was??” Now it’s your turn to look at her confused. “No?? Should I?” She puts her hands in her face “Jesus Christ” then looks back at you. “That was one of his kids!” “Who?- oh” “ya! I thought you would be more aware after last time!” You shrug, “why should I? Not that big a deal” “not that-what?!?” Paisley looks like she wants to strangle you from across the table. “Ya, I mean I get it” “you??-“ “Listen, if you suddenly discover you had another sibling that no one knew about, wouldn't you be curious too?” She sighs at your question, “when did are lives become a soup opera?” Chuckleing lightly you respond “I know right?” Before going back to serious mode. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I admittedly wasn’t expecting this, but now that it’s happening, I’m not that surprised. At least they have the decency of meeting at a public place and not like a shady alleyway or something.” The stress is clear on her… we’ll everything. Even starting to massage her head like a migraine is coming on. “God, this entire situation is so fucked” she says slumping down putting her head on the table.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “Sooo Bethany?” She groans annoyed as you’ve been bothering her about this all week. “Fucking fine! I’ll do it!” “Yessss” you do a little fist bump, one step closer to your plan.

Jason pulls out his phone, agitated at having been interrupted in such a manner. His back is pressed against the wall of the ally he’s in, tapping his foot as he waits for Dick to pick up. “Hay Jay!” The chiper voice eventually picks up, “that was fast!” “I didn’t even get 5 minutes to speak to them” Jason hears a low whistle coming from Dicks end. “What happened?” “Well you were right, they definitely figured out what was happening and went on the defensive. Their step sister chased me off almost immediately.” “You?” He said in disbelief “she chased you, Jason Todd, Mr. Murder Kill, off??” “I wasn’t going to pick a fight with a civilian in public!” He could hear Dick laughing on the other end.

Jason’s grip on the phone tightens as he hears this, “So!” Dick says once he stops. “What do you think?” “I don’t know! I didn’t have enough time to form an opinion!” “An opinion if formed-“ “within the first 10 seconds of meeting someone” Jason interrupts, “there okay I guess?” He says, sounding almost confused. “I couldn’t get a good read on them. I still haven’t the faintest clue what they want” “To be a part of the family?” Dick responds, this not being the first or last time he said this since the family learned about you. “Ya no, definitely not that” Jason says shaking his head, “I’ll continue my part of the investigation” “Alright Jay! Have a good day!” Jason hangs up, rolling his eyes and putting away his phone.

Standing by a railing you watch the skateboarders around the park. Why you agreed to meet him here of all places you don’t know, he doesn’t even like skateboarding! You don’t either but that’s not really the point. The point is you’re meeting him here, to make a very important deal. A familiar figure walks next to you and places his arms against the railing. “I know what you’re planning” he says, you don’t even glance at your eldest brother. Cody is the smartest of your siblings, nothing gets past him, absolutely nothing.

It’s what makes him such great competition.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” you say in a flat tone, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “You’re trying to restart the Bethany war, going to every member of the surver one by one and making deals so they all turn on each other. But the question is why?” You chuckle at that. “Why? you know why, the server is getting dull, everyone is playing on it less and less. We need another big event, another game, another Bethany war.” There’s almost a cruel glee in your tone, a joy at the life this chose will bring back to the server like it had all that time ago. Only for your dramatic performance to be rudely interrupted by a mildly concerned “umm excuse me?”.

You both turn around and see a skateboarder, he looks to be roughly your age wearing Red Robin(pronounced like the jungle) merch. “What is happening here?” He asks looking back and forth at the two of you like he just watched two villains openly discussing their plans for world domination. Which if you two were, he's doing a very bad job at keeping his life. “Minecraft server stuff” you and Cody say at the same time, Red Robin Kid(because he is a kid until further notice) makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth and then nods like that all makes sense now. Knowing how the average Minecraft server operates it definitely does.

Red Robin kid then looks around “sooo, why not discuss this over like a call, or DMs?” “Not dramatic enough” you shrug, “also not safe enough when anyone else involved can easily overhear or find the messages.” Cody continues, leading you to nod in agreement. “So, you’re dramatically talking about a Minecraft war in a skate park, for fun?” You two look at each other and then back at Red Robin kid. “Ya” “basically” “why a skate park?” You turn to look at Cody, he just shrugs. You turn back to the kid, “cause” he just looks at the two of you for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to speak some more only for one of his friends to call his name, he looks at them then back at you. Like he’s debating something, then he goes to his friends. “I want in on it” Cody says continuing we’re the conversation left of “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

“By the way you really need to memorize the Wayne’s”

“He’s a Wayne???”

“You what?” Bruce said in a calm tone, “I ran into them by complete accident when I was at the skate park this morning.” Tim says in his full Red Robin gear, working on the batcomputer. “Sure it was by accident” Jason said sarcastically, “no really! I didn’t even know they’d be there” “Just being dramatic?” Bruce asks. “There a Acting student Bruce” Tim replied looking towards his adoptive father, “there you’re child Bruce” Dick says walking over and adjusting his suit. “Drama is clearly in your blood.” all he does is sigh and shake his head. “Care to explain what you all were even doing behind my back?” Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien just stood there quietly. As he said that Duke and Cas walk into the batcave. Duke in his pajamas and eating a bag of chips and Cas fully in gear.

Duke looks around the room and then quietly tries to leave “you’re not going anywhere” Bruce says before he can even take a step back. “We were just investigating them, Father” Damien finally chimes in, “as you are too, it’s extremely suspicious that they would appear out of nowhere like that” “takes one to know one” Tim mumbles, only to be sent a glare by the child. “Their story checks out” Bruce begins, “all of us have combed it over several times” “ya but what’s there motive for even telling you” Jason chimes in. “Because, it’s the right thing to do, is a flimsy excuse” “ hold on” Duke says, “are we talking about the new kid?” Duke takes a minute searching his memory for your name before saying it.

Bruce nods, “yes, they’ve been doing their own private investigations.” “So stalking?” “Yes” “Hay!” Dick interrupts, “Tim stalks, we investigate” “I’m literally the only one here that didn’t meet them intentionally!” Tim looks at them offended. “Please tell me you didn’t corner them in an alley or something” Duke asks looking distressed. “Of course not!” “Oh thank god” “were you not investigating them?” Jason asks, Duke just shrugs “Hold on- are you not looking into them?” “Outside of a basic social media check? No, not really, I don’t really care” “Im definitely stalking them.” Cas signs from next to him. “I have followed them home on several occasions.” They all turn to look at Cas, “thoughts?” Dick asks and Cas just shrugs “there alright” “YA!” He points at her, “Cas is on my side! So is Duke!” “I’m neutral actually” Bruce just sighs. Completely uncertain of we’re this is going to go.

In an undisclosed location four people sat around a round table, several different stacks of paper put on top of it. As well as computers, drinks and snacks, “things aren’t going to plan” the oldest of the group, a man in his mid 60’s, said as he looked over the documentation. “When do things ever?” The youngest of the group said, flipping a knife in his hands. “Well none of our businesses are being affected” said the second eldest of the group, “that’s not what we’re talking about and you know that!” The final member of the group almost yells, slamming her hands on the table. “You even intentionally led one of them right to them!” He just shrugs at the accusation, “I wanted to see what would happen, honestly Lucky over here” he nods to the man messing with a knife who then flips him off “got a more in-depth experience” he does sparkly hands “than the rest of us” the old man sighs. “Please don’t fight about this right now, we have more important matters to discuss!” “How is this not important!” “It is! But that’s family talk! This is villain talk time!” Cody rolls his eyes, “the potential of them crossing over is getting closer and closer.” The trio’s father sighs at that.

“I don’t like we’re this is going” “none of us do!” Paisley yells, “they just had to be a decent human being!” “Well that was the goal with raising you four” there Father buts in. Oswald nods “and you did a good job” Paisley just stares at him for a few seconds absolutely baffled. “YOU LITERALLY KILLED TWO PEOPLE LAST WEEK!” “HAY-“ Oswald interrupts “they we’re cops” “please don’t kill more people” There Father says pained. “We don’t want to be labeled supervillain we-“ “can’t risk being caught by a Batman of all people” they all say in sink. “Tell Cody that!” Paisley says pointing at the lounging man, “he’s trying to become Nightwings Riddler! But is failing miserably because he’s bad at making riddles!” “I should just make puzzles” he mumbles to himself, “I’m good at making puzzles, The Puzzler” “Puzzle me this Nightwing!” She says, mocking The Riddler’s voice. “Maybe you would be a better villain if you got Nightwing’s dick out your mouth!” Oswald exclaims annoyed, which Cody doesn’t even dignify with a reply. “Can we please get back on topic?” There Father practically begs, “I don’t know Cody’s one sided attraction to Nightwing seems pretty important” Paisley mumbles. “You can never be like Cat Woman” Oswald stage whispers, Cody actually looks kinda offended at that. There Father stares almost defeated at his squabbling children. He wants nothing more than to keep them safe, and can only feel like he’s falling miserably.

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 1)

Masterlist No choice TW: Neglect, mentions of blood, mental illness

10 days later...

"So who is she?", Duke asks.

"She's a criminal now." Tim replies, he gets up just to drink a beer.

"No she isn't" Jason retorts.

"Then what is she?" Duke asks.

"She's a child, or should I say was a child", Jason interjects.

"She's just being temperamental and probably just throwing a tantrum." Damian jibes.

"She killed all yakuza leaders with a katana," Jason retorts.

"She's definitely not Bruce's child, because there's no way that Bruce could do that." Duke jokes.

"She is. I took a paternity test." Bruce replies.

"She's getting smarter and better. She was supposed to be in the fortress where we keep the people who are too mentally insane to go to Arkham." Cassandra adds.

"I checked the security cameras of all the places she's been in and she has the ability to manipulate a person in to doing her malicious acts. Must be why she's able to escape every time by using someone else for her bidding. " Tim reveals.

Asylum, 10/11/2017,

"Hello, my name is chief Lawson, FBI. I'm here to ask you where you hid the bodies."

"Rotting apples with wasps feasting. Brown bananas with flies retreating. A fox in the night is ripping black bin bags open. Cats are eating a chicken casket after Sunday dinner. A white owl is gobbling a slaughtered mouse, happy, sitting on the evening fence. The brown rat is running for the bushes after stealing bread. A giant cow jawbone is found in the dirty ground. The tired young man died on the motorway bridge and was found. Zombied humans are eating out of plastic bins. Death is everywhere! Take a look inside – don’t be ignorant about what you find." She sings but keeps her back faced to the FBI.

"You're not really helping here lady." Lawson said.

"It's in the song, but if you don't listen then I can't help you." Eurus said.

She starts to stand up and go towards the glass.

"Step forward and touch the glass officer." Eurus feints.

"No, you give me answers lady."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? This is bullet-proof glass sweetheart." Eurus replies, "I'll touch it if you want."

The officer steps forward and touches the glass on for her to grab his neck and choke him to death.

End of recording...

"Lawson was supposed to be one of the best FBI detectives." Bruce says.

"He was. She's evolving and the longer we let her evolve, the more people will die." Stephanie adds.

"Why would she do this?" Bruce wonders

10 years ago...

Love can come from many forms and languages. It follows the same rules with hate, negligence, toxicity, and jealousy. It may not be shown all in one go, so it will gradually grow until it could eat you alive whole. Let's list what each has demonstrated.

Unintentional negligence: Bruce proves as a simple embodiment of this action. He found you to be insignificant and mediocre. When really your true colours were just about to shine.

Negligence based on superiority: Dick has quite the experience in that area. He always thought that people would look up to him and he would be the role model of the family. He never meant for his negligence to go as far.

Love relying on sufferings: Jason truly knew how broken you were and wanted to fix it. It took him too long to realise that you may be able to fix and broken mirror, but it would never be as it was.

Hate relying on significance: Tim is the obvious answer since he never truly cared for you. Until now. He hated the fact on how you were so 'naive' and 'helpless', that you don't deserve to live like them.

Hate and jealousy based on blood: Since you were the child of a common whore, Damian thinks of you as a whore and never a Wayne. He has a perfect assassin of a mother and a rich vigilante for a father to add up. You on the other hand, have nothing, and are nothing to him.

Toxic and fake interest: All the girls, Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie has a bond with you. They pretend to be interested and all ears when they really plan to hurt you and shut you up. They'd do anything just for you to back off. It was never true with them.

Love of a sibling and of keen interest: Duke has always wanted a sister who was normal. So far he assumes that you're the closest thing to normal that wasn't as fake as Cassandra, talkative as Steph, or as busy as Barbara. He understands your pain and wants to be the sibling you never had.

Present...

Each had their own description of their 'bond' with you. But things have changed, they changed. Why wouldn't you wanna go home for them?

Don't you see how much they treasure you now?

Come home little robin.

A/N: I kinda like this chapter because I'm basing it off from the BBC Sherlock Holmes Series and I hope you'd like it!

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

[tastefuleternallove]

hey! i hope you’re having a good new year! i didn’t have the best holiday season, so i was just wondering if you could do joe quinn x reader on christmas or new years? or if possible reader with seasonal depression?

Loved

Joe Quinn x Reader

Summary: your boyfriend has immense amount of love for you

Warnings: fluff / angst, mentions of depression, does not say what holiday is being celebrated or the gender of reader.

Note: i’m so sorry to you and to anyone who had a rough holiday season, i did aswell and i would’ve killed for someone to say these things to me over the past few weeks. Hope the rest of everyone’s year is filled with love ❤️

NONE OF THIS IS PROOF READ IM LAZY

The holiday season was always hard for you, every year you find yourself sitting in your bed scrolling on your phone looking at everyone’s holiday pictures. Reminding you that your behind everyone in life, but also too ahead in the same way. However this year was different, you had joe. He’s the light of your life and the best thing that’s ever happend to you.

But over the holiday season you couldn’t scratch the feeling that you’ve been ruining it for him. The holidays were his favourite time of year and you haven’t exactly had time to share with him how you feel about this time of year. It wasn’t his fault, you just care for him so much. Going to every event, every dinner, every party with a smile plastered on your face hoping to not ruin this moment for your boyfirend

You felt like you were hiding it nicely, never stopping a smile, starting conversations with people, and playing the perfect part. But your boyfriend could see straight through your facade, every time you would slowly dissociate yourself when people would start talking about certain things. his heart ached at the sight of this but he wasint exactly sure how to have this conversation, he didint want you to fully shut him out but he also wanted you to know he cared for you and wanted to help you.

it was new year’s eve and you were getting ready to go to one of joe’s friends party. ask you looked at yourself in the mirror you feslt the exhaustion that crept up onto you from the season, feeling drained and in need of laying down. But on queue Joseph walked into the room, you straightened your posture out and went back to clasping your necklace. Joe knew right when he walked in you weren’t okay, and today was the day he would say something.

“Sweetheart, can you come sit on the bed with me” he said softly, you took note of how he hadn’t started getting ready. “i need you to know that i care about you and that you are in such a safe space when your with me right?” he said with almost a worried look. “yeah of course babe”. you said with a smile, but he couldint shake the feeling thag more was going on. “How about me and you just spend new years together, we can relax, do anything you want and just spend time with eachother, no one else no distractions”. “what! no” you said with almost a fear in your eyes. joseph gave a confused look trying to see i side your mind.

this is something your boyfriend wanted something important to him, but now that you aren’t going to his friends party their all gonna think that it’s your fault because if it wasint for you joseph wouldint come. Your chin quivered quick as you shit your head down releasing everything in a huge eruption. tears streaming down your face as you let every emotion from the past couple of weeks consume you. Your boyfriends heart shattered at the sight of this, because he didint know what was happening or how to get you to tell him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, trying to make you feel grounded so you knew he wasint going anywhere

He rubbed your back in small patterns and tried to steady your breathing. “look at me” you glanced up at his freshly shaven smooth face. “It’s not your fault, you can’t control how you feel during this time of year and it’s selfish of me that i didn’t say anything sooner about how you’ve been feeling. That’s why i suggested about tonight, spending the new year with my amazing partner, i couldn’t ask for a more amazing person that i get to share my life with, your always there every step of the way and you must know that you are what leads me to every step of my life. Everything is for you and i love you with everything in me”.

You looked at him in awe, he cared, he listened , your worries of showing your true emotions melted away as you truly realized how important and loved this man made you feel. He placed his tender hands on your cheek and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead and continued to keep rocking you back and forth, easing you out from your stress.

[drewstarkeysring]

She did what?- Drew Starkey part 2

˚⋆ ୧ ‎ ࣪ Warnings Cheating , Odessa , swearing

Summary Hollywood is so overrated, but when Larissa finds out what our beloved Drew is up to, shit hits the fan 💋

"I miss you how you made me feel last night"

"When can you leave her house already, I need you"

You're Gut feeling all your friends talked about having when they have gotten cheated on. You said to yourself you would never feel that. Drew was good to you, no signs, no evidence. Until now, you can't breathe. heartbroken is the feeling you felt.

It's been an hour, and he still sleeping.

I looked through all of the messages. He has been gone for two months, which means for those two months. He has been lying and cheating with her. The girl you hate, you knew she always talked shit to her friends when you would be with Drew at a bar. You brushed it off because you never wanted to ruin the moment.

"What are you doing on my phone," Drew says, staring at me. He is caught, and he knows it. He has been awake for the past 5 minutes.

Disbelief is all you feel, the man you loved for 2 years who you thought couldn't hurt you in a way that all your friends told you or the internet. Deeply in love with this man. The hurt you felt, and he was about to hear it.

"Are you kidding me, the shit I found on your fucking phone, you cheated on me with this bitch, be so for real right now Drew". You say

He looks like he has seen a ghost, a ghost that is about to get put through the ringer. "I don't know what to say... I'm sorry baby". He says

"Dont call me that, we done Drew, Done. I have nothing to say to you". you express

"I am gonna leave save us both the trouble". Drew says

I take his phone and throw it against the wall. It shatters. Thank God fuck that hoe. Crash out is all you think but let this motherfucker think you're calm and collected.

A few days later

Brian, your best friend, always was in a show with Odessa. You needed a friend that made you feel at home. Both you and Brian made it up together. You met him at an award ceremony and knew he would be family. He was there with you for everything: first Big Movie, First Vogue Magazine Cover, Victoria's Secret shot, and plenty of other amazing accomplishments. He gets you and always supports you through everything. A big brother that you always wanted.

"I really can't believe him, two months away from you, and you would think he was thinking of you, but no, just thinking with his Dick," Brian says, he takes a sip of his wine.

You roll your eyes. "I wanna kill her and him. Everything I gave to that man and sacrificed for him, cheating, was never on my radar for him. Especially with her, like dude, the bitch is all over him 24/7 you would think, hello, he has a girlfriend maybe I should back away and stop trying to fuck him anymore, but no, my boyfriends fucking her in Italy for two months, while his girlfriend is home waiting for him and missing him." you express in disbelief

"If I could take anything back, it would be that boundaries are a major thing, that first night I met her, I should have known that she wanted him all over him and how she would brush me away every time I would speak."

Sitting on the floor with Brian as the TV in the background was just for noise for your ears. Chineses was just ordered, and Brian brought you your favorite red wine and yap session.

"You're perfect, beautiful as people would say," Brian says jokey. He nudges your shoulder, teasing you. "Don't let this silly man drive you crazy you have major things coming for you, accomplished many, and our the people's princess if you have any takeaways with this shit, it would be he lost the baddest bitch he will ever meet. You should be proud of yourself but do not, and I mean I do not let this shit get you off your tracks, major things are happening in your life. Oscar red carpet for Anora, Fenty shoot, and Vanity Fair shoot with Lily-Rose Depp. Life has shit planned for you." He says while hugging you and reassuring you of your worries. "I love you hoe". He nudges you again.

You roll your eyes. "Love you more boo". You hug him

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: About

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

[Jerk Ford Not a jerk to his brother and only his brother The most hated Ford in the Multiverse]

[Doesn't need as much protecting Teen Jerk Ford: F#ck off Teen Stan: Ford! Don't do that!]

[Stan is a well liked guy Stan never ended up homeless, because Ford believed him]

Ford was the worst type of student because he's really good at everything that he does, just like any other version of himself. Like, the teachers were mad he was their best (academically speaking) student.

They'd prefer it if he was a delinquent who never did his homework and showed up late to class. But no, he not only did all of his assignments, but he also did extra credit that he didn't need, and showed up early to everything. Just like all of the other Fords.

He was the Chess, Spelling Bee, and Debate Team champion all four years he was in high school. He could have skipped several grades and only didn't because ya know, twin. And this continued while he was in college and got his 12 PHDs.

Stanley was his only supporter in all of that because everyone wanted him to fail. Some people (like their parents) even tried to pressure Stan into also hating his brother but one of the Universal Constants is that you can't make Stan hate his brother. People didn’t even bring up the fact that Stanley wasn’t the genius twin, people called him the ‘good twin’ because he wasn’t a jerk.

Stanley is just a regular guy in this AU. He was never a criminal or con artist. He went to Backupsmore University with Stanford and Fiddleford (Fiddleford would sometimes use Stan to pass messages along to Ford, because he did not want to talk to Ford if he didn't have to). He's a Chemistry Teacher who also helps out with Theatre.

[Bill: You tricked me!!! Jerk Ford: Skill Issue]

[Jerk Ford, to all other AU Fords: Wait! You all actually fell for that triangles flattery?! LOL]

He knew Bill Cipher was just f***ing with him with all of that talk of "I'm a muse" and "You're more special than everybody" (he already knew that he doesn't need a triangle to validate that). Ford just wanted to flip the script on him in the end in the most elaborate 1980s version of Jackass you've ever seen.

All of the other Fords hate him so much not just because he's a jerk (that's the majority of the reason though), but because of how weirdly competent and self-actualized he is comparatively speaking.

He didn't fall for Bill tricks. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't have the same hero (or villain, depending on the AU) complex. He doesn't want to take over the universe, or be the savior of it, or even be the one who kills Bill Cipher. He's just a jerk to everybody (except Stan) because he likes being a jerk.

Jerk Ford is one of the few Fords who maxed out his Charisma. He just uses that charisma to make people hate him instead of like him

Because charisma isn't just 'likability', it's your Presence and Force of Personality. His presence is so strong all he has to do is walk into a room, and you know he's an a**hole.

If you were to sum up what Jerk Ford is like around other Fords, it's like this:

"Every Stanford Pines in the multiverse reviles and despises that man."

Jerk Ford: You all want to be me so bad.

"NO WE DON'T YOU A**HOLE"

[Mabel: He's not actually THAT big of a jerk right?" Dipper: *wants to strangle him* Jerk Ford: Stanley who are these twerps?]

[Stan: Oh! They are family poindexter, Shermies grandkids! Jerk Ford: I see *doesn't care*]

If I were to give Jerk Ford a unique design to set him apart from Fords of other AUs, his turtleneck and muddied boots are swapped with these:

The hoodie is the usual red colour, the font is probably the same gold colour as his zodiac symbol. The puffed croc boots are also probably the same colour as canon Fords.

He doesn't have any embarrassing tattoos because the tattoo artists of Gravity Falls would never service Ford. Because he's not just banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls, but if he enters any business you are legally allowed to and encouraged to shoot him.

In fact Bill gave up possessing Ford to ruin his reputation with the townsfolk early on because nothing he did was worse than anything Ford did by himself.

You know how Ford drew himself coming out of the portal with aura in Journal Three?

Most of the other Fords try to look cool, and you just have this dude over here who doesn't give a s*** because he already believed his own hype. He doesn't feel the need to be ✨Extra✨ unless if he's being mean or generally unpleasant to somebody.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 // 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Series Synopsis: You were once a spoiled duchess-to-be, set to inherit a city on the brink of a war you knew nothing about — that is, until the war came to your doorstep and the aftermath of a brutal accident bound your fate to Seishiro Nagi’s forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Nagi comes bearing news. // Your father makes an announcement about the new family in Maradine.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Yukimiya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: death, killing, ptsd, reader is not a good person, actually nobody really is??, they all make mistakes as is to be expected, war is mentioned and the build-up/aftermath is discussed heavily but the actual conflict not so much, non-linear narrative, like HEAVILY non-linear there are two timelines for each chapter (pre and post war), probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame sorry y’all, alternate universe (early 1900s-ish vibe but not in our world because f historical accuracy), original characters (probably…idrk yet but it’s me so)

A/N: hey guys…so here i am…with the prologue to a new story instead of an update to anything i already have out BYE I’M FLEEING FROM SHAME i’ve been wanting to do something a bit more serious for a while though so i’m excited to give this a try!! some more elaboration on the tags/summary: this is like vaguely historical-ish but not completely, and it’s kind of like two stories being told concurrently?? one being reader’s life as an adult post war and the other her life as a child/teen pre war. every time there’s a ‘break’ in the chapter that indicates a timeline switch!! hopefully it’s kinda obvious which is which especially as we go along…anyways hope you all enjoy

“Kenyu Yukimiya is dead,” Nagi said. Medals sparkled against his breast, the gold a harsh contrast to the dark wool of his coat, and his arms were folded behind his back, which he kept ramrod straight, so unlike the slouch you once associated with him. “They thought it would be best if I were the one to inform you.”

He waited for you to say something, looking much like a mannequin all the while, his pale hair lifeless, his driftwood eyes dull and blank. His careful mouth was pursed into a plain expression which might be considered a frown on another person, but not on him.  Never on him. After all, Nagi did not frown. Nagi did not smile. Nagi did nothing.

“It should’ve been you,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, as prompt and detached as always. “It should’ve.”

Barlezia was a sweeping country, and perhaps you were biased in saying so, but there were none in the world that could claim to be its equal. In the north there were towering mountains which scraped at icy skies, a heavy blue-grey fog settled over their peaks, and to the south there was a vast sea, warm and aquamarine, which led to Drieji in the east and Abraria in the west.

It was on this sea, the Canonora, that the shining city of Maradine was located. Far enough from the northern capital of the nation to have taken on its own character, its own wealth, Maradine was the jewel of Barlezia, a place full of men with horses and women with parasols. Built upon a slate cliff, with houses lining the roads winding down to the pebbly sand, it jutted so far out into the water that some people spent their entire lives on their boats, only venturing onto land for the rare storms that might otherwise drown them.

Near the top of the cliff, where the marble government buildings were sequestered away from the rest of the city, there was a villa. It was the largest of its kind, the walls a deep red terracotta trimmed with white, the floors all glazed porcelain, the many colors and shapes painted onto the tiles making up larger designs of flowers, animals, and other such wonders. The villa overlooked the ocean and a canopy of trees, and it was widely regarded in all of Maradine as the most beautiful in that most beautiful of places, the filigree on an already intricate crown, the diamond in a choker of gold.

This was the villa where you were born, and this was the villa where you would, you presumed, die. Some forefather of yours had constructed it in a time where such art had been celebrated, where Barlezia had ruled the world, and it remained as a remnant of that age, a stronghold against modernity, even though your country had long ago bowed in deference to the ideals and traditions of those in the west.

“Child! Get down from there!” 

The woman that took care of you in lieu of your parents, who were often busy — your father with his politics, your mother with her parties — was slender and frail and too old for keeping up with anyone with any measure of youth. Her hair was entirely grey, and her face was perpetually lined, with sun, with shade, with age and wisdom and worry. You knew her simply as Nanny, and as she was the only one who ever had the courage to chastise you, you found you disliked her very much.

“My tenth birthday is approaching, so you ought not to call me a child any longer,” you said, your legs swinging from your perch in the boughs of a fig tree, the collar of your neatly-pressed dress splotched dark with the juice of the fruit you held in your hands.

“If you continue to behave like this, I certainly will!” she said, her hands on her hips. “Shall I call the manservant?”

The manservant was willful and rough; you doubted he would have any qualms about dragging you to the ground with his bare hands, were he so inclined. Taking one last bite out of the fig, you threw it to the ground, where it burst at Nanny’s feet, and then you clambered out of the tree with as much grace as you could muster.

“You horrid creature,” she hissed at you when you smiled at her, your skirt wrinkled and torn at the hem, your fingers sticky and purple. “How am I to present you to your father and mother in this state?”

“How you always present me, I expect,” you said, batting your eyelashes at her, skipping lightly towards the door. “With more fuss than required.”

She grabbed you by the ear before you could get very far, yanking it sternly, earning a howl out of you. Stomping your foot, you glared at her and waited for her to let go, which she only did when she was assured you would not flee again.

“I will send along a message that you will be late to breakfast. To your room, missy, I won’t have it thought that the young duchess is some mannerless, ill-behaved ruffian,” she said, ushering you towards your quarters as if you were a sordid secret.

“Maybe you need to be better about watching me, and then my manners will improve,” you said, and because you were not doing anything untoward, only saying it, the most she could respond with was an exaggerated sigh.

She bathed you for the second time that morning, quicker than the first, and then she dressed you in something without pattern or finery. Certainly it must’ve pained her, for the ruined dress balled up and thrown into a wastebasket had been much prettier than this one, but there was nothing she could do about it, bar glaring at you as she yanked it over your head.

Nanny wasn’t always so foul-tempered; it was only when you tried her patience, as you did today, that she got to be in such a mood. Else she was a tolerable woman, if not a kind one, and generally softer with her motions. She had mentioned to you a long time ago that she had children of her own, two daughters and a son, the youngest of whom was closer to your mother’s age than your own. You supposed it meant she had some experience with child-rearing, hence why your parents had chosen her amongst the many applicants, and you sometimes wondered if she had treated her own progeny the way she treated you.

Once, you had asked her. She had told you, with a click of her tongue, that she was far stricter with them; however, as you could not fathom anything more chafing than her treatment of you, you found it hard to believe.

Although you were older now — nearly ten years of age, as you liked to remind everyone — you were still not considered enough of an adult to eat with your parents and the rest of adults at meals. Instead you would sit in your room and make faces if the food was not to your liking, discreetly glancing at Nanny out of the corner of your eye and throwing away what you couldn’t stand when you were sure she was not looking. The exception was meals which were meant to be occasions or announcements, wherein your presence was absolutely and unquestionably required.

Today was an announcement, not an occasion, or at least that was what Nanny told you. You did not know the nature of the announcement, only that she was more nervous than usual as the two of you walked to the breakfast room, where your parents would be waiting for you. Up until then, you had been convinced that she had only had two modes of being — fed-up and obedient — so the discovery of this third intrigued you far more than whatever news you might be given.

“Nanny,” your father said. “Y/N. Good morning.”

He did not comment on your tardiness, and neither did he have to; his disapproval was the silent type, which radiated into the air and shimmered like steam, cowing in its intangibility. Your mother offered you a half-smile, as trained and perfect as yours one day would be, and you smiled back at her, your entire focus going into ensuring it was not crooked.

“Good morning, father, mother,” you said, settling into the large chair at your mother’s right, your feet just barely brushing the floor when you were settled with your spine to the cushioned back. “I apologize for the delay.”

“It is inconsequential,” your father said, which was as much of a reprimand as you’d ever get out of him. “We have more important matters to discuss now that you are finally here.”

“There is to be a party,” your mother said. This was nothing out of the ordinary, for your mother, as the Duchess of Maradine, was invited to every party that could be reached from the villa in less than a day. What was strange was that both she and your father thought that you needed to be informed of this occurrence.

“I see,” you said.

“It’s that family from Aprissari,” your father said, sneering at the mention of Barlezia’s capital, the city nestled in the mountains to the north of the country, which may have been the center of your nation’s power but was nowhere near as prosperous as Maradine, never had been and never would be. “The Yukimiyas. The wife is an opera singer and the husband is far more involved in foreign affairs than he has any right to be.”

“And they are rich,” your mother said, patiently and coolly. “Richer than mere commoners. Rich enough to be considered members of the nobility, if we are not careful.”

“We must build proper relations. An alliance, so to speak, but also a reminder that they are no longer in Aprissari,” your father said. “It must be clear to them and to everyone that in Maradine, their money is meaningless if they do not have the approval of the L/N family.”

“Their son is only a little older than you,” your mother continued, perhaps noticing that you no longer held much interest in the conversation, which had diverted to topics of which you had little understanding and even less interest. “The party is being held in honor of his twelfth birthday, and you are to befriend him as best you can.”

“It won’t be difficult,” your father said, and the reluctance of his conviction was the first clue you had that the arrival of these Yukimiyas meant something more to your family than you could possibly know. “You are Y/N L/N; there’s not a child this side of the country that wouldn’t want to be your friend. But you must do it.”

If Nanny or the manservant or anyone else in the L/Ns’ employ told you something so harshly, you would’ve protested or found some way around it, but this was not anyone else. This was your father, Duke L/N himself, and so it was as much a royal command as it was a request from someone who loved you. Perhaps it was even more the former than it was the latter; based on the wideness of your father’s eyes and the lowering of your mother’s lashes, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was the case.

“Yes, father,” you said. “I shall do as you say.”

“Good,” he said. “Finish eating and then attend your lessons as usual. We shall leave once the sun sets.”

You ate at a record pace. Your parents were exchanging looks that said they wanted to speak to one another alone, and it was only your presence which was hindering them, so you endeavored to make yourself scarce as fast as you could without seeming rude. 

Excusing yourself quietly, your head bowed until you left the room, you followed Nanny towards your chambers, deep in thought, turning over the directive your parents had left you with. Befriending the son of the Yukimiyas. For you, who had never had a friend your own age, it was more difficult of a task than your parents must’ve anticipated, so with a tug on the end of Nanny’s apron, you halted in your tracks.

“You heard my father, right, Nanny?” you said. “I have to befriend that boy.”

“That you do,” Nanny said, and then there was a fourth aspect to her which you unlocked: sympathy, glimmering in her irises like a sunrise on the crest of a wave. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” you said. She patted you on the head, brusque and perfunctory, like she was dusting flour off of her hands, yet somehow affectionate, in her way.

“You’ll have to learn, missy,” she said. “Ties with the Yukimiyas may be invaluable in the years to come.”

“Whatever do you mean?” you said. She placed one hand against the wall, her thumb tracing an idle circle over it as she contemplated something or another.

“There are as many ideas of what’ll happen to the continent as there are fish in the Canonora Sea,” she said. “Whether by will or force, Barlezia shall, like every other nation, choose which they back. If they choose wrong, then Maradine will bear the brunt of the consequences. That is all.”

“But what do the Yukimiyas have to do with it?” you insisted.

“Nothing and everything, child! You will understand when you are older. Now hush and go to your lessons,” she said, breaking from her trance and pushing you into your room, where one or another of your tutors would, invariably, be waiting for you.

You wanted to rail at her, to tell her that you weren’t too young, that you deserved to know as well as she did what might yet happen to your own city. Before you could say anything more, however, she shut the door behind you, leaving you standing alone by the wastebasket, where a rusty stain the color of fig juice continued to spread down the sleeve of your crumpled dress.

[wistsandmagic]

No Way Out (Brother I Let You Down)

Welp. I finally caved in to one of the plot bunnies @keferon 's Mecha AU keeps putting in my brain. So here, have some Swindle and Vortex ANGST.

(under the cut because it's over 2k words)

It was the middle of the night. The lights in the hangar were dimmed, the sounds of the skeleton crew that worked as night shift far away in the mechanics’ sector, not on the hangar floor. The mecha stood still in their refuel bays, waiting on the next time the Quintessons attacked, when the alarms would blare and the hangar would become a frantic cacophony of activity.

For now though, things were quiet. Still.

Lonely.

Swindle walked silently across the catwalk strung between the mecha, the smell of oil and gear lubricant seeping into his nose like an old friend's aftershave. He didn't smell that often enough nowadays. Sometimes he missed it.

Sometimes, he thought, turning at a path junction to walk down to one particular mecha's bay, one that towered over everything else in the hangar. Sometimes he just missed the people that the smell accompanied.

No one would have ever guessed that he and Vortex had been close friends. They fought like cats and dogs, always sniping at each other, yelling and picking at each other until Onslaught had to break them up before things got too physical. They'd both ended up in medbay more than once after a fight hadn't been broken up quickly enough. They were the youngest of the group, after all, and so close in age that fights seemed almost inevitable.

Swindle had thought of Vortex as the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother. When he didn't come back from that ill-fated mission...

The former pilot stopped in front of the giant mecha in the bay, the faint hint of old blood adding itself to the scents mingling in his nose. Vortex's mecha always smelled vaguely bloody, though since that young medic-turned-pilot, First Aid, had taken over, things weren't as strong. Swindle thought that might be a good thing. Maybe.

He wasn't one to really believe in ghosts, not in the way people meant. A spirit that haunted the living? Seemed improbable. Ghosts were the memories that lingered when you stared at the things the dead had left behind. The scents that once followed them suddenly wafting through the air, the feel of a missing presence, an ache that never went away. That was a 'ghost'.

But when Swindle stared at the red visor of Vortex's mech – it would always be Vortex's mech to him, no matter who piloted it or for how long – it was all too easy to imagine the other kind of ghost. All too easy to give in to the superstitions surrounding this mecha, to believe that a malevolent spirit haunted it, for all it seemed to at least like First Aid. One pilot it didn't want to kill.  

The visor stared back blankly, and Swindle caught sight of his own reflection, warped and twisted by the thick, bullet-proof plexiglass. Somehow the warped reflection felt more like it was the real him than the him that existed in his own skin, at that moment. All of the stress, the heaviness, the days of lying through his teeth and pretending he cared less than he did, that all he was in things for was the money, that the pilots that came back to base maimed and traumatized didn't matter to him as long as the program got the money needed, that his best friend who couldn't even remember that he was Swindle's best friend was laying in a hospital bed, half of his body burned and his mind in tatters didn't matter beyond his ability to bring in investors...

It was too much. It was just...too much.

"H...hey," he managed, flinching at how much his own voice cracked. Where was the smarmy car-salesman he pretended at being? The smooth operator, the con man? "...Vortex, if...if you're in there, buddy, y'mind? I just..." Tears pricked at the corners of Swindle's eyes, startling him and making him put a hand to his face. Man, he was losing it, wasn't he? "I...I just needed..."

Before he knew it, Swindle found himself slumping to the catwalk floor, his back to Vortex's mech. Knew that if the ghost stories were true, that might not be a good idea, but he'd always trusted his friend. His brother. Saw no reason to stop now. "I miss you, y'know that?" He murmured, trying to stem the flow of tears without letting his voice hitch. "The entire...the entire program's shit. I know we knew that already, but...Vee, it's got so much worse. And here I am...actively promoting the damn thing 'cause we have no other choice. " ...he hadn't called Vortex 'Vee' in years. It was usually "Tex"; that was what Vortex had preferred. Swindle was the only one that could ever get away with calling him Vee without getting punched, even so. Swindle had reserved it for special occasions, knowing he held privilege. Now seemed like as good a time as any. Vortex wasn't there any longer to half-heartedly gripe at him for the affectionate diminutive.

That didn't make it better.

Swindle leaned his head back until it thunked against the catwalk railing, letting him stare up from behind his rose-tinted glasses toward the ceiling, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. "I dunno what to do to stop it, Vee. You were always the one c-coming up with the harebrained schemes that somehow worked. You always were smarter than I am, just damn crazy. We worked so good together, like brothers, you 'n me." He laughed mirthlessly, a shaking hand coming up to cover his face as he sobbed, unable to stop himself. "...though guess I'm probably the crazy one now, h-huh. Talkin' to your mech like somehow you c-can hear me through it. Like you're gonna act like my crazy older brother again and somehow tell me this's all gonna work out in the end, and I'm not a heartless monster for doin' this, goin' along with this shit."

He didn't pay attention to the faint nudging at his side at first, figuring it was just the edge of the railing digging into his ribs. When the touch became more insistant, however, he looked down, blinking away tears. Only to stare dumbly at the very large fingertip pressed ever so gently against his side. His breath caught, and for a moment Swindle couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move, because that was the hand of Vortex's mech, his index finger pressed almost lovingly to Swindle's side, rubbing up and down very slightly now that Swindle was actively paying attention. Almost as if it were trying to comfort him.

Dashing tears from his eyes with the back of one hand, Swindle switched his attention from the massive finger at his side to the head of the mech beside him, expecting to see First Aid curled up inside the cockpit controlling things. But no, the cockpit was empty, the faint lights inside just enough to let him see through the visor before everything flared to life, the visor turning bright and opaque as the mech's head turned slowly to look directly at Swindle.

He'd spent years pretending there was no such thing as ghosts, hating that Vortex's mech killed pilots, but refusing to believe it was anything other than glitches. To say otherwise would be having to say that something of his friend, his brother, still lingered, and Swindle couldn't help him. Now, though, he couldn't deny it. He could feel Vortex there, staring at him through the mech, through that red visor so much like Vortex's own remembered helmet. He blinked as the sound of soft static filled the air, a mechanical text-to-speech voice whispering through the speakers embedded in the mech's head. "Swindler, c'mon now. You never were one for tears, little bro."

If...if Vortex intended that to stop Swindle from crying, it had the exact opposite effect. Sure, the voice was mechanical, it sounded off, but that was still, somehow, Vortex's voice, and Swindle hadn't heard it outside of old recordings for far too long. He shakily got to his feet, one hand covering his mouth to muffle himself while the other scrabbled frantically for Vortex's finger, any and all fears about the rogue mecha deciding to crush him into paste fleeing from his mind in his desperation to have some part of Vee touching him. Only Vortex ever called him "Swindler". Only Vortex ever called him little bro.

"A...are you really in there, Vee?" Even to Swindle's own ears he sounded pathetic. Not like himself at all. It was the stress. It had to be the stress. That was the only explanation.Maybe he was crazy. Maybe watching Blurr almost die was the final straw that broke him, and now he was headed for the looney bin as soon as someone found him. Damn. But hearing Vortex's voice, even distorted by machinery, coming from his mech, broke something inside Swindle's soul, and grief came pouring out whether he wanted it to or not.

Again that soft static, again that voice. "In the figurative flesh, Swindler." Somehow it even managed to retain Vortex's characteristic croon, the way he only spoke to those he actually liked, not the bitten-off snark of those he tolerated, or the open hiss to those he actively hated. Vortex carefully raised his hand over the railing, making Swindle step back a pace, and lowered a couple of his fingers, beckoning carefully. "C'mere. Can't hug you, know you need it, but c'mere anyway." Swindle should have thought twice. Every protocol to do with Vortex – the mech, not the long-dead person – screamed about caution and wariness. But this was Vortex. The person, not the mech. Crazy, full of bloodlust, stay out of his way on the battlefield, don't make him hate you, sure, but above all else he was Swindle's mech partner, his brother, his friend closer than a brother. The one who always had his back on and off the battlefield, in ways Onslaught never could.

He stepped into Vortex's hand without hesitation, trembling hands coming down to help hold himself steady as Vortex's fingers and thumb gripped him in a hold too gentle to come from a mech's default pilotless programming. He saw the visor open, and before he knew it he was deposited gently inside, warm air that smelled vaguely of vanilla – had First Aid hung an air freshener somewhere? – already wafting through the cockpit.

The speakers crackled to life. "Find a seat, little bro." Cabling hissed out of hidden apertures, operating oddly like hands and arms as they found Swindle, pulled him in closer to the emergency jumpseat off to the side of the pilot's seat, designed for maintenance and a place to stretch if trapped in the cockpit for too long, pulling it out from the wall and ushering Swindle to sit. Like Vortex knew Swindle couldn't bring himself to sit in the pilot's seat of a mech that didn't belong to him, that still belonged to Vortex, even if First Aid was 'sharing' it now.

"Vee..." "Hush." The voice was rough, kindness having always been oddly difficult for Vortex to manage, always making him sound like he was angry at himself for daring to show any kind of humanity. That was the case now, of course. Death hadn't changed some things. A lot of things. Still, Vortex's cabling wrapped gently around Swindle once he sat, draping over his shoulders and snaking across his lap like one of Vortex's annoying full-body hugs that had always been so good simply because of their rarity, even if he had to be drunk to give them. The thought made Swindle want to tear up all over again, grief and stress radiating off of him even as he reached out to brush over one of the cables, feeling unseen eyes watching him as he did his best to gather himself, unable to feel any fear for the faint malevolent presence that surrounded him, because he knew that malevolence wasn't directed at him. It never had been."I...you didn't come back," Swindle whispered, swallowing to try and keep his voice steady. "You died, Vee, and everything else went to hell after. It's only gotten worse now, and I...I didn't...I didn't even know you were still in here. You died."

"Yeah, I died. But. Still here, little bro. Got me a good pilot now that I like, finally, but I'm still here." Vortex's voice softened a little, in ways that would make almost anyone who knew him before his death stare at him like he'd lost even more of his marbles. Nobody ever really got to see this side of him other than the one pilot in their group who was younger than him; Swindle had been the only one to deserve the softness he was capable of, and even then only in secret. "Can't get rid of me that easily. I still got your back, y'know?" The cables wrapped around Swindle tightened slightly, reiterating Vortex's point and enclosing him in just that little bit of security. A hug from his dead friend, who was not entirely dead, and always closer to being more than even a brother would have been.

"Okay Swindler. Let's talk, you'n me. Let's come up with a plan. I'm here, little bro." "Always will be."

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Maybe [Soap x Fem!OC]

Summary: Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Author’s Notes: This is a little of a long intro, feel free to skip it! I’ve been reading fanfiction for years, and I’ve started dozens of fics. This is the first one I’ve ever finished. (11.8K words!!!) It started off with me wanting Soap to get some medical care for his unaddressed injuries after Alone, and just exploded from there. I wanted to really highlight the bond he and Ghost formed, and then I wanted to give him love (because he deserves it!). I know it’s a bit sparse on the Price and Gaz side of things, but I feel like their bonds with Soap are sort of assumed going into this game. This game, to me, is about Soap learning that sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always so obvious, and Ghost learning to work with a team, thanks to Soap. I loved this campaign dearly, so I have a lot of dialogue carried over from scenes I really wanted to set. That being said, I changed some stuff to better incorporate my OC, Daniela. Writing reader-insert fics is a skill I just do not possess. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it!

And to my dear @uselsshuman, who is the furthest thing from useless, thank you so much for your encouragement to write this. Your writing and support really inspired me to get this done. This one’s for you. ❤

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content

Soap tucked himself behind a door, braced his back against the wall, and did his level best to breathe as silently as possible. He could hear the Shadows’ footsteps and radio chatter nearby.

He pulled back the hammer on the desert eagle he’d found in the café safe and held his breath. He didn’t want to get into a gunfight, not here. Not with them. He had decent cover, but his arm throbbed where a bullet was lodged, his ribs stung where his plates had kept him from another, his whole body ached from his jumps and falls in the city, and he was almost certain he’d damaged something in his left hip the day before. 

That particular injury came from running along cliff faces to escape the cartel, which was bad enough. Adding the Shadows to that? That was terrible.

As the footsteps faded, Soap let out a slow, low breath and slumped to the ground. He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment, taking stock of his ability to get across the plaza to the church. To Ghost. As if he knew that he was being thought about, Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Soap?“ he asked softly.

“Ghost,” whispered Soap.

“You alright?”

Soap opened his eyes and took a deep breath, peeked around the door, and answered “Think I found a way through, LT.”

“Shadows are everywhere. I’ll hold ‘em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil.”

“Roger that.” Soap crept up through the shop, taking care to stay low and move quietly.

“Give ‘em hell, Johnny. We’re almost there,” rumbled Ghost. After a moment’s pause, he added “Listen, I picked up an ally. Should help us get out of here a little easier. You’ve just got to us and we’ll get to a vehicle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Ally? In Mexico? Only two people came to mind, and they were both “detained”.

“Is it Price?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“No, one of Alejandro's Vaqueros. Wasn’t on base when Graves moved in. Showed up, realized something was wrong. We found each other killing Shadows, decided to team up.”

Soap chanced raising his head to peer out of the shop window. Seeing no Shadows, he moved for the door. “And you trust ‘im?”

“Enough, at least for now.”

“Copy that, LT. I’m on my way.”

He wiggled the door handle, but of course, nothing could be so easy. It was locked. So he pulled out the last of his makeshift pry tools, braced it in the door jamb, and pulled.

Lots of things happened all at once, then.

The door swung open. Soap yelled “Fuck!” while the Shadow said “what the- GET DOWN!”, and hit Soap with the butt of his rifle. The Shadow called his position, Soap heard “kill him!”, and then the Shadow dropped to the ground. Soap scrambled back, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and groaning. His vision swam and his ears rang and he couldn’t get his bearings. Two more Shadows, running for the building, dropped to the sharp report of silenced sniper fire.

“Holy hell. Ghost, was that you?” Soap asked.

“Who else?” snapped Ghost’s rough voice. “Now go!”

He scrambled to his feet. And ran.

He ran as fast as his bruised body would let him, ducking behind cars and spraying with an SMG he’d picked up. He heard gunfire coming from ahead of him and cursed, grabbing for his radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Johnny, got company in the church and they are not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, we’ll be there!”

In the last few meters, Soap saw Ghost come careening out of the church doors, followed closely by a much smaller figure dressed all in black. They both turned to shoot at their followers as Soap and Ghost called out to each other. Ghost vaulted over the wrought iron fence, followed by their ally, and the three ran back the way Soap had come.

“We need a vehicle. On me!” Ghost barked. “Stay sharp. They know we’re here and they know it’s us. They’ll send more.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, after a brief firefight, the three piled into a pickup, panting and on high alert. 

“Alright, Johnny! You made it.”

“We made it, LT.” 

After ramming two Shadows with their stolen pickup, and nearly losing Ghost to another, they peeled off down an alley. Soap sagged against the seat, closing his eyes again. His heart and head were pounding.

“How’s that arm, Johnny?” asked Ghost.

Soap raised his head. “I’ll live,” he answered. He shivered violently, once, and Ghost cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“You sure it’s not infected?”

“Of course I’m not sure,” snapped Soap. Softening his voice, he added “But I think it’s just the cold. Between the tunnels and the rain, LT? Feels like I’m back home.”

Ghost nodded slowly. For a long moment, the two just basked in each others’ presence, grateful to have made it back together. Then, Ghost said “Daniela, would you take a look at the Sergeant’s arm? Can’t have him dying on us.”

Soap’s head snapped around to lock eyes with the ally he’d forgotten. Later, he’d remember this moment as an indication of his quickly deteriorating state. In the moment, though, he couldn’t wrap his head around anything but the woman in front of him.

Sometime between their getting into the truck and down the street, the black balaclava and hood had come off. The woman staring back at him had light olive skin and a mass of shiny black curls plastered to her head by rain. A thin, jagged, silvery scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, and her full lips were pursed in a barely-there smile. Soap thought he saw scarred flesh at the collar of her jacket. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were the bluest blue he’d ever seen- dark like the ocean, clear like the sky on a cloudless night, and as sharp as glass. Familiar, somehow.

He hadn’t necessarily had expectations of how this ally would look, but this was as far from expectation as possible. He had pictured a man, but even the fact that she was a woman wasn’t most shocking of all. It was her beauty.

He flinched when her hand landed lightly on his right shoulder, pulling gently.

“No, we can’t,” she said. Her voice was soft, musical, lightly accented. The lilt of just those three words had Soap’s head spinning for, at least he thought, completely different reasons than it had been spinning earlier. He adjusted his body so that rather than leaning with his left arm over the seat, his right arm hung over. The woman looked straight to the wound, gently prodding the flesh around the bullet wound, and Soap bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Soap tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said “Not so much.”

Ghost snorted. Soap didn’t blame him. The words sounded strained even to his own ears. And based on the older man’s jokes about not watching the cartel’s videos of his death “more than once”, this seemed like just the kind of thing he might find amusing. The thought made Soap smirk. The woman rolled her eyes, setting them on his again.

“What’s your name, hen?”

“I am Daniela. You are Soap, yes?” Soap nodded. Daniela nodded as well, focusing back on his arm. “Your Ghost, he told you that I am with Los Vaqueros?”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a look at “your Ghost”. Now Soap really was smirking, and he imagined that Ghost was grimacing under his mask.

“Aye, that he did,” he replied. He watched as Daniela unzipped her tactical vest and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She began winding it around his bicep, grimacing slightly at the wheeze of pain he couldn’t hold back.

“Well we have a safehouse. We’ll get there, stock up, get you patched up a little better, and come up with a plan.” After carefully tying a knot in the makeshift bandage, she raised her eyes to Soap’s again. “It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to face Ghost. “Alright, Ghost?”

Ghost glanced at him again. Even behind the mask, Soap could see his expression soften. “Alright, Johnny. You did well back there.” Soap grinned, and could tell by the crinkling around his eyes that Ghost was grinning, too.

“All thanks to you, LT.”

The rest of the ride was filled with soft chatter about Alejandro, Los Vaqueros, Graves, and the safehouse… and Soap trying, and failing, not to feel Daniela’s burning stare on the back of his neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap thought he was done for when Ghost shouted for him not to move. His feet had just touched the safehouse floor and Ghost was perched in the window. Before Soap even had time to react, a throwing knife flew past his head, embedding itself in the column just a meter away. Then he recognized Rodolfo’s voice. 

“Quién está ahí?”

“Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo rounded the corner. “Soap, Ghost! You’re alive!” Soap could see the moment Daniela mounted the window. Rodolfo’s face crumbled, his whole body seeming to sag with relief. “Daniela!”

“Rodolfo!” She leapt from the windowsill, surging forward to wrap her arms around Rodolfo’s waist. His own arms came around her shoulders and the two rocked back and forth, holding each other, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that Soap had no hope of understanding. Rodolfo kissed the side of Daniela’s head, holding her to him tightly. Soap looked away. His eyes met Ghost’s and the two shared a slight shrug.

While Rodolfo and Daniela chattered away, Ghost stepped toward Soap.

“Daniela should be able to fix up that arm,” he said. “She’s not a formally trained medic, but she has lots of field training and experience. She told me she’s been patching up Los Vaqueros for years.”

“Aye. How’d you say you found her? Fighting Shadows?”

Ghost looked her way, nodding. “Just a few minutes before I got you on comms, I heard a scuffle. Thought it might be you, so I went in to assist. Lo and behold, I find that one slicing up a Shadow. ‘Nother pair showed up, though, and one got her in a choke-hold. Would’ve carried her off to who knows where if I hadn’t shown up.”

Soap nodded slowly. He didn’t need any more explanation. He knew the implications of what Ghost was saying and it made his blood boil.

Ghost shrugged. “She trusted me enough since I’d just saved her life, and I trusted her enough since she was fighting them and didn’t raise her gun at me. Plus, I think she’s as dedicated to the cause as Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

“Why’s that?” asked Soap. But before Ghost could answer, Rodolfo cut in.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” answered Ghost.

“I was on the run,” corrected Soap. “Ghost waited for me.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Of course, no?”

Dread sank in Soap’s stomach. “No-” he began. But Ghost cut him off.

“Yes,” he said firmly, locking eyes with Soap again. “We’re a team. All of us.”

That stunned Soap into silence. He’d known they’d bonded trying to escape Las Almas with their lives, but for all of his teasing about Ghost taking a shine to him, he hadn’t actually believed that Ghost would say the same thing.

He was touched.

Maybe even more touched by the fact that the legendary lone-wolf Ghost considered him part of his team. It was likely the highest compliment he would ever get from him.

So while Rodolfo and Ghost started in on their plan to get into the prison, Soap settled down against the safehouse wall with an MRE from Alejandro’s supplies. The adrenaline shot he’d managed to get his hands on in Las Almas was waning, and he could feel every sore muscle, the bullet in his arm, and his likely sprained hip sharply. He tried to tune in to the conversation, but his attention was immediately lost when Daniela approached him with a med kit.

She grinned a bit wryly at him. “Mind if I take a better look at that arm?” Soap nodded and braced himself to stand, but Daniela jumped forward, holding out a hand. “No, don’t get up,” she said. Soap settled back to the ground as she crouched by him, reaching for her makeshift bandage from earlier.

Soap studied her as she worked. Her hair had dried and now sat at least a few centimeters higher on her head, tight ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit as she carefully removed the bloodied fabric. Her movements were calculated, washing the wound and looking at it closely.

“How did you join Los Vaqueros?” Soap asked. For a moment, Daniela didn’t acknowledge him. Then she raised her gaze to his.

Instead of answering his question, she said “I need to get the bullet out. It’s going to hurt. Think you can handle it?”

Soap nodded once, sharply. Her gaze softened. “I don’t have any painkillers. This isn’t going to be some… little pain. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Soap cocked a wry grin back at her. “Just so long as my screaming doesn’t bother you,” he teased. A wicked spark lit in her eyes at that.

“It won’t bother me. Maybe I’d like to hear you scream.”

Soap’s jaw dropped. It was exactly the type of thing he’d say, but having it said to him was dumbfounding. Who was this woman?

Her smile only grew as she watched him try to compose himself. He was grateful when her gaze dropped back to the task at hand, sterilizing a pair of forceps. He was sure his face was flaming red.

“Los Vaqueros saved my life when I was sixteen,” she said softly. “My village leader refused the cartel’s demands, so El Sin Nombre set to burning the village down. I was one of three survivors.” That explained Ghost’s certainty of her dedication.

She moved to his right side, between his leg and outstretched arm, and gripped his bicep below the bullet wound.

“My whole family died that day.”

She set the forceps at the wound’s entry. Soap took a deep breath.

“I have burns all over my body from our house burning down.” That explained the scarring at her neck.

Soap lurched forward, gasping, when she dug the forceps in. The pain was so blinding that he nearly missed Daniela cursing softly in Spanish before sitting on his right leg, leaning her body against his to keep him from moving. Nearly missed. But didn’t. 

“Lo ciento,” she whispered, sparing him a concerned glance. He grit his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Daniela shrugged. “Alejandro pulled me out of that fire,” she continued. Her tone was light, but seemed forced. Soap wasn’t sure whether it was her attempt to calm him or to pretend her story didn’t bother her.

He felt the moment that the forceps grasped the bullet. Took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Nothing prepared him for the feeling. He’d been shot before, multiple times. Bullet removal wasn’t a walk in the park, but he hadn’t realized just how much the painkillers mattered.

Soap was not proud of the whimper he let out when Daniela yanked the bullet out in one clean motion. She dropped the forceps onto a medical tray and lightly patted his cheek before inspecting the wound closely, muttering about infection and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a bottle of pills. 

“Here, take these. Antibiotics,” she said. After watching Soap swallow the pills, she picked a needle and thread up out of the med kit and continued. “Rodolfo threw a wet blanket over me. They put ointment on my burns and fed me. They offered me a home. They taught me to fight. They’ve been my family ever since.” 

Soap felt a pang of kinship at her words. He flinched slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but the pain died to a dull burn as Daniela kept stitching.

“Now that, I do understand,” he said. 

“You have no family?”

“No. Just the 141.”

After a few more strokes, she tied off the thread and laid a hand on his chest.

“They are my brothers. We must get Alejandro back.”

Soap reached up to cover her hand, belatedly hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel his heart pounding when she met his gaze. “We will, hermana.”

The smile she gave him was small, but her eyes were warm. It lasted for a brief moment before she arched an eyebrow. 

“Hermana?” She leaned forward until her mouth brushed Soap’s ear and he was sure that she could feel his heartbeat stutter. “I certainly hope not.”

With that, she picked up her medical kit and sauntered away, leaving Soap to stare after her in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting into the prison compound was easy enough. 

“Trash bin on your right, time to take out the trash.”

“Shut up, Soap, fucking hell.”

A giggle from Daniela.

“Shoot him.”

“No, got something else in mind.”

“Fucking beautiful, sir!”

Impressed mumbling from Rodolfo.

“Cut and paste him, Ghost.”

Soap and Ghost’s banter amused Daniela to no end, even though Soap was sure he’d never been so anxious in his life. Having Ghost’s life almost solely in his hands was a responsibility he never wanted to feel again. But working with Rodolfo again helped to ease his mind.

Nearly being killed by Alejandro was less than ideal, but made worth it to watch him reunite with Rodolfo and Daniela.

“Alejandro! Al- it’s me, hermano!”

“Coronel, relájese somos nosotros!”

“Soap, Rudy, Ghost! Daniela!”

“Didn’t think we’d leave you, did ya?”

“What took you so long, pendejos?”

Getting out wasn’t quite as easy. 

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us get out.”

“With Johnny’s help.”

“Eh, I can’t call Soap ‘Johnny’.”

“Don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

“Aww, really? Only your Ghost? What about me?”

“Yes, Johnny, what about Daniela?”

“Can it, LT.”

But between Los Vaqueros and the 141, they made it. Soap couldn’t put into words how much relief he felt upon seeing Gaz and hearing the old man’s voice. After being hoisted to the top, he and Daniela ended up shoulder to shoulder, her covering him while he detonated the Shadows vehicles.

“Have you been with the 141 long?” she shouted over the sounds of gunfire.

“The 141 hasn’t been around all that long,” he shouted back. “But yeah, I’ve been with ‘em since the start.” He raised his rifle, picking off three snipers with three shots.

Daniela raised an impressed eyebrow. “I can see why!”

Soap grinned wide, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he raised the detonator. “Would you be impressed if I told you I rigged the explosives for these things, too?”

Daniela returned his grin full force. “I would be.”

Soap’s grin only widened before he pressed the button, eyes locked with Daniela’s. He lowered his voice and said “Ka-freaking-boom, baby.” She’d giggled when he said it earlier, and as the APC exploded, she let out another delighted squeal.

“Handsome and clever? This is a good combination, Johnny,” she said. Soap was grateful that shooting was such second nature to him because in that moment, all coherent thoughts ceased to exist. When he managed to look back to Daniela, she was smiling slyly. She picked off a sniper from across the yard and Soap shook his head. Witty, intelligent, beautiful, and a good shot. 

When the door to their right crashed open, Soap threw himself in front of Daniela to cover her as they each shot one of the men inside. Ghost barked at Soap about weapons, and he came back to the wall with a grenade launcher. He released several grenades before the last of Alejandro’s men mounted the wall top, and then made sure that Daniela went down the other side before him.

When he stumbled getting to their transport out, he chalked it up to battle fatigue, which he told both Ghost and Daniela when they asked whether he was okay. Neither looked convinced, but neither questioned him. They did sit on either side of him for the ride back to the safehouse, though.

Daniela leaned close to him. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Never better,” he lied. His whole body throbbed in varying levels of discomfort and pain. At least his head had stopped throbbing. Daniela leveled her gaze at him, and he returned a wide grin. She rolled her eyes and dropped it. Instead, she said “Thank you for covering me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Soap’s grin softened. “I know,” he said.

Back at the safe house, lively music played softly in the garage as Los Vaqueros cleaned weapons, loaded vehicles, and fed themselves. Soap felt slightly out of place, like he and the rest of the 141 were walking into someone’s home. Everyone either had something to say or shook hands with Daniela and Rodolfo as they passed, and they both smiled warmly at their friends.

Soap and Ghost made their way to an unoccupied pair of cots in the corner, observing their newfound comrades. Price had disappeared with Alejandro to formulate a plan, ordering the two to sleep. But exhausted as he was, Soap wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter which way he turned, something ached or stung. He tried relaxing his muscles. He tried breathing deeply. He tried counting sheep. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fire and the blood from the streets of Las Almas. He could hear the screaming and the pleading and the gunfire. He tried covering his eyes, and his ears. Eventually, he rolled to his side, facing Ghost. He was startled to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes. 

“Simon?” Soap asked softly. 

“Johnny,” said Ghost, equally as softly. 

Soap chewed his lip. “Do you ever forget?”

Ghost held his stare, unflinching. “No. You don’t.” Soap hadn’t realized before, but Ghost’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired. He’d learned quickly that he slept infrequently, and for short periods of time. It made a lot more sense, now. Ghost rolled over, huffing out a soft breath. “But eventually, you’ll learn to sleep anyway.”

Soap stared at his back, wondering if he would. Wondering if Ghost ever had. He didn’t know how long he stared at his teammate, but it felt like hours later that someone sat gently on the end of his cot. He flew up, grabbing for the bowie knife he kept in his tactical vest. 

Daniela raised her hands, offering a tired smile. “Mind if I take a look at that arm?”

“Sure.” Soap swung his legs off of the cot, resting his hands on the edge. Daniela turned toward him, reaching out and carefully pulling off the dressing she’d applied that early morning. 

“How does it feel? Any sharp pains or itching? Any dizziness, fever?” As soon as she said fever, Soap realized he’d been sweating more than usual. He’d absolutely been feeling dizzy since that harrowing night on the run, but it seemed to have died down throughout the day. And now that he actually paid attention long enough, it was quite itchy.

“No,” he lied. Once again, those ocean eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, challenging him. She knew. But she didn’t say anything, simply reached into the med kit for the same bottle of antibiotics and handed him two. Soap took them gratefully. The team couldn’t afford to be without him, and Ghost would surely order him to stay back if he thought the Sergeant was at all compromised.

Again, she washed the wound with antiseptic, then applied a fresh coat of salve before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“Why are you awake, anyway?” she asked suddenly. Soap’s head snapped up, eyes flying to hers. She looked nearly as exhausted as Ghost, all bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair and sagging shoulders. Still gorgeous.

Soap shrugged uncomfortably. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

She shrugged back, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either. It makes sense, though. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” The last few days? When Soap cocked an eyebrow at her, she fidgeted a bit. “I, uh… I was there in the cartel house. When Valeria interrogated you.”

Several things clicked into place for Soap very suddenly. Alejandro had taken him to the elevator once he got into the cartel house, and another guard had escorted him out and down to the basement. Small, with ocean-blue eyes. Then at the oil rig, Alejandro had sent one man with Soap and Graves to the ship. Dani.

“You’re strong for your size,” said Soap in awe. Daniela had shoved him repeatedly through the hallway, even tapping the side of his face with the butt of her gun when he had begun to look over his shoulder.

She smiled wryly. “Sorry about that. We had to make it real, and we couldn’t risk any more comms than we had.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You did good,” said Soap. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Daniela shifted again. “I don’t do so well the night before big missions. I usually bunk next to Alelandro or Rodolfo, but they’re both… occupied. So, I came over here instead. To you.”

Soap’s heart melted. He was so drawn to this woman, and to know that she felt even a fraction of that bond made his heart swell with gratitude. “You can bunk with us,” he said quickly. Then, glancing around, he realized that there didn’t seem to be any available cots. “Take my cot. I can sleep in a chair.”

Daniela’s face had washed with relief when he spoke, but some tension returned as she looked down at her hands. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I’m not putting you out of your cot after the week you’ve had.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to share it with me,” teased Soap. He held his breath when Daniela’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say anything so bold, but he’d taken it and run with it. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“If I sleep on top of you, maybe,” snorted Daniela. Soap wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Daniela giggled.

Soap softened his voice, speaking more seriously. “I really don’t mind sharing.”

She contemplated for a moment, sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I crush you.”

Now it was Soap’s turn to snort. He lay down carefully, his back to Ghost’s cot, and raised his right arm. Daniela lay down beside him, turning onto her side and tucking herself under his chin. A perfect fit. Soap gently let his arm come down over her waist, laying his hand on the cot rail.

“This okay?” he whispered. She nodded. Soap nodded, too. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been close to someone like this in… well, a long time.

The 141 was his whole life. There was always work to be done, and without a family to go home to, there was no real reason to take leave. On the rare occasion he did, he just ended up in his home town in Scotland. He’d flirt, constantly, but he seldom brought anyone home. He longed for something deeper, and sex alone could never fill that void. Plus, no one wanted to commit to someone who could be gone for months at a time.

But this? To be close to someone? This was filling the void just fine. Soap had to fight the urge to pull her further back against him as her breathing evened out, her body naturally leaning more on his own. As he dozed, he was proud of himself for staying still. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming empty dreams and feeling her shift against him.

As he finally woke up the next morning, he felt his hip aching fiercely. He started to shift to take some pressure off of it, and froze. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Daniela’s wild hair. He groggily remembered that they’d shared a cot the night before. All of his pride at his self-control dissolved instantly when he realized that his arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. She must have turned over in her sleep, because her leg was thrown over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. 

He could already feel a problem, and this was not the time or place. He had to get out of this cot without waking her up. He shifted back, then froze as Daniela’s hand ran up to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his mohawk. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers pulled lightly at his hair, and her leg tightened around his hips. Soap’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed a groan. Fuck. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him sleepily.

“That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in months,” she whispered. Soap nodded, desperately trying to get his body under control before she woke up any more. To his dismay, she nuzzled closer to him, nose rubbing under his jaw and hips shifting back and forth for a moment. Her eyes snapped open, eyebrows arching. “Feels like you slept pretty well, too, eh big boy?” Hells bells, this woman. Soap barely suppressed a full body shudder as she beamed at him.

“I didn’t, I’m not, I-” he stuttered. But Daniela placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes were full of mirth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she teased. Then she languidly stretched, pressing against him as much as humanly possible before climbing out of the cot and sashaying away, tossing a wicked grin over her shoulder at him. Soap turned to Ghost’s cot, which was blessedly empty, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still fighting for his body to cooperate. Hells fucking bells.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Alejandro called his men, all sound stopped. The place became a real base in that moment. Los Vaqueros and the 141 gathered around a makeshift operations table, listening intently as Price spoke.

“This is a fight against our own. We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We’re a team. Ghost team.”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up when the Captain dumped out a bucket of masks, then his eyes snapped up to Ghost. Ghost was staring at him, and Soap was almost certain he was steeling himself. Their silent conversation lasted only a moment before Ghost reached up, pulling off his mask, pausing before reaching for one from the table. Price reached a hand up to his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” he said.

Soap carefully schooled his features in an attempt to soothe Ghost’s nerves, but he felt a distinct surge of pride in being one of the few to be allowed to know the Lieutenant. As the older man adjusted the mask over his face, the two shared another weighted look. Soap quirked up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head. Quite the opposite, indeed.

Alejandro laid out the plan to get into the Los Vaqueros facility. “We’ll infiltrate the base with two Ghost teams. Team one is Captain Price, Gaz, me, and one pilot. Team two is Ghost, Soap, Rudy, Dani, and Los Vaqueros.”

Ghost and Soap looked to each other and nodded. Then Soap turned to Daniela, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed “Dani?” 

She smirked, mouthing back “Johnny?”

Soap grinned. He looked to Ghost, who was shaking his head. But his eyes were crinkled with mirth.

“While Gaz and me locate and secure Valeria, Ghost team 2 will find Graves… and kill him.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ghost team 2 fought their way through the base to the HQ building, then fought their way through that. Soap and Ghost moved together like they’d fought together for years, and Daniela and Rodolfo effortlessly slotted themselves into their dynamic. Between the three of them, no Shadows made it more than a few steps into the open.

Watching Price’s helo go down had Soap’s stomach sinking. “Steamin’ hell!” Soap shouted. He and Ghost shared a heavy look while Daniela and Rodolfo cursed softly. Rodolfo quickly recovered, clambering up the wall with Soap’s help. Daniela followed after, lightly stepping into Soap’s linked hands before joining Rodolfo in straddling the wall. The two of them pulled Soap up quickly, who turned to Ghost.

“Ghost, you comin’?” he asked.

“No. Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this.”

Soap’s head whipped back and forth between Ghost and the other side of the wall until he saw something that made his stomach drop even more. “Look!” he shouted.

“That’s not ours!” shouted Rodolfo.

“Holy shite. Graves brought a fuckin’ tank!” growled Soap, dropping to the ground. He glanced at Rodolfo and Daniela. “You ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!” answered Rodolfo. Daniela nodded curtly. Soap motioned for the three to split up.

“Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?” came Graves’ sneering voice. “Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” grumbled Soap. He, Daniela, and Rodolfo had run into different buildings. Rodolfo tried to call out C4 stashes, Daniela threw grenades as she could, and Soap gestured for both of them to stay down and inside. Then he ran for his life.

“You and your mexicano friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish!” yelled Graves.

“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” quipped Soap. Daniela snorted, and despite the severity of the situation, Soap found himself smiling.

Graves seemed altogether less pleased. “You think this is a fucking game out here? You wanna play war? Let’s play some fucking war, chicos! One of you dipshits needs to die last. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Go fuck yourself, Graves.” Soap threw a brick of C4 straight into the tank’s path, silently congratulating himself when it blew.

“You got a healthy disrespect for authority, Soap. I like that about you!”

“You’re Shepherd’s lap dog. You get paid to break the rules.”

“There’s only two rules here, boys. Walk away… or win. Guess which one I choose?” Soap vaulted through a window. It wasn’t high, but the landing still made his hip throb in protest. He grunted softly. “Shoulda gone home when you had the chance, Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform.”

Soap’s temper instantly flared. “You wore that uniform,” he ground out. He was crouched by another C4 stash, trying to judge Graves’ location.

“That uniform was a limitation!” shouted Graves. “I shed that skin!”

“Like a fuckin’ snake,” Soap hissed.

“Like a fuckin’ soldier, son.”

“You had to make your own little army ‘cause you couldn’t hack it in the real one.” This time, Soap managed to stick the side of the tank with C4 as it passed. He ran, detonated, and silently cheered again when he heard the second explosion.

Soap managed to tune out most of the rest of what Graves said, until he turned his attention to Rodolfo. His Spanish wasn’t great, but he picked up the general idea that Graves was saying the 141 were no friends to Los Vaqueros.

“Oye, pendejo!” Daniela’s voice suddenly cut through the radio. Most of what she said was lost to Soap, but she sounded furious. He picked out the words “friends”, “assholes like you”, “good people”, and “brothers”, and “death”. Hermanos hasta la muerte.

Graves must have understood more than Soap, because his driving became erratic and he shouted back to Daniela in what Soap did recognize as poorly pronounced Spanish. 

Her distraction gave him enough time to sneak up behind the tank and lay one last brick of C4 between the tank’s body and tread. But just as he started to back off, the gun began to swing in his direction. Soap braced himself to run, and then froze. 

“Graves!” Daniela shouted. She had leapt up to stand in the window of the building directly ahead of Soap. As the tank's gun swung back in her direction, Soap scrambled to his feet, racing forward. 

“Pinche tu madre,” she sneered. 

Soap could hear the tank’s gun spinning up.

“No!” He shouted. Daniela’s head snapped in his direction. Her face fell when they locked stares, eyes flashing with anxiety. She took half a step toward him, but Soap launched himself through the window. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around Daniela’s waist, yanked her against himself, and pulled them to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder as he heard the tank fire and rolled her under him as fast as he could, tucking his head against hers and shielding them both with his arms. The building crumbled under the impact, sheetrock and dust raining down on them. Several chunks of sheetrock landed across Soap’s back. That’ll be a few new bruises.

As it began to settle, Soap raised his head just enough to look down at Daniela. They were nose to nose when she opened her eyes, hands coming up to run over his covered head. 

“Y’alright?” Soap whispered. She nodded frantically. 

“You?” He nodded. As he shifted his shoulders, bits of rubble fell off and cracked against the ground. He winced. 

He looked up and around. Graves’ tank was rotating, looking for them. He glanced to the stairs, then looked back down at Daniela. 

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Daniela cocked an eyebrow, but wrapped her arms around his neck. Soap grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, wrapping it around his waist, and she smirked before wrapping her other leg around his back as well. As serious as the situation was, their position wasn’t lost on Soap. Twice in one day? He swallowed hard. C’mon, MacTavish.

As quickly as he dared, he crawled for the stairwell. He could see Graves’ tank through the doorway on the opposite wall, facing away. In the last meter, he leapt to his feet and ran up several steps, stopping midway to lean against the wall. Daniela slid down his body, resting her hands on his chest. Soap shivered. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. 

“Gracías, guapo,” she said softly. Then her hand snapped up to her earpiece. She started down for a moment, then looked back up at Soap. “Rodolfo moved to Los Vaqueros private channel. He says there should be an RPG downstairs,” she said. 

Soap nodded, clicking through channels until he could hear Rudy’s voice. “I’ll get it,” he said.

Daniela grabbed his arm as he moved, stopping him in his tracks. “Be careful,” she said. He nodded, clasping her arm. 

“I will.”

He crept down the stairs, peeking around the wall to where he’d last seen Graves’ tank. It wasn’t there. Staying low, he rounded the corner, eyes searching frantically for the RPG.

“Check under the counter, hermano,” whispered Rodolfo. When Soap glanced up, he could barely see the other man peeking around a doorframe across the yard. He crept to the bar counter, slid open the door as quietly as possible, and grabbed the RPG inside.

“Siiick,” said Soap, raising the RPG to his shoulder. With his back to the wall, he slowly made his way to an opening, searching for Graves. Not seeing him, he stayed. And breathed. And waited.

He could hear the thing driving around outside, searching for him or the others. He just hoped they were well hidden.

His radio crackled. “He’s heading your way, Soap,” said Daniela quietly.

“Rog’,” he replied. “Stay down.”

Carefully, he crouched and turned, ready to fire as soon as the tank came into view. He didn’t have to wait long. With a deep breath, he stood, pulled the trigger, and dove behind the cabinet again. The explosion from the tank seemed to rock the very ground. He realized that he’d never detonated the last brick of C4. Double trouble, then.

Slowly, Soap stood and leaned around the corner. Graves’ tank was a ball of fire, smoke and flames billowing into the sky. He heard Daniela step down the stairs, then felt her small hand on his shoulder blade. Rudy peeked around the corner of a doorway, looking around before stepping outside. Soap and Daniela did the same, cautiously walking forward.

“You did it, Soap,” said Rodolfo softly.

“You two and me, hermano,” said Soap.

“Brought a gun to a tank fight.”

Soap chuckled, smiling under his mask. “Yeah we did!” He reached for his radio, clicking back to the main channel. “Soap to Ghost- I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay, too. Out.”

Rodolfo relayed the message to Alejandro. They all took a moment to breathe. And then they moved out to meet Ghost Team 1.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap’s head was spinning. They had all known Valeria was a wildcard, but he didn’t think any of them had expected her to drop the bomb of information that a missile was in Chicago. Not even Alejandro. Price handed her off to Los Vaqueros almost immediately, the threat in his voice clear. Soap wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t expect to ever see her alive again.

He was surprised when he had to lift Daniela up and out of the container after she lunged for Valeria. He dragged her out kicking and screaming in Spanish, all curses and threats. Rudy followed them out first, trying to calm her down, but there was nothing for it. The other woman was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of all of her family and friends. Soap couldn’t fault her rage.

Gaz came out next, raising his eyebrows at Soap in a silent question. Soap nodded, affirming that he was alright. Daniela had stopped thrashing, but her chest still rose and fell quickly against his arms. He’d had to lean back against the wall, lifting her feet off the ground to keep her from beelining to the container. Now she stood, back against his chest, hands gripping his tactical harness where it crossed his thighs.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Gaz began softly. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them. “But I do know that she’s not worth throwing your life away.”

“She stole my life!” hissed Daniela. “She took my family. She took everything from me! And now she’s doing it all again! More people will lose their lives, lose their families, if she isn’t stopped!”

“But she gave you a purpose,” said Gaz firmly. He’d stopped pacing, staring directly at Daniela now. “You’ll never let that happen to anyone ever again. We are going to stop her. And I know it’s not the same thing, but she gave you a family, too. Hell, she gave you two families. You, Alejandro, Rodolfo? Los Vaqueros? You’ll always have a family with the 141, now.”

Soap squeezed her just a bit tighter at that, his own silent affirmation. After a moment, Daniela’s hands released his harness and lay flat against his legs. She seemed to sag back against him. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Gracias, hermano.”

Gaz simply nodded before returning to the container. For several minutes, Soap and Daniela said nothing. Then, very softly, she said “You can let me go.”

“Aye? You won’t kick me in the shins and run off to kill her anyway?”

Daniela snorted at that. “No.” With one final squeeze, Soap let her go. As he did, Alejandro came storming out of the container, followed closely by Rodolfo. He moved straight for Daniela, gripping her shoulders.

“We’re going to be hunted men, Dani,” he said. “I’m not letting her get away with this. Rodolfo and I will handle her, and we’ll handle the cartel. But you…” He looked up at Soap, then back at Daniela. He pointed to Soap with one finger. “You need to go with them. I don’t want you to be a part of this.”

“Alejandro, no, soy-”

“No,” he growled. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Soap realized when he looked at Daniela again that he was tearing up. He lowered his head to her level, staring at her intently. “What did I tell you the night we found you?”

Rodolfo had turned his head away, shoulders stiff. Soap couldn’t see her face, but he could hear in her voice that Daniela was tearing up, too. “You told me you would always protect me,” she whimpered.

Alejandro shook her gently. “This is me protecting you, hermana.” He pointed to Soap. “That man will protect you with his life. You told me so yourself. Rodolfo told me.” He glanced back to Soap, who nodded, stunned. “And I can see it when I look at him, and the way he looks at you. You have to go with them. You have to get that missile, and you have to stay out of Mexico until this dies down. And then you know we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Rodolfo turned, reaching out a hand to hold Daniela’s. “This has always been our fight, mijá,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be yours. And I know you chose it, but this time… just let us do this for you. Sabes que te amamos.”

Price and Gaz had come out of the container again, Price holding Valeria. They both nodded to Soap, who nodded to Daniela when she looked over to him. Her gaze dropped, and then she looked back to her men.

“Yo sé que tú,” she whispered.

Alejandro moved to Soap while Rodolfo hugged Daniela.

“Go. You have work to do,” he said. Then he pulled Soap closer, and softly said “Take care of her.”“You know I will,” whispered Soap. He backed toward their plane. “Keep fighting the good fight, hermano!” he called.“To the bitter end, my brother!” said Alejandro.

“Good luck, amigos,” said Rodolfo.

Price shoved Valeria into the backseat of Alejandro and Rodolfo’s vehicle while Soap, Ghost, and Daniela moved to board the aircraft Gaz had already started up.

“Ghost!” called Alejandro. Ghost turned back, cocking his head slightly. “No te pierdas, hermano!”

Whatever Ghost said back, Soap didn’t understand. But Daniela smiled, blowing a kiss with two fingers that Alejandro caught out of midair and held to his heart. Then they turned, boarded the plane, and were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap had long since abandoned his fear of heights. Walking down a 60-story building didn’t make him nervous, but the hostage situation did. Ghost’s calm helped him keep his cool, though, and soon enough, Daniela was getting hostages out of the building while Soap and Price moved on Hassan. They cleared entire floors of the building in record times.

“And that’s why they call him Soap,” mumbled Ghost. Daniela’s answering giggle warmed Soap’s heart. Upon hearing this, Ghost added “Did you know he’s the youngest one of us? Got in with the SAS at sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Soap, you get more and more impressive the more I learn about you!”

Soap’s face flamed.

Despite the hostages, the mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Then, Laswell announced that Hassan had the controls. Ghost confirmed visual on floor 46, and back out they went.

“Soap, we find those controls, it’s up to you to disarm that missile.”

“Copy that… done it once before.”

The RPG could have ruined the whole plan, but Soap and Price were both lucky that it missed them. They moved into the building as quickly as possible, clearing yet another room in record time with Ghost’s sniper support.

When Gaz called that they had the target cornered, Soap and Price raced in his direction. Then came Laswell saying that the missile was launching. Everyone was speaking at once.

“No, no, no!” screamed Price. 

“Fecking hell,” growled Soap.

“Watcher, where’s the target?” yelled Price.

“Unknown, we’re working on it.”

“Copy. We’re going for Hassan. This way Sergeant!” he yelled to Soap. Then, “Gaz, where’s Hassan?”

Price and Soap were rounding the corner when Gaz answered. “End of the hall! Hassan’s holed up behind those doors.”

Price’s response was furious. “Let’s clear this out and bag him, then.”

When they got the snake cam under the door, the whole thing went to shit. 

The door blew. Soap and Price flew back and Gaz collapsed like a bag of rocks. Soap’s ears were ringing, he was bleeding, and he could hardly breathe. Only Gaz’s quick recovery saved his life. He was dragged into cover before Price took a bullet and Gaz went back for him, too.

Everything after was a blur. One moment, Soap was leaping down a falling elevator shaft. The next, he was running from the man he stole the laptop from. Then hiding. Then detonating the missile with Laswell’s help. Then, running for his life, again. 

“Nicely done, Johnny. Now for the hard part,” said Ghost.

“That was the fuckin’ hard part, LT.”

“Let’s find out. You need to stay alive, take out the guards, and kill Hassan.”

Soap looked around frantically. “I just need a weapon,” he said.

“Make one,” Ghost replied. He sounded so nonchalant. It made Soap huff out a laugh.

“Aye. Like old times, huh LT?”

Ghost’s voice was fond when he said “Seems like yesterday.”

Soap replied with equal fondness. “It was yesterday.”

He hid. He ran. With Ghost’s help, he fashioned some makeshift weapons. Then he ran headlong into Hassan. Before he could react, his world went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Soap came to, he was being dragged by his foot. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he recognized the office he’d been chasing Hassan through.

Hassan. It was Hassan dragging him along.

Sluggishly, his mind went through his team. Ghost. Overwatch. Price. Holed up trying to recover. Gaz. Unknown. Daniela.

Daniela.

Alejandro had sent her with him and he didn’t even know where she was, whether she was safe. His heart twinged painfully. He didn’t have time to think, though. Hassan was yelling about fire and thinking they could stop him. Soap couldn’t focus on it.

Ghost.

“Ghost,” he whispered into his throat mic.

“Soap!”

“Watch… the window,” he managed.

Something exploded.

Hassan dragged him to his feet. Still going on about invading, not attacking.

He thrust Soap in front of him, pushing him toward the window. Soap desperately tried to keep his footing.

“Soap,” said Ghost. Soap vaguely recognized panic in his voice. “Soap, I see him, but I can’t-”

“Take the shot, LT,” mumbled Soap.

“What was that? What are you saying?” Hassan had him by his vest now, shaking him violently. 

“Soap, I can’t get a clear-”

“Take. The shot.” Soap’s jaw was clenched. It took all of his power to hold onto Hassan’s wrists enough not to fall back. Hassan was still pushing forward, shouting, and Soap was fighting a losing battle. Hassan was going to push him out of the window.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry,” said Ghost.

Then, just as Soap’s heels touched the ledge, searing pain shot through his chest. He lurched forward with the impact, falling into Hassan.

Hassan’s eyes were wide. Soap thought he saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His rattled brain couldn’t make sense of it as they both fell to the ground.

“Johnny, MOVE!” roared Ghost. With the last of his energy, Soap shoved as hard as he could, rolling off of Hassan’s body. Another piercing shot rang out and Hassan’s head cracked backward against the ground. 

Soap blinked at Hassan’s body. Ghost was shouting for him through his earpiece. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

“You shot me,” he said dumbly to Ghost.

“Oh thank God,” muttered Ghost. He could hear Daniela shrieking in the background, too.

“You saved me,” he said. The whole room seemed colorful and soft. Spinning. Like a carousel.

Soap smiled, head lolling down.

He could vaguely hear Ghost and Daniela and Gaz yelling, but he was too tired to listen. Just a wee nap. That’s all I need.

Footsteps pounded nearby. With great effort, Soap turned his head. It didn’t hold where he wanted it to, just flopped onto the ground on the other side. He watched a small black pair of boots race across the floor toward him.

“No no no no, hijo de puta. Por favor, Dios, no.” Suddenly, Soap’s head and shoulders were being lifted. Then he was dragged back against something soft. He looked up. Daniela was running her hands over his head, his chest, clawing at his tactical vest. “Por favor, Dios, no,” she repeated. Her voice shook as badly as her hands and tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” Soap said. He grinned up at her. “Whassa matter? Why’re you crying?”

He reached a hand up to her, wiping her cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t keep it raised and it flopped back to his side.

“John Soap MacTavish, you’d better not die on me,” she muttered. She had gotten his vest loose and was pulling his shirt up roughly. 

“Hey, bonnie, at least buy me dinner first,” he slurred. He chuckled. It was silly. It was all so silly. He could hear Ghost yelling faintly, but he wasn’t sure why. Daniela was leaning heavily on his chest, and he wasn’t sure about that either.

Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been sat out in snow for a good few hours. “Hey, are you cold?” he asked Daniela.

“Hey,” Daniela said sharply. She gripped his chin between her fingers. “Look at me.”

Clarity hit Soap like a ton of bricks. He’d been shot. He was bleeding. Cold from shock. That’s why Daniela was crying and Ghost was yelling. He’d been knocked out. Likely had a concussion. He looked up at her solemnly, grabbing her wrist with his hand. Don’t die on me, she’d said. He was dying.

They’d talked quite a bit over their few days together. Talked about their hopes and dreams, and how those fit into their dangerous lives. Talked about their dedication to their teams, their values, their futures. Talked about growing up, their families, how they’d gotten there. 

She’d asked him if he’d ever been in love.

He’d said he hadn’t. But he wasn’t so sure that was true, any more.

When he’d asked her, she’d said “maybe” with a sly smile his direction, all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

He blinked, hard. He wanted to know what that meant.

“What did you mean… when you said maybe?” he panted out.

For a moment, Daniela just blinked at him. Then her eyes softened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she understood his question. “I meant I might be,” she whispered. “I’m not quite sure yet. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out.”

Soap hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I’m pretty sure,” he breathed. Daniela gasped, but he reached up to touch her cheek before she could say anything. “You,” he began, voice a whisper. “You are the most… the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman that… that I’ve ever-”

Daniela didn’t let him finish. Her lips were on his before he knew it. He was kissing her before even registering that she’d leaned down. Her lips were soft, just like he’d imagined. She tasted like strawberries and mint and salt. Tears. She kissed him desperately, and he kissed her desperately back. His hand slid back to tangle in her curls. So unbelievably soft.  He could hardly move his head, but she tilted her own to deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he moaned, low in his chest. He weakly tried to pull her closer. No point hiding it now. Besides, if he was going to die, what better way to go? More footsteps pounded in the door. He could vaguely make out Gaz and Price’s voices.

And then, above them all, nearly a full octave up in his panic, Ghost. “Johnny!”

Daniela’s teeth lightly grazed his lip. Soap sighed, then everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap woke to a gentle beeping. His head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His body felt like one big bruise, but with shards of glass sprinkled throughout it. He couldn’t open his eyes. There was light pressure against his right hip.

He breathed deeply. Ouch.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in through a window out of the corner of his eye. He could see that the ceiling was bright white.

“Johnny?”

Slowly, he turned his head toward the familiar voice. As he did, Ghost rose to his feet from his chair, taking two quick steps to the bedside.

Soap opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ghost scrambled to pour a cup of water, then gently helped Soap lift his head to drink. As he did, Soap realized what the pressure on his hip was. Daniela.

Her head lay at the junction of his torso and legs, black curls shining in the moonlight. The bags under her eyes were nearly as dark as Ghost’s grease paint. Her right hand gripped his thigh, and her left hand held his. She didn’t stir.

Soap swallowed several times. “What happened?” he finally asked.

Ghost’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you want the short or long story?” he asked. His voice sounded exhausted.

“How about the short one, for now?”

“I shot you,” said Ghost. For a moment, Soap thought he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, Ghost looked up to meet his eyes. “I shot you, Johnny. Because you told me to. Because you’re the best of us, and you’re clever.”

Soap nodded, eyes drifting shut, not processing Ghost’s words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good shot,” Ghost added, grumbling.

Soap chuckled softly, wincing as he did. “That I am,” he said. “Hassan?”

“I shot him, too. Twice, actually.”

“Through me the first time, eh LT?”

Ghost looked unamused. But when Soap grinned at him, his eyes softened. “That’s right, Johnny.”

“Perfect shot, LT.”“You called it, Sargeant.”

“The best of us, huh LT?”

“Can it, Sergeant.”

For a moment, the two shared a companionable silence. Then, Ghost spoke so softly that Soap thought he may have imagined it. “I almost didn’t take it.”

“The shot? Why not?”

“There was no shot. He had you directly in front of him, and he would have thrown you out that window before I had time to move.”

“You still got him, LT. I’ll call that a win.”“We got him, Johnny.”

“I’m starting to think you really have taken a shine to me, Simon.”

Ghost hung his head before looking back up. “Maybe I have.” He turned, picking up his chair, and sat it right by the bed as quietly as he could. “That one has, for sure.” He nodded to Daniela.

Soap looked down at her. “How long have you both been here?”

“Since you got here,” Ghost mumbled. Soap’s head snapped back to him.

“And when was that?”

Ghost shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Four days, give or take.” Soap stared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands. “You, Sergeant, should have died.”

He lifted one gloved hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “You have a field-treated gunshot wound to your right arm, which was in fact infected. Thank your lucky stars that Daniela saw through your idiocy.” That explained a lot of little things he’d missed. Like a passenger in a getaway vehicle. “A bruised bone in your hip. Three cracked ribs. A grade four concussion. Multiple hairline fractures in your legs. And a shredded left pec from a 50 caliber bullet. Might I add that last one only missed your heart by centimeters?”

Soap snorted. “Well, that explains a lot about how I feel. Hell, how I’ve been feeling.”

Ghost just shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thought we lost ya. Again.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, LT.”

“Good,” grumbled Ghost. He looked toward Daniela. “I had to pry her off of you,” he said softly. 

Soap looked down at her again. She looked younger than before, peaceful in her slumber. But he could see the exhaustion plainly on her face. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” murmured Ghost. “Could hardly get her across the hall to shower.”

Soap let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion washing over him all over again. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Amsterdam. Laswell has friends here. We’re in a private hospital.”

“Price? And Gaz?”

“They’re trying to find a lead on Shepherd.”

Soap nodded sleepily, relieved that their squad was still intact. “She kissed me,” he murmured. 

“Doctors say she saved your life with that.”

Soap hummed, cracking one eye open to peer at Ghost. He shrugged. 

“Something about the adrenaline helping to push off the shock.”

Soap hummed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Sleep, Johnny.”

He did. 

When he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. He shifted slightly, and felt Daniela spring up when he did. 

When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him anxiously. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Soap murmured. 

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She squeezed his thigh, standing and reaching her hand up to cup his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached up a hand to hold hers against his cheek. “I’m right here.”

She shifted a leg up onto the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered again. “Ghost said you saved my life.”

She made a strangled sound, half laugh and half sob. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Soap shifted his hand to her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well,” he said. “If you remember, I was a bit out of my mind.” He tilted her chin up gently, whispering “Care to give me another taste of those lifesaving powers of yours?”

Daniela lunged forward, sealing her lips to his. Soap eyes slid shut as he grinned, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he ran his tongue against hers. When she whimpered into his mouth, the primal need to have her close overcame him. He leaned up as far as he could, cursing the sling on his left shoulder, chasing her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her against him. She straddled him carefully, elbows coming to rest above his shoulders. 

Her whole body shuddered when his hand came to rest on her hip.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she cut him off, panting. She reached one hand up, threading her fingers through his mohawk. “There’s no reason.” Soap groaned when her nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“Woman, the things I would do to you if I wasn’t stuck in this bed…”

She shuddered again before she leaned down and kissed the place that his jaw and neck met. His whole body involuntarily arched off the bed, hand moving from her hip to the small of her back to pull her against him. She gasped at the contact. However light she was, her weight on his hip hurt. But he was too far gone to care. He leaned up again, gently sucking her lip between his as she sighed into his mouth.

His mind was clouded with the desire for intimacy with her. He wanted all of her. First in their single shared night, and now in their kiss, Soap saw waking up to her every morning, cooking together, trips to the stormy Scottish coast and the sunny Caribbean. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, and he knew from the way she looked at him that she’d been drawn to him just as much. He’d tried so hard to remain professional. To keep distance. To be a gentleman. To pretend he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he heard her speak.

Then she’d slept in his cot and he’d had to know what it was like to have her in his arms. Having tasted her once, there was no going back to professional and distant. Having tasted her twice? She owned him. There was no pretending, now.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp cough from the doorway. Daniela sprang up, scrambling off the bed with one hand covering her mouth. Soap’s head whipped toward the door. Ghost was there, finding something very interesting to look at in the ceiling, along with a pretty nurse who was smiling widely.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” she quipped. Soap grinned wryly first at her, then at Daniela. “My name’s Cat, I’m a friend of Kate’s. Mind if I take a look at you?”

Soap nodded, Daniela sat herself in the corner, and Ghost continued to pay close attention to the ceiling and walls. Soap narrowed his eyes, watching the Lieutenant closely. 

Cat turned to Daniela and Ghost. “Would you two-”

“They can stay,” Soap cut her off. Cat turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled. “Nothing they haven’t seen already.” When she helped him sit up and lift his gown off, Soap got his first real look at the damage. At Los Vaqueros safe house, and then later at their base, he’d been too rushed and too tired to really look at himself.

Purple bruises so dark they nearly looked black covered his ribs. Just above his boxers, he could see more bruising on his hip that was nearly green now. Scrapes and cuts covered his knees, his arms, his sides. The bullet wound in his right arm was healing nicely, but the skin around it was still pink and tender. He was grateful that his chest was wrapped tightly so he couldn’t see the damage from Ghost’s sniper.

Soap looked away.

“So Cat,” he asked. “How did you meet Laswell?”

“Oh, she and I met probably fifteen years ago. She was still on the field, back then. I was still in training, working in a field hospital. I patched her and John up after a rough mission. I guess she decided she liked me, because as soon as I graduated, she snapped me right up.” She turned to Ghost, who had finally looked her way, and smiled. “Good thing, too. I’ve fixed this one up more times than I can count, and Kate tells me he won’t let anyone else touch him.”

Ghost looked away again so quickly that he missed Soap’s gleeful expression. “Oh, is that so?” teased Soap. Ghost shot him a warning glare. Something to ask about later.

“I trust her,” muttered Ghost.

Cat beamed at him. She looked back to Soap, smiling conspiratorially. “Quite the compliment, eh?”

“That it is,” he answered smugly. Ghost held his stare, unamused. Soap looked back toward Daniela, eyes softening. She smiled back at him, looking tired but content. Cat was wrapping up her check, talking about physical therapy and taking it easy. Soap couldn’t wait to have a moment with Daniela again.

“Alright, well I’ll be back tonight to check in with you again. Simon, would you walk me out?” Soap’s eyes shot back to Ghost at that, but Ghost refused to meet his gaze. Definitely something to ask about later.

When Cat and Ghost had gone, Daniela came back to Soap’s side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently took his left hand, careful not to lift it or otherwise disturb the bandages.

“Take all the time you need,” Soap said softly. Daniela lifted her eyes from their joined hands, cocking her head. He held her gaze. “You said I’d have to give you some time to figure it out. Take all the time you need.” Now it was Soap’s turn to look down at their hands. He grinned, lopsided. “I’ll be here.”

Daniela reached out, lifting his chin with her fingertips. Her dark eyes watered slightly around the edges. “I’m pretty sure,” she whispered.

“Oh, now that sounds familiar,” chuckled Soap. He leaned toward her, eyes flitting down to her lips. “C’mere, you.”

Their first kiss had been desperate. Their second quickly turned heated. This one was soft, slow, gentle. Exploratory and sweet. Soap stroked her cheek, looking up at her from under hooded eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too,” he whispered.

Daniela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “I feel it.”

“Yeah? Not just ‘maybe’?”

Daniela smiled wide, smacking his shoulder lightly. Soap laughed, loud and full, and immediately regretted it. Wincing, he smiled back at her. 

He was anxious to hear from Price and Gaz, and nervous about what would happen when Alejandro and Rodolfo called Daniela back. They’d have to go after Shepherd, and she might have to go back to Mexico. Maybe nothing would ever truly have a chance to start with them. Maybe they’d die. But maybe not. Maybe everything would be alright.

[thesun4ndthestar]

•Selfishness•

When Regulus had turned 17, he had gotten the mark. He fought with James for weeks because of it, they never broke up though.

Regulus was 17, about to be 18 when he found himself in that dark cave.

James was 19 when he learned about his lover’s death through a letter.

Hi James, i’m sorry but by the time you’ll read this, i will probably be dead.

I was a coward, during all my life, and you can’t deny it. I was a coward for leaving you, I was a coward for leaving Sirius, I was a coward for letting them take me and give me the dark mark. I am really sorry James, but I knew I could never live with the feeling of loosing you, so I will be the one to die; and I know that makes me selfish as fuck. I’ve always been selfish and I never knew how to not be.

You taught me a lot of things Potter, but everyone, after a long time not practicing, forgets them. And so did I, I forgot how to do what you teached me. I forgot how to love others, I forgot how to love myself, but most importantly I forgot how to breathe. I always felt like suffocating before you came into my life, I never knew how to properly breathe before you taught me, James. But now I am slowly forgetting, and that’s why I’ll die in the deepest waters of the cave. Ironic, isn’t it?

My tears are now ruining this paper, but i hope you’ll be able to understand it, as you always did with me.

By this point you may think that I am killing myself only for the fear of facing your death, but that’s not quite right. I wrote a letter, to the Dark Lord, where I tell him how I ruined his plan, but my love I can’t tell you what I did, I really want to but, it will only make this war worse.

I am sorry my love, I couldn’t give you what you deserved, but please don’t cry. It’s not like i never told you that, with me, you would have never been able to achieve happiness, but you decided to go against my will (and i will never thank you enough for doing it) and you fell for me anyway.

I want to ask you one thing, and I beg you to do it. Please never show this letter to ANYONE, at least until the war is still going. It’s a matter of life or death, and I would prefer for you to live and don’t have a fate like mine.

Goodbye James, I hope to see you in the afterworld, not too soon though, for this time I won’t be selfish and I will wish for you the greatest and longest life. Please don’t die too soon…

Yours and only yours

R.A.B.

Years had passed after Regulus’ death; James was now 20.

He was happy now: he had a wife, all of his best friends and a child.

Although, he still felt like something, or rather someone, was missing.

After the Slytherin’s death James never really loved anyone anymore. Sure, he was married to Lily now, but what people couldn’t know, was that James still wished for Regulus to come back.

That’s why, some months after the Gryffindor’s 21st birthday, on the fateful night of October 31st, James died with a smile and tears streaming down his face. He didn’t keep his promise of having a long life, but he wanted to be selfish too for once and reunite with whom he truly belonged with.

[slay00ryu]

Over And Over Again.

Ronin x reader, angst, let's bring Ronin pain :p

Trigger warning: suicide, spoilers for KC and maybe Gluttony Gods.

Ronin for the longest time knew that looking for Ther in you was pointless, you were two different people and he wanted to let you be your own person, even if sometimes he caught himself looking at you as if you were them. He loved you for being yourself, even if his version was fucked up and destructive in a way, he wanted to free you, free you of whatever was troubling you.

Yet, nowadays the lines between you and Ther became blurry, you were colder, you looked and acted differently. Ronin started to notice how your mental health began to worsen, how you would avoid eating, how you cared so much about your reputation you were willing to try to kick him out of your life, just to pull him back, crying about how tired you were. He saw it all, still he thought that his help was enough, that the love he gave you, the change he brought you, it would be enough to turn you back into yourself.

One night, when you were staying at Ronin's house, he woke up in the middle of the night. You weren't there. It made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable. He had this voice in his head, a voice he desperately tried to push away.

What if you're trying to leave him just like Ther did?

He pushed these thoughts away, but with every room he checked the voice grew louder. You weren't anywhere in his house, not even outside of it. His hands were shaking.

"Where the fuck are you Y/N?" He murmured to himself, sitting by his desk. He could track your phone, that was what he was doing. Searching for your phone, desperately hoping that you had it with you.

He located it. He clenched his hands in fists when he saw what kind of place you were in. A church. An old church that wasn't used in ages. His stomach twisted and his heart rate paced up. It's just a coincidence, you just felt adventurous. Yeah, that has to be it, there's no way he will find you...

He stepped into the church, it was in a worse state than he imagined. Broken and devastated furniture, graffiti everywhere, only the altar seemed somewhat clean. That altar... It was pulling Ronin towards itself, he was in a trance.

His mind was racing with thoughts, worries and fear. His body felt weak, his legs didn't want to move any closer. But it was too late.

In the middle of the altar, your body was laying on the floor, you looked like you were asleep, only with your neck cut open and a knife in your hand. You chose to slit your throat open, to kill yourself by choking on your own blood. It must've been a beautiful yet painful death.

Ronin immediately knelt next to your body, taking it in his arms, holding onto it desperately. "Fuck, fuck why. Y/N. Why the fuck would you do this!?" He was shouting, his hold on your body was so tight he could break your bones if he wasn't careful. He was crying, laughing, screaming. He wasn't sure of what he was supposed to do now, with you dead in his arms. So he begged, begged that you opened your eyes and said that it was just a nightmare.

If only this could be a dream.

"Ro..." Angel whispered as she hugged Ronin from behind. They were standing behind the church, a freshly buried grave in front of them.

You are in that grave.

Ronin looked at the dirt, clenching his hand around a heart, your heart.

"I promised you, didn't I? Your heart will be mine forever." He tried to ignore the burning feelings in his heart. The feeling of guilt.

He wasn't guilty about your death.

No, he was devastated that you slipped from his grasp and stripped him of his control.

"Ronin... Are... How... You don't have to pretend to be taught here." Angel tried her best to comfort him, but it was hard when she also lost a friend whose heart was in her best friend's hand.

"What do you expect me to say Maria? That I fucking feel bad because I wasn't holding them? I wasn't holding their body Angel, I was fucking holding Ther!"

That was the centre of his guilt. The fact that he didn't see you, he saw Ther. He felt like he was replaying their death in his mind, replaying his actions.

"And now? They're probably laughing at me, both of them. Seeing how pathetic I fucking am, forever bound to Ther."

First, the Devil lost his Lilith, now he lost an Eve. Both haunting him in his nightmares and the shadows of his mind.

[emtornado]

RUNNING THOUGHTS FROM EP 12 of WHEN THE PHONE RINGS

• Wtf do you mean he disappeared

• nooooooo my poor bb heejoo :(

• I’m so glad miss MIL is in jail/dying

• oh so he IS alive he’s just in touch in in-ha for some god forsaken reason bloody hell

• what in the flying fuck is argan

• did they. Did they just. CREATE A COUNTRY.

• LMAO BRO SAID FUCK YALL IMMA FIND MY HUSBAND EVEN IF HE IS IN SOME RANDOM FICTIONAL WAR COUNTRY

• ‘my husband likes sunsets so idc imma go and watch it even if i die 🎀’

• respectfully what the fuck is happening did she just get captured bbgirl 😭😭😭😭😭

• Yo she matches his freak so well he just kidnapped her and I BET she will be okay with it

• it HAS to be him cmon

• ITS HIM ITS HIM ITS HIM YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY I KNEW IT

• MOTHERFUCKER IS WEARING HIS RING YES AS YOU SHOULD YOU WHIPPED MF

• ‘let them fall apart, I’ll ruin everything’ hee joo take my heart would and everything else i love you

• I swear to all that’s holy that if ‘my father killed your brother and that’s the reason you were mute’ is the reason why bro decided to yeet himself I will find a way into argan myself to give him a slap

• fuck this shit.

• you have GOT to be kidding me.

• this is quite literally the dumbest shite ever.

• like okay. He feels guilt. I can understand that. But sir please braincells 😭😭😭😭😭😭

• ‘Is that why you left me? Because you felt bad’ MY EXACT THOUGHT BBGIRL YOUR HUSBAND IS DUMB

• punishment. Bro someone introduce this man to bdsm I feel like he would benefit from it. And therapy. Also therapy. So much therapy.

• reinstating my belief that even when men are cutie lil husbands who love their wives, they’re still fools <3

• hee joo is so forgiving and understanding cuz if a man did this with me id go psycho on him on the fucking spot

• STOP HOLDING BACK BE HAPPY FOR GHE LOVE OF GOD GOOD LORD YOU DUMBASSES

• wow steam 👀

• wow divorce

• he deserves to be his own name amen

• OH MY GODS THEIR PICTURES ARE ADORABLEEEEEEEEE I LOVE THIS

• I love mr kang.

• I love them all.

• SHE HAS A RING AWWWWW YAYYYYY

• welcome baek yu-yeon we are glad to meet you xx

• he’s a cringe in love this is beautiful <3

• let him open a restaurant please

• I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA GET MARRIED SLAY YOU-RI AND SANG-WOO

• I LOVE HOW MR KANG TOLD SANG WOO TO CALL HIM FOR MARRIED LIFE ADVICE HAJAJAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

• just our best babies surrounded by the people who love them/the people they love

• bye bro finally happiness

• OMG ITS FISH PLACE UNCLE DHDKSHSJSJSNSK YAY

• ykw I like chairman hong he truly just wants her happy (yes ik he enabled her mutism before but shush pls)

• omg mother is being nice all hail

• I’m so thankful that in-a is apologising as well hee joo deserves all the apologies and love she’s always craved 😭😭

• OUR BABIES HAVW GROWN UP FROM THE EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED DUMBASSES THEY WERE IN EPISODE ONE

• The separation anxiety between these two is real

• I love love love how he’s still calling her 406

• happy endings for the fucking win yall <3

Thank you for joining me. See you soon byeeeeee

[pinkarsonist0]

Idea for a Hazbin Hotel rewrite:

BTW I renamed Vaggie to Valena, with Valli or Vana as her nickname in this, I actually have a few name ideas for her. First 2 are not mine.

Vannie

Vega

Valley ( I feel like if it wasn't a word, it could work as a name)

Vinnie

Vanna (Actually considering making this her actual name)

Vassie

I was actually gonna renamed her to Valine but 1. It sounded too much like Vaseline, 2. It's the name of an amino acid. It's better than naming someone after a private part, but I still think we should give her an actual name. Besides, googling the meaning of the name Valina made me switch it this, because it means strong and healthy. This suits Valena a lot imo

Here's her when she was an exorcist

Hated how the exorcists looked like an army for hell instead of heaven, so I made her exorcist design look more angelic. Also made her a knight because lady knights are rad.

In this mini rewrite, Valena is still a fallen angel. However, she still died.

I was scrolling through the hh critical tag and saw someone point out how Molly not being involved in the Mafia thing along with her father and brothers would make a little sense, because children in the Mafia are raised to be in the Mafia as well. However, Molly was sent to Heaven because she fought for good while in the Mafia. And after reading that I got the idea to rewrite Vaggie. Sadly I cannot find the og post.

Carmilla Carmine was her mother in human life, Carmilla was an assassin alongside her husband before he died while on a mission. Odette and Clara could not join the gang due to them not being old enough. However, they still helped their mother with her job in any way they could.

However, Valena was the only one directly involved. Valena instead fought for good and used her gang background to defend those in need.

All was fine, until Carmilla died due to a fight with a rival assissan group. Now, Valena had to support her sisters. In order to support her sisters, she entered prostitution and completely cut ties with her parents gang, it wasn't what she wanted, but it got her sisters food on the table.

Valena thought leaving the gang would be the end of everything, but the gang took this as a sign of betrayal and raided her home. Valena fights back in order to defend herself and her sisters, but she fails, and the gang takes her and her sisters lives.

Valena dies at the age of 30, protecting her sisters and is sent to Heaven.

However, even in death, Valena wanted to continue fighting evil. So, with enough training she was able to become an exorcist.

She spent years killing sinners alongside her fellow exorcist sisters. (In this rewrite I feel like it makes more sense to make Angels and the MorningStars the only people who have the ability to kill sinners) She felt as if she was still doing something good, she was continuing her legacy even in death.

But this takes a turn one extermination.

Flying high with her exorcist sisters, she spots three female sinners among the crowd.

Filled with pride, she offers to take care of them alone.

Angelic sword ready, she corners the three sinners.

Just when she is about to make her attack, she recognizes the sinners' features.

The sinners she was about to kill were her mother and sisters.

Valena knew her family wasn't perfect. She knew her mother wasn't the best person. But she can't help but feel shocked seeing them, let alone in Hell.

They were SINNERS.

She had been killing them for years. They had bad things in life, she was supposed to punish them!

Then why can't she make her attack?

Valena tries to fight the feeling, but seeing her mother and sisters is gluing her feet to the bloodied ground.

But, Valena isn't the only one who recognized them.

Carmilla and sisters know it's Valena.

With a shaky breath, Valena tells them to go. She couldn't stand seeing them now. Too painful to even look them in the eye. God was she pathetic...

Odette and Clara flee.

Yet Carmilla stood in front of her.

Expecting her mother to fight for trying to kill her and her daughters, she readies her weapon with shaking hands.

Instead, Carmilla isn't mad. She wants her daughter back.

In desperation, Carmilla tries to get her daughter back. Carmilla tries convincing Valena to come back to her and become a family again.

Unfortunately, Valena can't accept her mother's offer and tells Carmilla to flee.

Carmilla has no choice but to listen.

And Valena has no choice but to lose her family again.

Almost forgetting her surroundings, she feels someone pull on her arm from her behind with such force she thought her arm would be gone. Only to have Lute stare back at her.

Dialogue time yay :3

L: "What did you just do?! Go after them!"

V: "I-I can't-"

L: "Fine, you can't, then I will..."

Without saying another word, Lute flies away to track down Carmilla and her daughters.

Valena looks around, the extermination isn't over yet.

In a panic, Valena flies after Lute in hopes of protecting her family from Lute.

As Lute is searching, Valena knocks her down midair.

Dialogue time again:

L: "What's the matter with you?!"

V: "You can't kill those sinners, they're my family-!"

L: "Sinners are NOT your family, they stopped being your family once they were sent to Hell. If you can't wrap your head around that I'm afraid you won't be seeing Heaven anymore..."

V: "Go after some other sinners, just...Just leave them alone, please..."

L: "You said you wanted to fight against evil, what happened to that?"

Valena stays silent, but still refuses to go after them.

With one last glare, Lute pushes Valena to the ground and ripes out her wings.

Not only that, but Lute takes Valena's eye as a reminder of how she turned a blind eye to a sinner.

Lute flies away after another extermination, leaving Valena bleeding out and one-eyed.

At this point, Valena accepts her fate. She's nothing now.

No family.

No home.

No respect.

No friends.

Nothing.

So, Valena lays there in her own blood, hoping some cannibal will make her dinner.

But no, instead, the sinners that find her aren't cannibals looking for a meal.

But Odette, Clara and Carmilla.

Despite everything, her family came back to her.

Despite trying to kill them, they come for her...

Turns out, after the extermination, Odette claims to spot Valena. Her suspicion is only confirmed when they get closer.

Heartbroken to see her daughter like this, Carmilla can't help but try convincing Valena to come back to them. She wants her daughter back, even after spending years in Heaven killing sinners, she wants her baby girl back.

But Valena can't see what Carmilla sees. To Valena, she is undeserving of her getting her mother and sisters back. She doesn't deserve them back after everything she's done, for God's sake she tried killing them! If she hadn't recognized them, she would have killed them.

Filled with shame, Valena flees.

Carmilla can only stand with her girls and watch, accepting she just lost a daughter. Something she swore she'd never go through again.

Here's her post-exorcist design

I imagine winners keep their human appearance even in death, but I imagine in this rewrite, winners who become fallen angels lose their human appearance. Valena hair turns white, and her skin becomes gray. Valena still grows her wings back, but instead of angel wings, her wings come back as a moth. To symbolize her becoming one with hell and not feeling ashamed of her decision to not kill her mother and sisters.

Valena still ends up in the hotel and still ends up dating Charlie. I never liked the whole "mean lesbian who hates men" Trope, it just felt like an awful stereotype. She no longer hates men, but doesn't feel comfortable being alone with them due to her becoming a prostitute. She's still rough around the edges, grumpy and protective of her loved ones. I like to think she spends her days alone in the hotel library in her own space Charlie made for her. (Kind of like Amity Blight)

A lot people have been saying they dislike how it seems like Vaggie supports Charlie's idea not because she herself likes it but because it is CHARLIE'S idea. So I decided to fix that.

Valena supports Charlie's idea because she wants her mother and sisters to be redeemed. When Valena was still alive, Valena knew Carmilla never wanted to do what she did, but she pushed through in order to support her daughters. She was never proud of what she did. She made that clear. Valena knew her mother would want a second chance. She knew her mother and sisters would want a safer place to stay even in death. Even if she can't be right there with them, the least she can do is try indirectly helping them.

That's all I have for now, I'm getting really invested right now honestly. Having a fallen angel character would have been really cool, just wish it was written better within the show.

[skyheld]

"You can't blame yourself." from asharen to ameridan

ASKBOX MEME 059 / ARCANE S02E07-09 | selectively accepting | @mercysought

It's the second time he leaves a place where he was meant to die.

Stands up on shaking legs, brushes the dust of time off his clothes and picks through the remains of his old life for things he needs to keep. There isn't much left, now. He gave most things away when he joined clan Lavellan, to the few friends he has made in the last ten years, or to the clan itself. He had no need or interest then in riches or treasure. Only a few keepsakes.

Some people watch as he comes out of the aravel. The last few weeks as his strength waned he left is more and more rarely, and while many come to visit him, there are some faces he hasn't seen in all that time --- faces of those he was never close to, or who felt too uncomfortable to sit in a room with a dying person, seeing the way life left him a little bit more each week. When he steps out now with a small pack slung over his shoulder and the staff in his hand, he stands straighter than they've ever seen him. There's strength in his legs, carrying him down the landing, and in the hand that holds his staff. His eyes are unclouded, his lungs draw deep the air of the forest around them. But he doesn't look at those faces, even the ones he loved most dearly. He's afraid they'll turn away.

And anyway, how can he ask for them to look at him? How can he deserve a heartfelt farewell from these people when he failed them so utterly? They took him in so he would be safe, so he would know peace. He risked their lives, allowing a demon to possess him. He brought them war.

Thanks to that they live, but he isn't sure that matters.

"I do not blame myself", he tells Asharen as they meet below the aravel's deck. She sees through him, of course, sees the guilt clawing at him from the inside, but it isn't blame. "I did what I did to save them. Now I live with the consequences. I just wish... I wish there'd been another choice."

Hakkon looking out through his grey eyes, seeing the things he sees and adding his thoughts and emotions to Ameridan's mind, blurring them both. Hakkon coming to him that night when the clan was attacked, Hakkon's strength in his dying body, Hakkon tearing their enemies to shreds, laughing with Ameridan's voice but not his laugh, not his joy in the killing.

He wishes the others didn't have to see it. That they didn't have to look at him now and know that the one they called hahren and bestowed the name of their clan is an abomination. That his back is straight and his hands strong and that he stands in the sunlight again because something else is standing with him.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan, he was for a while. But he cannot use that name anymore.

"We should be off", he says. A little further away, others are waiting for them to catch up. New faces, but they seem like good people. The one they call Rook has put together a capable group. Harding. He'll need to tell her too when they reach their sanctuary.

He's not sure if it's grief or shame that wells up and fill his eyes with tears, but he turns quickly, lowering his head to brush them away. He wanted to stay here. He didn't want to die, but he was ready to let it happen as he knew it would; he got the peace he always yearned for, and if it had to end, at least it would end in the best way possible. But now all that is different, and that peace is gone.

You are making this so much harder than it is. Hakkon has been quiet in his mind, and now that he speaks it sounds like mockery. And yet he is right in a way. Staying here, thinking about what he's walking away from makes the walking harder. He needs to just leave. Without another word he brushes past Asharen and joins the others, giving a single nod of his head when Rook asks if he's ready for the walk to the nearest eluvian, if those are all his things, is he is alright---

But before they've reached the edge of the camp, where signs of recent battle are still visible, blood drying brown in the grass where Hakkon's battleaxe tore throats and chests open, someone cries out behind them. A girl has escaped her parents' vigilant eyes and come running, calling his name.

Elirin. She's lost two front teeth since last he saw her. When he was strong enough to sit by the fire and tell stories, she'd ask for ones with Da'harel in them, then curl up with her head on his leg and pretend to be a very small wolf while he spoke. Now she wraps her arms around his legs and sobs into them until he manages to untangle himself from her grip so he can crouch down and hug her properly. Her parents wouldn't want him to. They'd worry about the demon. But he can't push her away, and he knows there is no danger.

She's holding a straw hat, like the ones the members of the clan make for themselves and to sell. At first he thinks she must have just been working on it when she saw him leave --- it's clearly her handiwork, childish and clumsy and therefor lovely --- but she presses it into his hands.

"Oh", he says, as his hands close round the brim. "Is it for me?"

She nods, her face set with determination.

There clearly is no fighting that. He would hurt her if he tried to decline. Blinking away more tears he takes the hat and puts it on --- it's a little large, probably not made for him to begin with, but it stays in place if he's careful. There are places where the straw sticks out and places where the woven pattern breaks. He loves it. One of the adult's perfectly crafted hats wouldn't have filled him with as much love as this one. "Thank you", he says, voice brittle. "That should keep me safe from the sun in Antiva."

Satisfied, Elirin turns to run back to her parents. Ameridan straightens up. The straw hat casts a shadow over his face until he turns back to the others, facing the sun.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan. Maybe he keeps the name, at least for now.

"I'm ready", he says, and this time he feels it. "Let us go."

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[mutiny-huyutiny]

сборник всякой всячины по чуме+песьему двору

cw guro under the cut c метелиным и твириным. Again.