#herschel shepherd

[s0fter-sin]

in recon by fire when laswell gets abducted, did shepherd tip off al-qatala that she'd be there? bc wasn't it a cartel outpost? why was al-qatala there? i know they were working together but why is it al-qatala specifically that takes her instead of it being a group effort?

it would be a huge benefit to have laswell, and by extension price and gaz, out of the picture while he scrambles to fix his mess since she is pretty much his biggest obstacle (and knows it which is why he’s so quick to not let her near the missiles)

the way he tries to drag out her rescue - "we can't just send in the cavalry, these things take planning and preparation" - only to agree to send price and gaz by themselves, presumably thinking it would just be them (since he doesn’t seem to believe in allies or trust) and they'd either take a long time and be preoccupied or fail to get her back altogether and die in the process

it takes these huge pieces off the board; other than the missiles themselves his only obstacle is ghost and soap and his next step is to take them out. the way he doesn't hesitate to put them under a kill order makes you think he expected the other half of the 141 to also be dead

[laswells-ashtray]

Can you ramble more about General Shepherd please !!!

Please say more about what you think about his character and motivations he has !

I think he's a good character because he truly is an awful person. He's realistic. He's the man behind the desk who has no qualms about letting anyone else take a bullet for his mistake so long as his excuse his patriotism. Like so many people in high positions, he doesn't view fatalities as people, to him they're just the means to an end. He's spent so long dedicating his life to the cause that he has no end game other than fighting to see America succeed but they never do because ending one conflict only offers up soldiers out of a job to fight another. As long as he looks good and patriotic he gets to keep the swanky title and the money, he gets the pride. Who is he if not a man who's given his all for America? Through legal means or not.

He doesn't care about the people he works alongside, so long as America looks good and in the end so does he for the work he put towards it. In the second game, what happened with Laswell was just another incident that he was willing to look past. When John and Co all went after her and saved her, at least he wouldn't have to find a new person for the job. John's disrespect for authority grates on him because he needs to be in control of the situation and how it ends. Graves was an easy buy because he did what he was paid to and who's better to fight for them than one of their own but Graves' reluctance to take the fall angered him because Shepherd felt like he was owed it.

He did what he did for the good of America, he felt he was owed the pardon and that Graves' should've had his back. But in the end, Graves looks after his own back because he's one in the same.

[sergeantwoods]

cryibg help me i cant believe i made that

AHHHHHHHJH HELP ME

[mykelneedssleep]

??? Pt1

[***TW/CW vomiting - it's not described but he does talk about it a lot]

“General.” His greeting was short, curt. 

“Commander MacTavish,” Shepherd responded. He would never get used to that. Commander. It wasn’t his rank, at least not in his mind it wasn’t. In his mind, he was still Sergeant MacTavish- that was his rank before Shepherd ever got to him, before anyone had- he was second to Lieutenant Riley alongside Sergeant Garrick, under Captain Price. It was a lie, but it was his life, it had been for months and it felt more real than anything. He was a part of the 141. He liked his life the way it was even if it was a lie. He liked the 141, he liked Price and Gaz, he liked Ghost. 

It couldn’t last forever though, he knew that. He wished it could but he knew one day Shepherd’s orders would conflict Price’s and everything would come crashing down because he would have to follow Shepherd over Price. It was the chain of command after all and Shepherd had placed him where he was very tactically. Shepherd had never conflicted Price, at least past the point in which he was ordered to keep quiet about who had his true loyalty. 

It felt like it had been too long since he spoke but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, “what can I help you with, General?” 

He heard Shepherd’s harsh laugh through the phone, “that’s why I like you, John,” he cringed a little at the name, no one calls him John. To everyone he was Soap, or in the case of Ghost and Ghost only, Johnny. “You’re always so helpful,” the General was silent for a second before he spoke again, “it seems like my dog has broken his leash, we should fix that yeah?”

Graves. To say he’d been out of line recently was an understatement, he’d gone off the rails entirely ever since Shepherd had merely suggested betraying the 141. He’d said it to both of them- separately, of course, the secret of his employer was secret from everyone, including Commander Graves. Soap didn’t like it but Graves took the idea and ran with it. The 141 were his friends but there wasn’t much he would do without directly defying orders. “What do you suggest we do?” 

“What do you do with a dog that doesn’t stop biting?” 

He knew Shepherd was a monster but he couldn’t wrap his head around just how seriously ill in the head he was until this moment, “you want me to… kill Commander Graves?”

The General laughed again, colder this time, “intuitive too. You know I always thought you’d look better in that leash than him.” 

He felt sick. “You want me to take over for Graves?” Shepherd didn’t respond. He would take over Shadow Company, how would he explain that to his team? “I- how?” 

“I don’t care,” Shepherd replied flippantly, “just get rid of him, he’s more of a liability to me at this point than anything.” The line went quiet and for a fleeting moment he thought Shepherd had hung up on him but he never was that lucky, “oh, MacTavish, when you’re done with Graves, get rid of Riley and the rest of Price’s team, we don’t need any loose ends. Good luck.” 

He was going to be sick. At least he was lucky that time because Shepherd actually did hang up on him. 

He barely had the time to bold from his room to the latrine before he was heaving into one of the toilets. There was no mistaking what Shepherd meant by that. He had to kill them. Price, Gaz, Ghost. His team, his friends, his family. He had to kill them. 

‘At least you don’t have to explain why you’re leaving…’

“Soap?” an achingly familiar voice called from outside the stall. The same voice that kept him alive mere days ago when he was running through an unfamiliar city, cold, injured, and alone, hunted by the same people he was meant to lead. The voice he’d have to forcibly remove from the world soon. “Are you okay?” 

He opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. What were you supposed to tell the man you considered your best friend when you just got the order to kill him? A sob tore from his throat. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until that moment but he could feel the tears on his face, running down to his neck, the back of his hands wet from trying to wipe them away. 

“Johnny? Can I come in?” 

He couldn’t deny Ghost. He never could, but particularly not now. It didn’t matter either way, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Ghost didn’t seem to care for his answer anyway since the door behind him opened slowly and Ghost stepped in. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft, quiet, as he crouched to meet Soap’s slumped form, “are you okay?” He pulled the glove from his right hand, resting the back of it on Soap’s forehead. His hand was cold, Ghost’s hands were always cold but they felt colder, unnatural. 

‘He’s already dying. You’ve killed him just by being here.’

“You don’t have a fever,” Ghost mumbled more to himself to Soap but his voice snapped him back to the moment. “What’s going on, Johnny?”

He wanted to cry more, maybe throw up again, tell Ghost about everything that was going on, confess what Shepherd asked him to do. He couldn’t though. No one was allowed to know. Not even Graves. “I- I don’t know.” It was all he could manage. Close enough to the truth but way too far at the same time. He knew what he needed to do, but he didn’t know how he could. 

Ghost’s hand moved from his forehead to wipe the tears from his face, “are you sick? Did something happen?”

He shook his head, “the uh- the second one.” Talking to Ghost was never a problem for him before but now he had he had an even bigger, deadlier secret to hide, he couldn’t. 

“Okay,” Ghost ran a hand across his shoulder blades and down his spine, carefully avoiding his still aching shoulder. Soap drifted closer to him, resting his head close to his chest where he could hear his heartbeat.

‘He’s still alive. For now.’ 

Ghost’s hand stopped but instead of pushing him away like Soap thought he would, he pulled him closer. Soap fisted a hand in the back of his shirt to keep him there. Like if he gripped him tight enough maybe he wouldn’t have to ever let go. 

They sat like that for a moment before Ghost spoke again, “do you want to talk about it?” 

He could feel another sob catch in his throat, “I can’t.” 

There was a wetness on Ghost’s t-shirt but he didn’t show that he cared, he just resumed his action of running his hand up and down his back, “okay.” He let it go silent for another few moments, “can we at least get off of this disgusting floor? It’s a little uncomfortable, and… gross,” he laughed like he was trying to diffuse the whole situation. 

Soap let him go a little reluctantly, “right. Yeah- uh, yes,” he tried to push himself up but doing so only made him dizzy. 

“Hey, hey, I got you, you’re okay,” Ghost wrapped an arm around his waist to support his weight, “are you lightheaded or nauseous.” 

“I’m fine. Lightheaded, I guess. I’m not going to throw up on you, L.T., don’t worry.” 

Ghost laughed, “I’ve had worse things happen to me but thanks. It’s probably just fluid loss.”

Ghost was probably right, he didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the floor emptying the little contents of his stomach. The stiffness in his muscles and the rawness and his throat said it was quite a while before Ghost found him down there. 

Ghost started moving the both of them towards the door, “let’s get you back to bed and I’ll get you a water and something to eat, okay?” His gaze was almost unsure like he didn’t know if that was actually the right thing to do. In a way it wasn’t, Soap was going to kill him one day- or have someone else kill him for him- and here he was helping him recover from throwing up just thinking about it. It almost made him want to do it again. It made him want to scream at him, to push him off and yell until they were both too angry with each other to think about anything. It made him want to make Ghost hate him so it wouldn’t hurt as much when he left but he couldn’t. Ghost was trying to help him, he at least owed him cooperation if he was… if he was going to kill him. 

“You’ll be okay,” Ghost said as he dropped him back in his room. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He would be okay. He would be alive and Ghost wouldn’t.

[if you saw this before I remembered this is not ao3 and I have to manually put the italics back in no you did not, anyway can I just say it is so real of me to say I'm going to post a snippet and then post something that's only slightly shorter than your typical Redamancy chapter. It is also so real of me to say I was going to post this yesterday and then not do it because I got pissed I couldn't think of a name (if you didn’t notice I still can't but I gave up half because I have a migraine and half because I just can’t be bothered to try anymore but like if you have a suggestion please hit me with it). Anyway, I don't have a whole lot planned for this but I do have a couple scenes that have been floating around both in my drafts and in my head so we'll see what happens to them]

[sillylittlecapcutuser]

How I feel about the secret antagonists of mw2

[angels-are-sinning]

you know what would be cool..

mr riley bringing flowers to shepherd. shepherd is in the hospital, of course, after that bullet. the bullet nicked him well, yeah? someone would say. of course. he brings flowers. your favourite, shepherd. puts them close to his face. shepherd is all strung up with wires, cables, connected to beeping machines. he coughs. wheezes. gnarled sputters and hacking come from him.

oh right, says mr riley. a sardonic voice. you're allergic.

then mr riley throws away the flowers and grabs shepherd's by the throat. nails digging into skin.

"i won't ask you again. shepherd, where is he?"

bloodshot blue eyes look at his own. his voice is ragged, hoarse. "what does it matter?"

mr riley presses down--hard, and squeezes. shepherd coughs, pitiful, hands uncoordinated and scrambling to grab his assailant's hands.

suddenly he stops, then grabs shepherd by the shoulders and throws him at the floor. or tries to, at least. shepherd's a whole 180 pounds even though he's lost weight.

when shepherd stumbles to the floor, hacking blood, he looks at the man, face unreadable.

"how unsightly."

he gives him a good kick in the stomach--for good measure.

he's footing the hospital bill, after all. he doesn't want the bastard to die--not yet, anyways. not until he finds simon. and he knows--he knows this very well--that simon was his dog until some transferal in the british army. he has no choice. no other leads. and he'll come back, torturing the man until shepherd gives.

.

he'll find him.

eventually.

[joliejoles]

I realize you never drew a shepherd in cat form will he be a hairless cat?

Absolutely. The next best thing was a persian cat. MW2 Shepherd has a mustache so I imagined him like a sphynx with a mustache, and maybe other hair tufts here and there.

Like so.. although I suppose that specific pic gives more Price vibes. The insane, older Price.

Quoting amiiizuki from my Ghost cat doodles: the beasts are demonic in nature, very icky no good.

[mercury-hg-80]

Call of duty stereotyping based off what I've seen

Ghost- heartless cold guy, either no soft spots or one soft spot which is for someone

Price- dad, daddy, man old as dust, or smart and ruthless

Gaz- price's kid, only personality trait is falling out of a heli

Soap- loud scott, really dumb

Farah- a girls girl, has to be in love with someone

Laswell- mom, only super duper serious

Alex- golden retriever, always with farah

Alejandro- loud angry mexican, dumb

Rodolfo- only known as rudy (not stereotype but it's not something I enjoy seeing) also super duper serious, soft spot is alejandro

Valeria- mommy, being petty and annoying to alejandro

Roach- dumb happy guy needs to be babysat, really chaotic

Shepherd- old as dust, UGLY BLEHHH

Hadir- ???

Graves- biggest patriot, daddy and dad (shadows), always taunting, racist (why???)

König- big shy, dumb, soft, daddy dom, big scary with no feelings

Horangi- always gambling or meows, könig's personal 🐶

Nikto- hot guy with scars, kinda soft

Vladimir- daddy dom like fanfic mafia bosses

Yuri- ??? vladimir's bf I guess

[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt. 9

had to inject a little bit of angst in here, it was a little too happy :) we also get to meet our villains! i'm hoping that my workload will be a bit lighter next semester so that i can update this story more consistently! thanks for hanging in there, comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

cw: shoulder injury, hospital/emergency room,

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

price caught his breath as he skated to the center of the face-off circle. it was the middle of the second period, his team down by 2. they were all skating their asses off, pushing themselves to the limit of what they could do. simon had never hit harder, kyle and johnny were practically blurs on the ice. nearly every pass was successful, they were staying on their feet, and they’d managed to control the puck well all period. the Shadows were tough, though.

john knew they would be. he’d been preparing for this game all season, watching and rewatching tapes to study their playbook. they had some talented men, but the real weapon was their team captain, graves. he played dirty, unafraid to take a few penalties to rattle his opponents. he was aggressive as a defenseman, willing to lay it all on the line to keep his centers and wingers moving down the ice. his stats were impressive, more game-winning goals than anyone else in the league. still, Specgru had prepared. at least, john thought they had.

he found himself face to face with graves, a wolfish grin on his face as he lowered his stick onto the ice. “wish i could say i was impressed,” graves taunted, staring price down. “don’t run a very tight ship, do you, cap’n?” john growled low in his chest. he wasn’t usually hot-headed on the ice, preferring to stay cool and let the others fight it out when it got too much. something about graves just got under his skin. the snark, the attitude, the cockiness of the young captain grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “easy to win games when your coach pays off the refs,” price grumbled in reply. the referee shot them both a warning look, hesitating with the puck held in the air.

they stared each other down, gazes hard and set. with so much on the line for both teams, it was impossible to avoid the tension building. a win for Specgru would send them shooting up the leaderboard, guaranteeing them a spot in the playoffs. for the Shadows, it would earn them the top seed in the division, a nearly impossible feat for a team only established a few years ago. finally, the puck hit the ice, and they scrambled for control.

the rubber slid into a Shadow’s waiting stick, everyone skating into Specgru territory. price cursed under his breath, barking orders across the ice to johnny and kyle. “cut ‘im off! johnny’s open!” he called to kyle, who tried and failed to make a steal. as the puck slid closer to Simon, he swung his stick out to try and catch it, but came up short. price found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with graves as they both took up position in the center of Specgru’s zone. “fuckin’ pitiful performance tonight,” graves said, giving price a shove. “pitiful. that’s a big word for you Americans, isn’t it?” price quipped back, skating forward to try and take control again.

graves followed close behind, toeing the line between permissible plays and penalties. he let his stick swing towards price’s skates, but not enough to trip. he shoved and elbowed, but not hard enough to be roughing. it was frustrating price, his temper reaching a boiling point. his heart thundered in his ears, his muscles ached from how hard he was pushing himself. he’d been on the ice for nearly three minutes of play time straight. he could hear laswell shifting lines around on the bench, trying to accommodate. she’d tried calling out to him, cursing at him to “get his ass off the ice,” but he didn’t care. not when he’d put the weight of his team’s victory on his shoulders and his alone.

he tried for another steal and failed, cursing loudly as he let the momentum carry him around the curve of the rink. he glanced up into the stands as he skated by, his eyes finding you. your brows were furrowed, a slight frown on your lips. he hated to see you like that, all nervous looking and upset. he had to win, if only to wipe that frown off your face. as much as he hated to admit it, he’d become quite attached to you. he didn’t like catching feelings. it made him vulnerable, gave him something to lose and someone to disappoint. he wouldn’t disappoint you this time, though.

in the time it took him to shift his focus from you back to the game, he’d gotten himself up against the boards. that was all the opportunity that graves needed to throw his whole weight against price, slamming him up against the plexiglass. the first thing he felt was a blinding pain in his shoulder. it shot across the top of his chest and down his arm, setting his fingers tingling. something felt wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it. not while the pain was so sharp. he yelped, hitting the ice hard as graves skated away. his heartbeat pounded in his ears, the shrill chirp of the whistle muffled by the adrenaline. curling in on himself as he slid along the wall, he fought to get to his knees. he was sure that frown on your lips would be deeper if he didn’t get up. he had to get up.

a glove wrapped around his bicep, helping to pull him to his feet. with his good hand, he reached across himself, holding his arm in place. moving it hurt. moving anything hurt. slowly, a voice permeated the ringing in his ears, breaking through the haze. “john! are you solid?” kyle called, his grip on john’s arm tightening. all he got was a groan in response, price’s chest heaving as his face scrunched up. he finally raised his head, finding you in the stands again. you were on your feet, hands over your mouth in shock. he wanted to tell you he was alright, run his fingers through your soft hair and hold your head to his chest. anything to make that frightened look in your eyes disappear.

kyle helped him over to the bench, leaving him in the hands of the athletic trainer. the countless questions faded to the background as john saw you start moving his way.

sitting in the emergency department with john had to be one of the worst things you had ever done.

you’d always hated hospitals. they smelled sterile, the sting of disinfectant harsh in your nose. it made you think of illness, death, injury. nothing good ever smelled like a hospital. the room you sat in was bright white, fluorescent lights making your eyes ache and head pound. a dislocated shoulder, that’s what the doctor had said. it certainly didn’t look right, john’s arm hanging at an awkward angle at his side. the athletic trainer hadn’t had the equipment to safely push it back into place, so off to the hospital you two had gone.

you sat in the extra chair by john’s bedside, pulling up your group chat with all of the boys. kyle had chased the both of you back to the locker room, making you promise to keep them all updated. honestly, you weren’t sure how any of them were still playing. it seemed like your messages were getting read instantly. john huffed, the sheets on the hospital bed rustling as he shifted. you were on your feet in an instant, phone discarded on the chair behind you. he held up his good hand, shaking his head. “‘m alright,” he said, tongue heavy in his mouth. they’d given him some pretty strong painkillers while he waited for a doctor to free up.

you still hovered by his side, helping him adjust the pillow under his head. pity made your eyes water as he winced. you couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he was in. “i’m sure the doctor’s coming soon,” you said, trying your best to be comforting. you weren’t always the best in a crisis, but you had held your own so far. john nodded, relaxing as much as he could on the stiff mattress. the two of you were silent for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe and relishing in the knowledge that, for now, everything was okay.

“had worse,” john said, breaking the quiet. you looked down at him, taking a seat at the edge of the hospital bed. “yeah?” you prompt, and he nods. “my first rookie game. got a bit overzealous, wanted to prove myself to the recruits in the stands. ended up in a fight with a guy twice my size and got a broken cheekbone for my troubles. not to mention the black eye and crooked nose.” you hiss, shaking your head to rid yourself of the image. your cheek pulsed with imaginary pain and your hand raised to rub it. “worst I’ve ever done is break an ankle,” you replied. john hums, shrugging his good shoulder. “still painful.” you nod, folding your hands in your lap.

your phone buzzed again on the hospital seat, reminding you of what you’d been doing before you got up. the chat was lighting up, asking for updates. you grabbed your phone and smiled down at it before raising it to show john. “the boys are worried about you.” he smiled softly in response, laying his hand on your thigh. an idea sparked in your mind, opening your camera and flipping it to selfie mode. “proof of life,” you said simply, which earned a chuckle from john. he raised his good arm with a thumbs up and you smile, snapping the photo. you lower your phone, thumbs tapping away at the keyboard.

“[image]”

“Still waiting on the doctor, but pain meds are keeping him in good spirits :)”

your phone vibrated again almost instantly, kyle sending a simple thumbs up. he’d been the most nervous of all of them, hands shaking as he passed john off to you. you weren't sure if it was anger or anxiety. maybe a bit of both. none of them seemed particularly at ease. simon was the next to reply. you read his text, an unattractive snort coming from your nose.

“tell him to bring some of those meds home for all of us to enjoy”

you shared the replies with john, reading each one out to him. his cheeks flushed with each one, the reminder of how much his boys cared for him making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he knew he was loved, but sometimes it took something like this to remind him just how much.

the final score was 5-3, Specgru taking the win. john’s injury had lit a fire under the whole team. they’d played like they never had before, skating harder and faster and making riskier plays. it all paid off, the team moving up multiple spots in the division ranking from this match alone. kyle hadn’t left the ice without spitting at graves’ skates, icy glares shot his way from each of the men. they all hated playing the Shadows, but now it was personal.

none of them even bothered to shower; it was a miracle they even took off their pads and gear before rushing out of the rink. simon was given the keys, simply for the fact that they wanted to get there faster. simon wasn’t known for being the safest driver, but he was more willing to run some red lights and blow some stop signs to get to his destination a minute sooner. 

the drive to the hospital was silent, all three of them buzzing with tension. kyle was bouncing his leg in the passenger seat, a hand occasionally coming up to rake through his curls. he’d been there when john went down, had seen the pain in his eyes, knew how bad it was. johnny sat in the backseat, picking at the seam of his jeans. even the pop tune playing on the radio wasn’t enough to raise his spirits. simon’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, mind fixed on getting to john as soon as possible. he’d seen john injured before, but it always felt worse when he couldn’t be there.

you nearly jumped out of your skin when johnny busted in the room, glancing up from the feed you’d been scrolling on your phone. you hadn’t expected them to be there so soon. john was laying in the hospital bed, his injured arm in a sling and eyes peacefully shut. everyone’s expressions tightened at the sight, simon moving on instinct to john’s side. kyle and johnny bore holes into you with their gaze, silently demanding an update. “he’s fine,” you said, raising your hands like you were placating an aggressive animal. “just sleeping. they gave him some pretty strong pain meds after they set his shoulder.”

everyone seemed to relax, a collective sigh easing the tension in the room. simon pulled a chair up to john’s bedside, taking his hand and stroking his thumb over his knuckles. they’d told you before that simon and john had been the original two, but you’d never really gotten to see their devotion to each other. it was heartwarming to see the usually stoic simon so warm and caring. johnny came over and gave you a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. you didn’t hesitate to hug him back, giving him the comfort he no doubt craved. you thought you might have even felt his breath hitch in an aborted sob. “thanks for takin’ care of our cap’n,” he said softly, pulling back to press a kiss to your cheek. you feel your face heat up, a soft smile curving your lips. “anything for him,” you reply. “anything for all of you.”

the boys quickly settled in the hospital room, pulling in chairs and situating themselves with an unobstructed view of john. you smiled softly, wondering to yourself if john knew just how much he was loved. it certainly wasn’t a common thing to have your hospital room full for just a dislocated shoulder. before them, you weren’t sure that anyone besides your mother would’ve come to stand watch at your bedside. 

“how was the game?” you asked, trying to break the worried silence that had fallen over the room. kyle spoke up, seemingly as desperate for a distraction as you were. “we won it,” he said simply, his eyes still trained on john. “made sure Graves spent more time in the penalty box than he did on the ice.” johnny scoffed, tapping a bruise on his cheek. “one of the Shadows got a couple hits off on me, but he got worse than he gave.” you smiled, shaking your head at johnny. with him, you didn’t doubt it. johnny was particularly ruthless in a tussle, both with his tongue and his fists.

“what is the deal with those Shadow guys?” you leaned forward on your knees, your back starting to ache from the uncomfortable chair. simon scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “bastards, tha’s wha’ they are,” he said bitterly, his jaw tight under the surgical mask he wore. johnny reached over, laying a hand on simon’s bicep to steady him. the Shadows were a sore spot for them, especially after the events of today’s game. “they’re our rivals,” Kyle explained. “but they’re a bit more than that. there’s some…bad blood there, been there a while.”

you cocked your head to the side, curiosity brimming. you’d noticed the tension before the game had even started. everyone seemed antsy on the bench; john was the most tense of all of them, but it clearly wasn’t a normal match. “got an asshole of a coach over there. shepherd,” johnny said, fire brimming in his bright blue eyes. “nasty bastard. doesn’t play fair.” “he chose graves as team cap’n ‘cause he plays dirty,” simon chimed in. “doesn’t care about hurtin’ anyone, just wants to win.”

you shook your head in disbelief, your own anger starting to build at the explanation. you’d seen what being overly competitive could do to a sport, especially to the teammates. an athlete who only wanted to win could be an asset, but it could be dangerous if it got out of hand. graves seemed to be one of those athletes where it had gone too far. “how has he not gotten penalized for it? surely this isn’t the first time he’s hurt someone else like this.” johnny shook his head, his grip on simon’s bicep tightening. “got all the refs in ‘is pocket. shepherd pays ‘em out to make sure ‘is men dinnae get a penalty.”

you knew how that felt. when you were younger, a fresh face on the competition scene, there were allegations that someone in your division was paying off judges. it was a horribly-kept secret; the skater bragged about it in the locker room and always managed to get top marks, no matter how bad their program was. still, when their family had all the money, nobody seemed to bother raising a stink. “at least you kicked their ass,” you said, trying your best to sound motivating. kyle smiled a bit, his gaze admiring. “yeah, pretty. we kicked their ass.”

after what felt like hours, the charge nurse gave john his discharge paperwork and care instructions, releasing him into the capable hands of all his partners. it took all four of them to get John to the car as high as he was. compliments were given freely and he made an attempt to get into more than one pair of pants before they’d even gotten to the parking lot. you begrudgingly split ways with them, offering assistance if they needed it before returning to your own car.

daily updates came through the group chat, selfies of the boys helping john with his daily routines and pictures of him trying to cook or write with his left hand. what was almost better were the texts from john himself. they’d been bad before, but now that he was typing with his non-dominant hand, it was downright comical. john would text an indecipherable string of letters, followed by a translation from one of the others once they’d figured out what john was trying to say. besides this, life went on as normal, except for one thing. you hadn’t had your last date.

john had planned an evening for the two of you at the apartment they all shared, complete with a homemade dinner and a rom-com. with the injury, though, you assumed it was all on hold. you’d seen through photos that he couldn’t exactly cook at the moment and you doubted that he wanted company while he was in pain. when the night of the date arrived, you settled yourself on the sofa with a glass of wine and your latest romance novel, content to ride the night out with your vibrator. you’d barely gotten cozy before your phone began to ring, buzzing insistently at your hip. glancing at the screen, you saw John’s name pop up on the caller ID.

“john? is everything alright?” you answered quickly, fearing the worst. maybe he was alone and needed help. maybe he’d reinjured his arm. “everything is most certainly not alright, dove,” he answered. you bolted up from the sofa, dashing for your nearest pair of slip-on shoes. “what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask quickly, fumbling for your car keys on the entry table. worst-case scenarios flooded through your mind, anxiety curling bitterly in your stomach. he chuckled on the other side of the phone, which stopped you in your tracks. “what’s wrong is that you’re late for our date.”

your brow furrows in confusion, pausing in your frantic rush to get out the door. the date? “but your arm-” “i couldn’t care less about my arm right now. i asked a pretty thing on a date and they’re standing me up.” your cheeks warm with embarrassment, sheepishly grabbing your purse from the hook. he didn’t sound angry, but you supposed he had every right to be. “sorry, i, uh…i thought we’d reschedule or something. but i should’ve asked. i’ll be right over.” john hummed, almost amused. “take your time, pet. we’ve got the whole night.”

without a second thought, you hung up the phone, heading out your front door. no need to keep him waiting any longer than he already had.

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19 @aylitgirl @vvs-dlxodyd @bollzinurmouth @rafaelacallinybbay @namgification @cameron1-1-1 @kee-0-kee @klerns-birdie

[crazyfandomluver]

Shepherd as a news anchor would not make it one day before being fired

[ms-rampage]

Shepherd: *goes on some sort of rant*

Kenneth (my COD oc): "Settle down before you blow your pacemaker kid."

141 TF: *hold back laughter*

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ Task Force 141 - NFL AU 🏈

by me (sleepyconfusedpotato) and @alypink ! This AU will include some Original Characters made by us both!

---

New Hampshire 141s, a new rising american football team whose players dominantly came from the United Kingdom, is ready to face the NFL season!

As the previous Head Coach, Herschel von Shepherd got fired by the General Manager MacMillan, John Price (who has roots in rugby) got chosen by MacMillan to bring the team to victory. Let us see which players caught Coach Price's eyes!

John Price (HC)

John Price was born in Liverpool, England, but moved to America when he was still very young due to his father being deployed from the military to an American base. Although his father retired a couple of years later, they decided to stay in America. He grew up loving sports as a child but American football always piqued his interest more than any other sports. He played safety in middle and high school, but in his junior year, he had Meniscal tears that prevented him from ever playing again. John was heavily depressed after his injury, one day one of his close friends, Nikolai, who was also one of his fellow teammates on his high school team, told him to cheer him up to go watch the team play or to attend the training camps, John agreed and started assisting to the games and eventually started to think about becoming a head coach. He was recommended by his former high school head coach to take the job as a defensive coordinator for the New Hampshire Wildcats, a college football team. His performance and playbook were impressive, leading the Wildcats to reach a bowl and winning it twice. He proved to be fit and ready for a professional football team in the NFL and was hired as a defensive coordinator by the New Hampshire 141’s, by the HC at that time, Herschel von Shepherd. His first two seasons were disastrous as there was friction between the players and their head coach, most of the players disagreed with Shepherd's decisions and playmaking. To add to that, he seemed to never care about the player's input or needs. Although in those seasons they held a record of 4 wins and 12 losses, the General Manager of the team noticed his defense was the best in the league for both points and yards, and also noticed that a good portion of his defense players were selected on the all-pro team of those two seasons. After the owner and GM fired Shepherd as a Head Coach, John took his place.  In his first seasons with the 141s, he restructured the team and went to playoffs and one NFC championship. As he wanted to improve his team, he started attending college football games, he attended once a college game in which he met the offensive coordinator at the time, Aly, and after the game he met her to ask about some players he was interested in on her actual team, for QB and WR positions, they became acquaintance since that day and kept communication for some time, as she sent some prospects his way. She also requested his help every now and then, making him attend her games and inviting her over to watch the 141s too. After spending time together and sharing the same interests and love for football, they started to date but kept it low as two months later, John hired her as his new offensive coordinator.

#26 Kyle Garrick (WR)

the most responsible and reliable player of the team. Kyle’s dad was an ex-WR and a former head coach out of a college football team. His father is a very hardworking man and disciplines his son like a football player, and with that, comes a great expectation for Kyle since his high school years. Kyle is extremely reliable, responsible, and respected on and off the field. He is HC John Price's favorite due to his work ethic. Kyle believes in having discipline in everything he does to be one of the best. He keeps a picture of his girlfriend, Eleanor Graham (Ladybug) everywhere, especially in his locker room as he says she brings him good luck for catching the hail mary’s from Alex.  Kyle and Alex met in Baylor University, where they played together and won many games, including several bowl games. They became best friends in and out of the football field, supporting each other infinitely. “You've got friends nearby.” On Alex’s quote, “I can throw the ball like ‘fuck it, he’s over there somewhere’ and Kyle would magically appear and catch the ball. He’s always at the right place.”

One day during practice Alex was throwing the ball too far to the left, which headed straight towards her head. On instinct and in an attempt to catch the ball, Kyle collided with Eleanor, which bruised her arms. Instead of being upset like how Kyle would expect her to react, she laughed loudly at him, saying that she chose to sit there. She knew the hazard of studying near a football field. Even though Eleanor said she can take care of her bruises, Kyle insisted on nursing her. (Alex SMILED ear to ear). They both met from time to time. Every practice, Kyle always looks for Eleanor on the side of the field. Eleanor’s laid-back personality often bothers Kyle as she's a damn med school student, but through her, Kyle learns how to slow down and live in the moment. Love bloomed between them and they became a couple midway through freshman year. 

When Kyle was drafted to the NFL to be with Alex for New Hampshire 141s, Eleanor was there with him when he received the call from HC Price. Though Eleanor has to stay in Texas to continue her studies, Eleanor travels to New Hampshire often to visit Kyle.

#31 Alex Keller (QB)

Alex is the quarterback of the 141s, second draft pick and first QB of his university. He is very skilled and hard-working, he is in love with water girl Farah Karim and aspires to be like Tom Brady. He and Kyle Garrick (WR) met in their first year of freshman in University and they played since their first year as the duo of QB and WR (Burrow and Chase vibes) and were drafted together in the NFL draft by the same team. Young duo but very effective especially during the regular season. Alex Keller met Farah Karim in his rookie season during training camp in his first year and has been infatuated with her. Since then, he has tried to score ASAP or reach 4th down so he can sit on the bench and talk with her. Whenever he can, he visits and picks her up from University and helps her out whenever he can in anything she would need.

#70 Simon Riley (TE)

Simon Riley used to be a rugby player in England. He joined the rugby team during his college days and met Price as one of his coaches, who trained and guided him to become one of the most dominant flankers in college rugby. Unfortunately, though he’s always dependable whenever he’s on the field, Simon was often riddled with injuries. His quiet personality didn’t help his case either, bearing the pain in his left leg in silence, until one day, he tore his ACL during an important game which cost the team their winning chances. Simon rested for a whole year to heal his knee. Together with his familial struggle, he contemplated quitting being an athlete. That was until Coach Price offered him a fresh start in the USA. As a flanker is equivalent to the Tight End position in American football, Price told him that he would be perfect for the role. Simon was adamant at first as he was still injured and how he’d be able to completely heal from this devastating injury. But when he said that in America they could find him a good physiotherapist to help him heal his knee, he reluctantly accepted the offer.  Simon got into the draft and was a first-round pick due to how much of a good player he was in rugby. On his first day on the team, he met the other players who got drafted, but the most important and the most fateful meeting was when he got introduced to Charlotte Le Jardin (nickname Jade to simplify her last name), a physiotherapist that Laswell had promised help him to heal his ACL and help him regain his top form. It was a rough road, but with every step he took, Jade was there to help him.  Now, every injury he has he doesn’t stay on the sidelines but goes inside the tent or the stadium so he can be checked by her. Whenever Jade’s out watching the game, he scores more than usual or gets distracted. He often carries the team, especially during the conference championship games. 

#71 Johnny MacTavish (RB)

Johnny MacTavish was born and raised in Scotland. After high school, he was offered an academic and sports scholarship to a prominent university in the USA. He began his football career when he was a freshman at University as a very talented runner, which elevated him as the starter RB on his fifth game. In his senior year he was  awarded the Heisman Trophy winner at college, but due to a shoulder injury, he missed being the top pick at the draft. He was later selected by the New Hampshire 141s and got put in as a starter as soon as he got drafted. He has good chemistry with his team but gets injured by overdoing himself or trying to tackle defensive players on the other team. He is also constantly with Jade for treatment and often misses important playoff games. Johnny is a very talented running back and that is why HC Price can’t get rid of him no matter how he misses practices and meetings and how his personal life affects his performance on the field. He always tries to take his friend Simon Riley to social gatherings and social media, but he completely shuts him down every time. That's different on the field though, as whenever Johnny's going to play a run, Simon will always be there in front of him to push the tacklers away, making way for Johnny to score a first down or a touch down. They're an unstoppable duo together. Johnny is very popular among female fans, making his jersey the one with the most sales every year. His dating story is pretty large and his games are always attended by the women he dates (which constantly changes).

some memes I made 😭

Here's the Hereford 141S' Logo and jersey design! The logo is heavily inspired by the Task Force 141's logo, so it's pretty much just a sporty twist of the logo!

More characters underneath the cut!

#11 Alejandro Vargas (MLB) and #22 Rodolfo Parra (OLB)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Alejandro and Rudy both moved to El Paso, Texas when they started high school at the age of 14 years old. They were avid football (soccer) players during their time in Mexico, but when they started High School they began to play football. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo played as Linebackers, Ale being MLB and Rodolfo being OLB. They did amazing in High School then they both received a scholarship to attend the university in Dallas, Texas. Both of them were later selected to do the NFL Pathway program, for both of them. Being together since their childhood years, high school and university they were a packaged deal and were both selected on the same team, same position on the NFL draft.  Alejandro is especially hyped when playing against Philip Graves, QB of the Dallas Shadows. They have had beef with each other on and off the field since they played against each other for the first time. Ale’s average sack during a game against Dallas is approximately 5 per game, he sometimes is way too harsh while tackling making him get a couple of flags whenever he blitzes and sacks. He’s often scolded by his friend Rudy, but he does not care as long as he can sack Graves.

Kate Laswell (Defensive Coordinator)

(Drawing to be posted!)

was raised in Virginia, USA. Both her parents and brothers loved football and so did she. Since elementary, she watched and never missed a game during weekends, she always had a fascination for the Chicago Bears and their ‘85 team. Her father told her about how that defense, without an extraordinary QB or offense made them win the superbowl and also made them the best defense of all time. After witnessing that season and that Superbowl, she fell in love with how the defense scheme in football works. Unfortunately professional football for women wasn’t an option, so she studied a lot to become a defensive coordinator. She studied day and night, memorizing the plays, analyzing games and creating new playbooks since she was young. She struggled a lot to have an opportunity since it was a male-dominated team. One of her childhood friends made it to the roster to become a defensive coordinator for the Colorado Buffaloes College Football Team, he was a good coach but not “impressive”. She supported him by attending his games but couldn't help but try to talk to him whenever she thought he could do better, often interrupting his play callings during his games to make him change the play, and it always worked. She and his friend attended a College Bowl, and met John Price at that game, the three of them watched the game and she started to tell both of them what adjustment she would do for both teams, and that piqued John’s interests as she was awfully right, he was impressed by how well she read offense’s routes and how she was able to change from a 3-4 or 4-3 to a hybrid defense. He decided to give her a chance and hired her as his new defensive coordinator for the 141’s and established a very good partnership and friendship with her ever since.

Farah Karim (Intern Physical Therapy Student - Watergirl)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Farah Karim is a university medical student who got an internship in his junior year of college to be the water girl and help around the New Hampshire  141s team. She comes from an immigrant family and is the pride and joy of her parents. She struggled so much in her younger years to pursue an education and get into a good college in the USA, she managed to get a scholarship due to her great school performance and was given the chance to work with a professional football team. She met Alex Keller after his rookie season and developed a close friendship with them that later turned into a romantic interest. She is grateful for his help and also supports him during games. Her classmates usually bug her by asking Farah to let them meet Alex or to set them up with him, which she dislikes very much.

(OC) Alyssa Martinez (Offensive Coordinator)

Aly was born in Mexico and moved to the USA thanks to a scholarship she received when she graduated from High School and moved to Texas to attend college. As soon as she graduated from Texas A&M holding a Bachelor of Science in Sport Management, she started working as an offensive coordinator at a local highschool. She then escalated to being an offensive coordinator for the College she attended. Aly managed to take the team to a College Bowl where she met 141s Head Coach John Price and became acquaintances after that game, they kept communication after that game, as Aly asked for suggestions for her playbook and she helped Price on suggesting him prospects for the upcoming draft selection and also players on free agency.  She was later hired by Price as his offensive coordinator and they began to have a low key romantic  relationship. She specializes in West Coast offense, having her team play the Air Coryell scheme. She suggested Price to draft Alex Keller as he was the perfect pocket passer that would fit their offense perfectly. She’s an avid Tom Brady fan.

(OC) Charlotte Le Jardin (Physical Therapist)

Originally from England, Jade was adopted by an American couple and moved with them to the United States at an early age. Her parents, Eli and Gracie, worked at Bravo Stadium, home of the 141s, and Jade became a constant presence on the sidelines. As time went by, the Bravo Stadium became her home. Jade started helping around the sidelines bringing water, towels, medical kits, and even helping out in the blue tent, all the while completing her college in biological science and doctor of physical therapy (DPT), and of course, licensing in Physical Therapy. When she got her license, her experience was already on par with the other physiotherapists since she had been jumping from senior to seniors, learning and practicing all she could. Kate Laswell who has been seeing Jade there since she was a teenager, hired Jade as one of the many physiotherapists for 141s, and with that came a fateful challenge: a newcomer Tight End with a torn ACL from his rugby days, who’s trying to get back to his top form in order to play in the NFL.

---

PHEW so there you have it! If you've read it this far, oh my LORD me and Aly love you so much! This is a pretty severe brainrot that we had, so hope you like it!

And let's enjoy the 2024 NFL Season 🏈🏈🏈

Hope you like it! 🥰🥰

[mykelneedssleep]

??? Pt. 2

[Part 1]

“Hey,” Ghost’s whispered words accompanied his soft knock as he opened the door to Soap’s room for the second time that day. 

‘He must know something is very wrong to come in without permission.’ He knew something was wrong, but Ghost didn’t. Maybe he could feel it though. Maybe he found out about Shepherd and decided to confront him about it, Soap wouldn’t answer the door, he had to have known that. He tried to keep his body from tensing up. 

“You feeling better?” 

Soap couldn’t bring himself to respond. No, he wasn’t feeling better. He wouldn’t feel better any time soon. And he didn’t feel better about Ghost checking on him either. Not after he found him puking his guts out in the latrine earlier after he was told to kill him. 

“Soap?” the bed behind his back dipped a little as Ghost settled on the edge, there was a gentle click like he tried to softly set something down on the nightstand, “Johnny? You awake?” 

He nodded. The room smelled a bit like mint now. 

A hand brushed over the side of his arm briefly before it was gone like it hadn’t been there at all. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” He felt worse, actually. His throat was dry and raw, it hurt to talk, his eyes burned a little, it took too much effort to move. It was less of a feeling like he was going to throw up and more one that he should consider throwing himself off a very tall building to spare his friends. It wouldn’t matter in the end though, he knew that. Shepherd wanted them dead, he’d find some way to kill them with or without Soap.

The question though is would it be better if it was him? He could do it fast, make sure it wasn’t painful. Maybe they’d let him explain things. Would they forgive him? Orders are orders, they all knew that, and sure, they defied them all the time but orders like these weren’t ones you were able to brush off or glance around by doing just enough for it to be considered complete without actually doing it. You couldn’t half-kill someone, it didn’t work that way. You either kill them or you don’t. He had to even if he didn’t want to, they’d know that, right?

“Good. Turn over,” Ghost’s hand pushed gently at his shoulder until he flipped onto his back. He reached over to flick on the lamp on the nightstand. There was a steaming mug sitting next to it that hadn’t been there before and a tiny packet of soup crackers next to it. Ghost took his glove off and placed the back of his hand on Soap’s forehead again. His hands were warmer this time- it was probably just from carrying the tea he’d brought but he felt more alive that time. Soap didn’t know if that made him feel better or even worse. 

He pushed himself up, dislodging Ghost’s hand, “I told you I wasn’t sick.” 

“Yeah, but sometimes you lie.” The way he said it was joking but it hit hard. He was lying to Ghost. Not about the not being sick thing- sick in the head for being able to accept killing his friends so easily, maybe, but down with a virus, no. 

He was lying. About his mission. His rank. His loyalty. He was lying about being Ghost’s friend. Because someone who had friends would be able to stomach killing one of them, let alone all of them, and yet here he is, friendless and a liar. 

Ghost’s voice dragged him back from his spiral again, “do you want to talk about it.”

“I can’t.” 

He tilted his head as he studied Soap for a long moment, “why can’t you talk about it?” He laughed like he was trying to lighten the somber mood they’d thrown themselves into, “you love talking.” 

He could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes again and he tried to speak but Ghost cut him off with a gentle hand on his face, tilting his chin upwards so that he had to meet Ghost’s eyes, “you don’t have to-” he pushed Ghost’s hand away and looked back down. The touch returned just as gentle but slightly more forceful than before, “listen to me. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to tell anyone anything if you don’t want to. But if you do you can talk to me, you know that right?” 

And that was the problem yet again. He could talk to Ghost because Ghost would listen and he did know that but you can’t just casually tell someone that you’re going to kill them. Particularly Ghost. He wasn’t the coldblooded killer the legends made him out to be, he cares about people, and sure, Soap might be one of those people- maybe not though, you never know with Ghost- but he wouldn’t hesitate to take him out if he perceived him as a threat to the team and their mission. And he was their biggest threat right now. 

He nodded and Ghost’s hand drifted away and he wanted to pull it back, to pull him back, but he couldn’t. 

“Are you at least going to be okay?” 

“I will be.” He’d have to be. If he was going to be the last of them he would have to be okay with that. If he was going to be the last of them because he was going to kill the rest of them he’d have to be okay with that. 

Ghost nodded and pushed himself off the bed, “okay. Drink that, and try to eat those, you’ll feel better.” He turned when he got to the door, “by the way, I told Price you have the flu so if he comes by act like it.” 

(Don't mind me just dropping another little part of this instead of the next Metanoia chapter just because it's been on my mind a lot recently. Anyway, I think I'm going to give up on trying to think of a title because usually I get them pretty fast but I've been sitting with this one for like a week and I still have nothing (again, if you have any ideas please hit me with them cause your bitch is desperate). But enjoy scene 2/4 that I've actually thought about, not sure how I'm going to connect this one to the next one but I'll figure it out I guess)

[sillylittlecapcutuser]

How does one throw a Shepherd out a window

[crazyfandomluver]

Let’s be completely honest here. The 141 hates Graves even though it’s clear to us that Graves didn’t want to betray the 141 and Shepherd made/bribed/blackmailed him to do it. (see he never actually made the first move to attack 141 because Alejandro attacked him first and he was acting in self defense when he knocked him out, he hesitated when firing against the 141, his shadows were the ones to fire at the 141 before he did, he purposefully missed any vital organs when firing at Soap(he was a few feet away from Soap, and he’s ex Marine/MARSOC/Marine Raider, you can’t tell me that he doesn’t know how to aim for the head in a hostage situation)

But the 141 would potentially see Graves as a scapegoat, especially since Shepherd betrayed him in court so he would have technically have ‘motive’ to get rid of Shepherd so the general wouldn’t be able to testify against him in court again.

I also believe that price killed shepherd for a reason even though he had previously stated that if Shepherd did what Price wanted they wouldn’t kill him. Shepherd DID do what Price asked him to do, but Price killed him anyways. Why? Well I think that he saw it as a way to get rid of two hypothetical thorns in his side. Kill shepherd and get rid of the corrupt general, and then blame graves for it so Graves would be in trouble with the law and wouldn’t be able to bother them anymore.

Granted, I’m not sure Prices plan worked given that Graves is the one that’s over seeing the war zone, but we’ll see what happens in Modern Warfare 4

[frudoo]

just saw the anon for reader helping slasher 141 and now im thinking about actually doing the whole thing. like finding someone, kidnapping them and torturing them. she does it as a gift or surprise. maybe its their anniversary and she wants to give them the best gift ever.

I love this idea, but I just can't see reader ever participating in the torture aspect of her boys' work. She's absolutely not above kidnapping, though.

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Y'all this one is gross (just not in a gory way). Kidnapping/drugging.

 “I have to say, little girl, you look absolutely delicious tonight.”

     You giggle, allowing him to twirl you and trying not to suffocate on the smell of his cheap cologne. The man is loaded and he won’t even spend a pretty penny on some quality fragrance? Although, what else could you expect from a conman like him?

     “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Chief,” you purr, yelping softly when he pinches your asscheek teasingly.

     You want to vomit. Really, you could do it right here, all over his pristinely polished shoes, or on his tailored suit jacket and annoyingly bright tie. The fact that you’ve managed to keep this charade up for the past couple of weeks is astonishing, to say the least, especially given the fact that you’ve been hiding it from the boys. It kills you to see their disappointed faces every time you turn down a night in with them, making up poor excuses about how you’re just going to decorate your classroom, or that your friend has been having a rough time and you’re going to her house to support her.

     The truth is that you’re doing it for their benefit. Herschel Shepherd has been on your boys’ radar for years now, long before they ever met you. It’s just been too risky for them to attempt anything, be it a kidnapping or assassination. He’s too public of a figure as head of police, meaning that he’s protected by a multitude of security personnel, and on top of that, can easily defend himself. Even if they tried to befriend him, suspicions would be raised and it would likely fail.

     That’s where you enter. You’re exactly the chief’s type—a pretty young thing with big, soft tits and a charming smile. The only thing you’re missing is the naivety he’s so desperate to corrupt, but you’ve proven yourself a wonderful actress and he’s none the wiser. For someone who used to be a detective, he really is clueless. Someone should have taught the old man not to flirt with strangers on the internet. You’re just grateful that he took the bait so easy, all too eager to get his dick wet. 

     “Since I’ve treated you to such a nice dinner, how about giving me some dessert?” You hear his knees pop when he bends to whisper into your ear.

     “Anything for you,” you murmur back, “Daddy.”

     For the love of all things holy, you cannot wait to get this bullshit over with. Shepherd wraps his arm around your waist and ushers you into his limo—he really wanted to go all out for his ‘girlfriend,’ apparently. The inside smells like cigar smoke and you have to bite back a frown. It makes you think of John and how desperately you’d prefer to be in his arms instead. In all of their arms. With every disgusting, sloppy kiss the sick fuck peppers across your jawline, you have to remind yourself that it’s all for them.

     For them, for you, for every poor family he’s ever screwed over. It’s all too familiar, the coverups, the paying off coworkers and employees so that they keep their mouths shut. You’ve read about countless cases against heinous criminal acts that were suddenly dismissed when a certain slob threw a large sum of money towards the judges. You can’t even begin to imagine how many women alone have been assaulted because this corrupt piece of shit paid to let their abusers go—and for what? To gain favor? To get reelected? God knows he cheats his way through the system anyway.

     You feel your hand being tugged and realize that you’ve arrived at the parking lot where your car still is, some random garage located in the heart of the downtown area—about an equal walk from any little shop or restaurant in the vicinity. Your ‘date’ furrows his eyebrows and looks at you, confused.

     “A little Toyota Corolla is more inconspicuous than a limousine, don’t you think?” you hum as you pull out your keys.

     “Right,” Shepherd nods, opening the driver’s side door for you. “We are still going to the hotel?”

     “Of course.”

     He buckles into the passenger seat while you start the car, messing with the air conditioning like it’s his right. You avoid rolling your eyes as you begin driving, softly humming along to the radio. There’s a tin of mints in your glovebox that you pull out and offer to him. All according to plan, he takes the bait.

     Almost instantly after popping the tainted mint into his bastard mouth, he starts getting woozy, saying odd things and swaying in his seat. Adrenaline rushes through your veins—this is really happening. You’re kidnapping the chief of police, your husbands’ most desired target, driving him back to your home to be tortured and killed. It’s surreal, and there’s guilt eating away at whatever sense of retribution you’d created in your head. Still, there’s no turning back now.

     No turning back from the rattle of his unconscious body as you drive over the gravel path leading to the barn. No turning back from the strain you put on yourself as you haul his deadweight through the random pieces of hay, nor the act of tying his arms behind the metal pole in the stable where horses should be but has only kept victims. This is a decision you made and will have to live with. For the greater good, you ask yourself, or for the praise you know you’ll receive from your boys? In the end, it’s all one and the same to you. 

     As you stand over the comatose-laden sleazebag, you hardly make out the sound of the barn door slamming open and all four of your lovers trailing in with wide eyes.

     “Bloody hell.”

     “No fuckin’ way.”

     “Steamin’ Jesus, hen.”

     “Darlin’, how in the fuck did you manage this?”

     There’s a beat of silence before you turn around to look at them, your face maddeningly neutral.

     “Happy anniversary, guys.”