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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

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Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky.

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well.

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility.

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs.

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home.

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered.

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack.

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look.

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly.

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.”

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision.

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball.

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided.

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser.

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out.

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond.

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you.

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended.

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed.

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly.

“The nose knows,” you shrugged.

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds.

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell.

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked.

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back.

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would.

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs.

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to.

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye.

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog.

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor.

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered.

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life.

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you.

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low.

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him.

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird.

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you.

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off.

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed.

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something.

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target.

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off.

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one.

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive.

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar.

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt!

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him.

Protect. Mine. Kill threat.

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding.

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward.

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall.

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above.

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer.

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms.

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers.

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine.

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt.

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer.

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse.

Your panting breaths eased.

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined.

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second.

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie.

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it.

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you.

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before.

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped.

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted.

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously.

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance.

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do.

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth.

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression.

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread.

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin.

“I reckon so,” Ghost said.

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore.

You couldn’t make sense of it.

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones.

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable.

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again.

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence.

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook.

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.”

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice.

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back.

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice.

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.”

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.”

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you.

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level.

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right.

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you?

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now.

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead.

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin.

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged.

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him.

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing teammates would say.

It made you smile then.

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader #reign down on me

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ghouldtime · 3 months ago

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I need more neighbor König getting protective over his little neighbor.

I do believe he can get very possessive, though I'm not sure that's the word I'm looking for. But he's lost so much, so many people in his unit and people he had once considered friends. He won't even visit his own mother because he's scared for her safety. Maybe an enemy finds out some way some how about her and takes her as leverage. Now she gets to see colonel konig with his gear and mask and barking orders and not the sweet man she's come to know. How would he react or feel?

Ofc when she realizes it's just him and throws her arms around him

I'm sorry but I'm answering this because this doesn't fall under my characterization of him 😭 I can do the last part maybe one day when I'm not sick and have planned everything out in my mind THOROUGHLY

I know you meant no harm by this either!! This is just a bit of a rambly tangent to describe WHO my König is and why he's that way.

(Also stating that reader in neighbor isn't explicitly a she nor are they little in the same way. I write gender neutral for a reason! They're a grown adult)

Like I know it's just an imagine and possible scenario but for me I just don't really see it happening unless quite literally EVERYTHING went wrong. He's got plan A, plan B, plan C, D, and E. Always be prepared.

But it strikes me as unlikely in happening at all as he is a VERY cautious man and does what he can to remove his identity as König from his residential life. He keeps his gear under lock and key, he doesn't tell personal details of his work, he doesn't want to track ANY of that back. His field life isn't his personal life and he's intent on keeping that separated. Anything that could be used to identify him, he doesn't keep around or its hidden so NO ONE would suspect it.

It would take some absolute major intel and someone working within KorTac itself to follow him like that - even then, dude is a bit paranoid. He's got a security system for a reason, he doesn't wear his mask in public, his body is covered up usually by the long clothes he wears, he's not out socializing - he's just blending in. He's watching cars that pass, he usually keeps curtains drawn or has privacy film, he knows who drives what car and their schedules - so if it's off, he's picking it up.

The way he's protective is in his actions - that's WHY he won't tell details of his work, that's WHY he works hard to ensure personal life doesn't meddle with what his job is, that's WHY he has backup plans. That's WHY he makes sure they get a security system too, if they haven't had one already. That's why he makes sure they're trained in self defense and have at least some form of weapon at the ready, even though they ARE in a safe area. He's protective in the sense of "I'm doing what I can to prevent that aspect of my life from coming into yours" , he's protective in the sense of "I've seen what people are capable of, I've protected myself so I'm protecting you too as much as I can because you matter to me". He's protective in the sense he's caring, he's going out of his way to make sure you're safe.

But he's not going to be protective in the sense of "let me be with you constantly" or "who were you talking to???" or "Why didn't you invite me". Reader is a grown, independent adult and he's aware of that. He's respectful of that and knows they're capable of caring for themselves too. Being IN their life doesn't mean he IS their life. They both operate in their own lives and have their own interests and both, as such, need alone time and time to spend with others too. That's just how to have healthy relationships.

He's very independent himself and having another person around as his friend has taken a significant adjustment period. Honestly, it takes a long time for him to even register that he can go do things with them. He's so used to being on his own that it has to catch up.

And I'm going to say that my König is NEVER possessive towards people. Never. Possessive implies treating them like an object or piece of property, like they're something that's his alone. Possessive means great insecurity in his sense of relationships to the extent where he's manipulating them and monopolizing their lives for his gain.

He's not, because he's a well adjusted adult who has been to therapy throughout his life to manage his own insecurities, especially involving interpersonal relationships. Hell, when he STARTED to even get feelings for neighbor, he brought it up to said therapist just to be sure he's going down the right path. He's built a set of healthy behaviors to cope with unhealthy feelings that may arise.

He gets jealous, especially initially, but once again - he's a grown adult and is capable of handling his own insecurities in a productive way. Everyone is allowed to have more than one person in their lives and a healthy network of relationships matters.

Protective? Yes. Possessive? Absolutely not. He respects independence as he himself is that way. He wants to spend as much time as possible with his neighbor but he realizes that he too needs his own space and time to recharge, and he can't be singularly focused on one person alone. His primary concern is their safety, no matter what they do.

He's lost many comrades and brothers in arms but that's also bound to happen in his line of work. This might sound brutal, but he's desensitized to it to a degree. Losing someone is never easy, but it's expected. The blow will always hurt but when it's always a possibility, it never wanes. He's wary of it and aware of it, and losing any friends he made happened earlier on in the army before his private contracting days. It numbed him too it and set the precedent for his relationships with anyone and is why he's so guarded.

After then, he's not really had many friends. Not that he had many to begin with but he doesn't go out of his way to get close to others. Acquaintances and work buddies? Yes. But friends are a rarity as he's really rather unapproachable. He's there to do his job, he's there to take people down and get paid, he's wary of getting close to ANYONE knowing they can be taken at any moment. He'll work with them, he'll know them, he'll be proud of them - but making friends and forming personal relationships like that in a private military contracting company is a bad idea, when they can easily swap over to the other side if they're offered more pay. He's seen it happen, he knows it's a real possibility.

That's why he picks any personal relationships closely and takes eons to warm up. His social anxiety, as well managed as it is, doesn't make it any easier. He knows what can happen, so he prepares as best as he can. Which INCLUDES being protective and prepared, and planning accordingly. If he's letting anyone into his life, he's already got a game plan for what he'll do.

And no, he DOES visit his mother, as I've stated! As much as his work allows and as much as possible, he does visit. He just doesn't live with or near her. He can easily visit throughout the year when his schedule allows and its sporadic, with no rhyme or reason. He doesn't take repeating cars, he doesn't do anything in a pattern that can be tracked. He's also made sure she's secure in her home too so it's unlikely things will happen, but he won't flat out not communicate with her and not see her at all. He's just smart and careful about it! He can't bare to never see her again.

I'm sorry but my König just doesn't fall under how most people portray him or see him. He's just a guy with his own personal issues. And like the proper guy that he is, he manages them and knows its his responsibility to do such. He's extensively gone to therapy, he's worked on himself, he knows where he stands.

Sure, he's still prone to jealousy and a touch of paranoia, but that doesn't mean he lacks the skills to work through them. He communicates like an adult with whatever he's feeling. Expressing it can be hard but he DOES get it out there and he also heavily respects reader's own autonomy. They're an adult, so is he. He'll protect them and do what he can, he'll care about them, but he will never seek to control them or treat them like something for only HIM to have. He's not and will never be a "they're MINE and NO ONE touches what's mine" - that's just not him to me. I don't write him as a big, broody dommy guy who is growling every sentence or can't handle others talking to someone he likes.

To me, he's just a dude. An introverted guy who likes to sew ridiculous pillows and tend to his garden who is happy in the home he made for himself. He's comfortable with who he is and where he stands. He can communicate properly, knows how to respect boundaries, and likes seeing others who matter to him happy in their lives as they establish a supportive network. Just because he isn't always with them or going with them doesn't mean they can't take care of themselves or he HAS to be there. He's not some ultra possessive dude because he has healthy understandings of boundaries and knows the world doesn't revolve around him and his wants (also he wouldn't WANT them to depend on him and him alone when its very possible he too will die on the field one day). He's not always going to look over your shoulder or instantly treat any other person as a threat.

He's seasoned with the things he's seen and is wary enough to be protective and to do what he knows to prevent what he's seen happen. He's cautious, he's considerate, he's caring - and he's not a cunt about it. Really, he's just perceptive and accepts what can happen so he tries to set up anyone in his life for success to avoid what he's seen and to keep them from harm. He can't always be there, he knows he can't, so ensuring that those around him who he DOES care about have a proper, healthy network of friends around for support and have a game plan for if shit hits the fan (as well as a system to enact it) is his way of showing he cares and can always be with them and help, even if he's long gone or buried six feet under.

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rallamajoop · 1 year ago

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A needlessly detailed analysis of Heisenberg's Conspiracy Board

One of the random details I was most eager to find in the RE8 game assets was Heisenberg's conspiracy board. (It's labeled 'strategy board' in the game files, but I think we all know what we're looking at here.)

The assets consisted of a base layer (below) with separate higher-res photos of Chris, Mia, Rose (with Ethan!) and the other three lords (clean versions of those last three, plus Heisenberg, can be found over here). The actual model is more 3-dimensional than you might think, with many of the photos displayed as separate 'flaps' that stick out from the base board (which does unfortunately make stitching together higher-res screencaps of the full board very difficult).

There are a few reasons why I wanted better pics of the board, but a real big one was catching an in-game glimpse of this one smaller photo on the upper right of some guy in sunglasses and going, wait, is that Wesker?

Having extracted the highest-res version of that photo possible... well, for that to be Wesker, he'd have to have come back to life and aged about 20 years. Which wouldn't entirely be out of character (he's come back from the dead at least once already, and even Chris is looking his age these days) but is really that who it's supposed to be? IDEK, and neither does this one Reddit thread I found discussing the same question.

There are a few other human-faces around the board ‒ mostly some mustachioed dude(s?) ‒ some of them entirely hidden under other photos on the finished board, but none I recognise. Presumably they're meant to be folks who are/were involved with Miranda or other bio-weapons research, past or present, and maybe they're characters set to appear in some future RE installment. But they may just be stock photos, thrown in to fill space.

But having finally posted this thing and come back to it again this morning, I'm looking at that one larger guy in one of those photos and going, wait, isn't that the Duke?

Goddamn, it is, isn't it? You can even see the lapels of his jacket and the curve of the wagon roof over his head. How did I miss that? XD No prizes for guessing why Heisenberg might think he's worth including on a conspiracy board!

Most of the rest of the board is covered with photos of various monstrous bio-weapons. Again, this is probably meant to represent a mix of Miranda's work and that of other bio-weapons manufacturers. Someone more familiar with extended Resi-canon than I am might even be able to identify some of these creatures, but none were immediately familiar to me.

Even the one zombie face below that looks almost exactly like a screencap from that first iconic zombie-reveal-scene from the very first Resident Evil turned out not to be (and yes, I checked both the original version and the remake), though it may still be meant to evoke that moment. The photo behind it, meanwhile, looks to be just a pair of soldats.

The other big 'notice me!' feature is, of course, the big map with 'BSAA Come!!' scribbled on it. The circled target location is the ceremony site, identifiable by the four huge statues, and the date at the bottom (February 10, 2020) is the date of Miranda's planned ceremony (tomorrow morning).

Presumably, this is supposed to be a map the BSAA themselves prepared for troop briefings, but no-one's going to get much out of trying to take this thing too literally. Realistically, the only reason "BSAA Come!!" is written in such big letters here is to let the player know at a glance that Heisenberg is clued in enough to be expecting a BSAA assault.

That's about it for really obvious features. There's not a lot else here that the casual viewer is likely to recognise or find particularly significant. But I'm way past 'casual' in over-analysing this damn game, and I can point out a dozen other features on this board that might (or might not) be awash with implications about all the juicy intel Heisenberg's got his hands on.

Basically, it's time to play my favourite game: Cheaply Reused Asset or Significant Callback?

See, much as I'd love for every last detail on this board to be dense with important lore, the reality is that the player gets barely a few seconds to look at this thing in-game, and so most of what's on it was probably thrown together in a hurry by some overworked member of the asset team without much thought. And nothing demonstrates this better than the fact that two different photo clusters (circled below) from the right edge of the board are duplicated wholesale as you move left across the board.

Someone's just copy-pasted these in their entirety, slightly reduced them in size, and assumed no-one would notice. The asset team is only human, and believes in working smarter not harder as much as anyone.

Then there's the fact that a number of other assets you can find on this board are actually posters advertising fishing equipment, which you can find around the reservoir, near where you pick up the boat key.

Why would Heisenberg include these on his conspiracy board? There's no good reason, they're just a convenient assets to fill in some space.

And then there's my all-time favourite random detail on this board ‒ a completely random photo of a bottle of Dulvey Beer, two bags of Half-Whole flour, and a carton of orange juice.

Now, maybe somewhere in these games, you can find these exact items arranged in this position next to never-before-found coded clue to the future of the series! But more likely, this is just the asset team making an inside-joke about asset recycling, using a picture of some of the most oft-reused assets in the game, on a board that's already covered in reused assets from elsewhere. (Look, I thought it was funny, even if no-one else looking at the board is going to get it.)

So, yeah, a lot of what's on this board means nothing, except that whoever made it had limited time and a lot of space to fill. And That's Okay.

But then we get to the stuff where I do really wanna believe its inclusion means something. For one, the board contains copies of both the mission briefing Chris' team is carrying when they abduct Ethan (the one you find by the overtuned truck), and Rose's BSAA-headered medical checkup report.

I already have this whole theory that that same medical report being leaked to Miranda might just be a major unsung catalyst for how she realised Rose's potential, and thus set all the events of the game in motion. So finding that the same report has made it's way onto Heisenberg's conspiracy board is a lovely bit of potential validation. Similarly, the implication that Heisenberg might have known about Chris' mission to Ethan's home before it even happened has some tantalising implications (or maybe he just found it out by the van where Ethan left it).

Rose's medical report isn't the only BSAA-headered document on the board either ‒ there's another on the top right (outlined in yellow) that doesn't correspond to any in-game asset I can find (presumably it wasn't actually needed for whatever it was created for). There's plenty elsewhere in this game to suggest Miranda has contacts in the BSAA feeding her all their secrets ‒ and whether Heisenberg got these reports from Miranda or independently, the fact he's got them at all suggests one hell of an info-leak.

Speaking of Miranda, you can find a couple of copies of some of her own research notes on Heisenberg's board ‒ this is the same asset used in her lab under the graveyard, where you can find notes about her experiments on 'Alcina D'. So that's another interesting file that it makes total sense Heisenberg might include on his board.

The board also includes a couple of extracts from that issue of The Dulvey Daily from Ethan's home, with the article about the closing of the Baker investigation. Realistically, this is likely to be another case of a random asset being used without much thought, but it does make sense that Heisenberg would have followed that investigation (and I can't help but loved that Heisenberg felt the Horn of Plenty article was worth including in his vast conspiracy-network ‒ I told you they were shady!)

You can find bits of a couple of Heisenberg's own Soldat-x-rays on the board too. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but they do look nicely sinister, so onto the board they go! (In multiple places again)

That's about it for assets I could identify. However, there are also a few photos from around the village itself on the board ‒ two of which were evidently screenshots taken from Ethan's own point of view, given that his gun is clearly visible in the bottom left of the screen in customary position. Objectively, this makes no sense, but it sure does add to that "someone's been watching you" atmosphere that any good conspiracy board should aspire to.

(I also feel like I should totally be recognising that doorway in the photo about the 'o' in 'mother', but can't place it.)

And for one final, bizarre detail, you may notice this weird photo of someone's feet appears in a few places on the board. And it's definitely the same photo ‒ the details line up perfectly, right down to the pin and that bit of string. But for some reason, someone's added a lace skirt to the feet in the example on the left.

You can't even see that skirt in the finished board (it's under Miranda's picture), but it amused me nonetheless.

Before we finish, have a few more close-ups on some of the other weird photos you can find on the board.

So, what conclusions can we draw here? There's a ton of detail on Heisenberg's conspiracy board to suggest he (or perhaps Miranda) has access to files from the BSAA and whoever Chris is now working with/for, that he's researched what happened at Dulvey and has certainly helped himself to Miranda's own files, if you'd like to read significance into what was included on the board. But there's also a ton of complete nonsense, so, you know, pretty much just RE lore operating as per usual.

I hope you've all enjoyed my little descent-into-madness while picking this thing apart.

#Karl Heisenberg #Resident Evil #Resident Evil Village #RE assets #The Duke

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redislazy · 2 months ago

Text

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 03

<< Chapter 02　|　Chapter 04 >>

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI > ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

The late morning light filters through the city, casting a muted glow over the winding streets as you make your way to a hidden corner of Istanbul. It’s a place few know, tucked between half-collapsed buildings and overshadowed by a forgotten marketplace that rarely sees life at this hour. You’ve been here before on other mornings, seeking a moment of quiet in a city that never truly sleeps.

You haven’t been able to sleep since Ghost visited your room before dawn, his presence stirring a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that kept you tossing and turning. The gravity of your decision looms over you, and every step feels heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ll find him here. Something about last night—the way his words hung heavy in the air, how he left without waiting for your answer—left a nagging sense that your conversation needs to continue as soon as possible. Ghost might be a ghost to everyone else, but to you, his sudden reappearance has made him an unavoidable presence once more, a shadow that insists on following no matter how far you run.

Your steps are soft and cautious, as you slip past the abandoned vendors’ stalls, your heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination.

You spot him before he sees you, standing at the edge of the alley, half-hidden in the shadows cast by the crumbling stone walls. He’s a dark figure in the early light, his stance rigid, as if he’s both waiting and watching, prepared for anything. And in that moment, you realize he’s just as out of place as you are, a soldier alone in an unfamiliar city, driven by obligations neither of you fully control.

When he finally notices you, there’s no surprise in his gaze, only a flicker of acknowledgment, as though he, too, knew you’d come. It’s an unspoken understanding, the air between you as thick as the stillness of the dawn.

“So,” you start, crossing your arms to steady yourself. “I came to hear you out.” You keep your voice even, masking the frustration that still lingers.

His eyes narrow, studying you with that cold, piercing stare that feels like it could cut through stone. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s going to leave you standing there without an explanation.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and unyielding. “As I mentioned, Aegis has overstepped. They’re not just mercs anymore. They’ve taken on clients who deal in… sensitive intel, information that could tip the scales in the wrong hands. We can’t ignore that.”

It’s not the answer you expected, and for a second, you feel a twinge of doubt. Aegis had always operated in gray areas, but this… this sounds like something darker, something you’d never been privy to. A part of you wants to believe he’s exaggerating, but another part knows better. Ten years with Aegis, and you saw enough to know there were layers you weren’t allowed to question.

“And what, you expect me to help bring them down?” you scoff, the bitterness breaking through.

Ghost’s jaw tightens, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “They're hunting for you, that we already know,” he says, voice edged with blunt certainty. “But you're not one to sit back and wait for them to box you in, are you?”

He studies you, his gaze sharp, as if weighing your next move. “This isn’t about owing anyone or taking orders,” he continues. “It’s about keeping yourself one step ahead. If you want to let them corner you, go ahead. But from what I remember, that’s never been your style. This is your chance."

The challenge is clear, and the implication weighs heavy on you, and it feels like he’s daring you to prove him wrong.

You look away, the resentment and regret swirling together in a mess of tangled emotions. You’d spent years defending Aegis, justifying the choices they made because they’d given you a place when no one else had. But now, standing here, realizing they’ve crossed lines you never agreed to, it feels as if all of it—every mission, every oath—was nothing more than a lie.

Still, the firmness in Ghost’s voice gnaws at you, as if he sees something in you that you’re not sure you’re ready to admit. That maybe he’s right, and maybe you’ve been searching for a way out, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it.

“You say this is my chance, but we both know what it really is,” you murmur, voice soft but sharp. “Another leash. Another game. And when it’s over, you’ll be just like the rest of them, won’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it, his gaze remaining steady. “Maybe. But if you don’t take this chance, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”

The words hang heavy, and you feel the weight of your decision pressing down on you, as unyielding as the stone walls around you. You could walk away, disappear into the city’s shadows once more. Or you could stay, take control of whatever future remains—on your terms, for once.

After a long pause, you nod, a faint spark of resolve lighting up the fatigue that had clouded your heart. “Fine. I’ll consider it. But this time, Ghost… this time, I’m doing this for myself."

Ghost studies you in silence, and this time, he doesn’t rush you. There’s a different kind of resolve in his gaze, as though he knows the weight of what he’s asking.

“You’re not on your own,” he says, voice low but unyielding. “If we’re going to do this, it won’t be overnight. Aegis has a reach, connections—even we don’t know the full extent. We’ll need intel, inside details only you can confirm. This isn’t a takedown; it’s a dismantling, piece by piece. It's going to be a long ride."

The words land heavily, and despite yourself, you feel the faintest flicker of understanding. This isn’t a hasty mission, not something reckless. It’s careful, deliberate.

“What exactly would you need from me?” you ask, your voice measured, uncertain. Ghost catches the hesitation and answers directly, as if sensing your need for clarity.

“First, we need information—details on Aegis’s operations here in Istanbul, who their main players are, any caches or safehouses they might have set up.” He pauses, letting the task sink in. “You know them better than anyone else on the outside. With that intel, we can start building a strategy.”

You absorb his words, realizing that the offer he’s laying out isn’t just another mission—it’s an alliance, one grounded in pragmatism more than trust.

“And the others? Price, the rest of your Task Force?” You half expect resistance, but Ghost’s response is calm.

Ghost’s gaze is steady as he considers your question about Task Force 141. A hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth underneath his balaclava.

“They’re on board,” he says, tone laced with a subtle bite. “Told them I ran into you yesterday. Price and the others agreed to let you help—on one condition.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline.

“They want you under my watch,” he adds dryly, as if the notion is just as irritating to him as it is to you. “Turns out they think it’ll keep things… orderly.”

A bark of a laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “So, I’m back to being your problem?”

“Looks that way,” he replies, his voice dropping to a sardonic drawl. “And don’t think for a second it’s because they’re thrilled about it. They just figure if you go rogue, they’d rather I’m the one who has to deal with you.”

He doesn’t let the words linger long, his expression shifting back to the hard mask you’re used to. “So, whatever you’re thinking—don’t. If you’re in, you’re in my sight at all times.”

You shake your head, stifling a grin. “Lucky me.”

“Likewise,” he deadpans, eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and irritation. The arrangement might be official, but from the look on his face, he’s already prepared for the headache you’ll be giving him.

“So, what now?” you ask, half-committed, half-apprehensive.

“We start slow. Establish patterns, confirm contacts. You’ll need to gather whatever intel you can without setting off alarms.” His tone is firm, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer, almost like understanding. “If this is going to work, we can’t rush it. You do this on your own terms, and we build from there.”

The heavy atmosphere between you eases slightly, though the enormity of the task ahead looms. For the first time in a long time, you’re not running. Instead, you’re standing in place, facing the complexity of a world that had, until now, seen you as disposable. And Ghost—whether he realizes it or not—is offering something rare: a second chance, albeit one layered with caution and calculated risks.

You nod, the decision settling over you slowly, cautiously. “Alright. I’m in. But this doesn’t mean I’m all in with the SAS,” you add, voice guarded. “I’ll help you with Aegis, but that’s all.”

A flicker of approval crosses Ghost’s gaze, subtle yet unmistakable. “That’s all we’re asking.”

He turns to leave, pausing just before he disappears into the city’s dawn-tinged shadows. “Meet me tomorrow. Same place. We’ll go over the first steps then.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you alone to digest the gravity of what you’ve agreed to, the pulse of Istanbul a reminder of the fight just beginning.

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The next day arrives in a veil of quiet anticipation, and before the sun has fully risen over Istanbul, you find yourself stepping into the hidden depths of the Task Force’s temporary base. It’s nothing ostentatious—just an inconspicuous building on the outskirts of the city, concealed behind layers of mundane facades and enough security to keep it under the radar. The narrow corridors, dimly lit and labyrinthine, only add to the strange weight in your chest.

Ghost leads the way without a word, his silent presence commanding as you trail behind him. The base is busy with muffled voices and faint electronic hums, and it’s not long before you turn a corner and see them—Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz—already gathered and waiting in a makeshift meeting room.

Price is the first to look up, his expression neutral, but you catch a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. He’s wearing the same battered cap, his stance as unyielding as ever. “Well, if it isn’t our prodigal merc,” he says, his voice low and carrying amusement. “Back to help clean up a mess left behind?”

The words sting, but they’re not unexpected. Price was never one to sugarcoat anything.

Soap’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze flickering over you with something between curiosity and wariness. “Didn’t think we’d be seein’ you again after…well, y’know,” he says, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thought you’d have gone halfway ‘round the world by now.”

You give a small shrug, keeping your expression carefully composed. “Funny how things turn out.”

Gaz, standing beside Soap, crosses his arms, eyeing you with a critical gaze that feels just a shade warmer than the others. “Guess we all have our reasons for bein’ here,” he remarks, his tone less guarded than his teammates. “But this time, let’s make sure you don't cause us a headache, yeah?"

There’s a brief silence as you absorb the weight of their words, each one a reminder of the tangled history between you and the mission a year ago that set off this chain of events.

Price straightens, looking past you to Ghost. “You truly vouch for her, don't you?”

Ghost doesn’t hesitate. “She knows what’s at stake. And if anyone’s got reason to see Aegis burn, it’s her.” His gaze flickers to you, unreadable behind his mask. “She’s not gonna sit around and let them pin her down. Not her style.”

A low hum of approval rumbles from Soap, who exchanges a look with Gaz. “As long as you’re under his wing,” he mutters, jerking a thumb at Ghost. “Last time, we damn near saw heaven. Not too keen on a repeat.”

Price gives a slight nod, though his expression remains stern. “You’re here because the situation’s changed. We’ll be digging into intel on Aegis, collecting everything we can before we make a move. But if you’re back with us, you’re all in—no lone wolf nonsense.”

You meet his gaze and nod. “Understood.”

Price’s expression softens just slightly, though there’s still a hard edge to his eyes. “Good.”

Ghost leads you through the narrow hallways of the base, stopping in front of a utilitarian room with nothing but a bed, a plain wooden dresser, and a dusty window barely big enough to let in any light. It’s a far cry from luxurious, but it’s quiet and safe.

“This your idea of ‘five-star accommodations,’ then?” you ask, stepping inside and eyeing the bare-bones setup.

Ghost crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Welcome to the high life. Didn’t peg you for the ‘complains about the sheets’ type.”

“Just saying, a few throw pillows wouldn’t kill the SAS’s budget, would it?” you raise an eyebrow, smirking as you catch the faintest hint of amusement beneath his mask.

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Didn’t think a merc like you would care, long as the bed’s solid and the door locks.”

“True, but I thought for someone who’s practically dragged me out of hiding, you’d at least set me up somewhere better than a broom closet.”

“Think of it as a chance to relive your glory days with Aegis,” he counters, shrugging. “Bet their accommodations weren’t much better.”

You chuckle, leaning against the wall with a look of mock disappointment. “Oh, I dunno. Aegis at least knew how to stock a decent stash of coffee.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face as he steps into the room. “Don’t get your hopes up. You’re lookin’ at the last of the rations.” He taps his pocket, producing a small, worn tin of instant coffee packets, the label barely legible. “Courtesy of Price’s ‘emergency stash.’”

“Oh, an SAS delicacy?” you deadpan, folding your arms. “Clearly, I’ve been spoiled.”

“Consider it your initiation,” he shoots back, slipping the tin back into his pocket with an unapologetic shrug. “Besides, no one asked you to have refined tastes.”

“Right, because you lot are just swimming in refinement,” you reply, letting a smirk tug at the corner of your mouth.

He steps forward, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re just lucky there’s a bed at all. Normally, strays don’t get so many perks.”

“Strays? I seem to remember being invited.” You hold his gaze, matching the intensity with a raised eyebrow. “Or was that just an act of desperation?”

He scoffs, crossing his arms as he stares down at you, his posture casual but his gaze locked onto yours. “Desperation? Don’t flatter yourself. If I had my way, you’d be keeping watch outside in the cold.”

You smirk, closing the space just slightly, enough to make his eyes narrow in response. “Well, Ghost, if you had your way, I wouldn’t be here at all, now would I?”

“Damn right,” he mutters, though his voice softens just slightly. He glances toward the door, then back at you, as if sizing you up all over again. “But we’re here now. Try not to get in the way, yeah?”

“Only if you try not to get in mine,” you reply smoothly, crossing your arms as you meet his stare, the tension in the air settling into a familiar, comfortable rivalry.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, then steps back, hands still crossed, his voice low. “We’ll see.”

Ghost lingers by the door, his silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. You shift, crossing your arms as you study him, your voice steady but probing.

“Why did you ask me to work with you once again?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even. “We just ran into each other by chance. If it weren’t for that… Was it really just because I have intel on Aegis?”

Ghost's shoulders tense at your question. He doesn’t respond right away, and you’re almost certain he’ll just walk out. But then he turns, his gaze hard, and something unreadable flickers in his eyes.

“Ran into you or not,” he begins, his voice low, almost guarded, “you're here, and you know more about Aegis than anyone else on the ground.” His tone is measured, deliberate, as though he’s weighing every word. “But this isn’t just intel. You understand how they think, how they’ll react. You’ve survived them so far. That’s something we need.”

You hold his stare, not letting him dodge the question so easily. “That’s all? Just good timing and insider knowledge?”

He lets out a breath, almost an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t a bloody charity if that’s what you’re asking."

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes flicker for a split second, betraying something raw beneath the mask. “You gave off an impression that you wanted to prove you’re more than just some soldier-for-hire. I’m giving you a shot to do that,” he says, his tone rougher.

The air feels thick, every word laced with something unspoken. You swallow, a thousand responses flashing through your mind, but none of them seem quite right. You settle on one. “And here I thought you just missed my company.”

Ghost’s gaze hardens, but a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You wish. The only reason you’re here is to keep Aegis from pulling one over on us.”

His tone is sharp and final, but the way he holds your gaze for just a second longer than necessary leaves you with a feeling you can’t quite shake.

“Get some rest,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, without another word, he slips out, leaving you alone in the quiet stillness of the room, your thoughts spinning in the empty space he’s left behind. You sit on the edge of the bed, a small, satisfied smile crossing your face. It’s strange, but for the first time in months, you almost feel like you're finally able to breathe.

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Dinner finds you seated around a rough-hewn table with Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz, the low buzz of a small heater working against the evening chill in their hidden base. Plates are scattered with an assortment of Istanbul street foods: kebabs, stuffed grape leaves, pide, and a scattering of mezze Price proudly claims he picked up from "a lad down in the market who swore they were the best around." The smell is warm, savory, and oddly comforting.

“Not bad for field rations, eh?” Soap comments, reaching for another helping of hummus. He shoots Price a smirk. “All this effort just to impress us?”

Price grunts, rolling his eyes as he helps himself to a kebab. “You lot eat like you’ve been starved. Figured I’d prevent you from picking the city clean. Besides, thought we’d try somethin’ authentic for once.”

“Authentic, right,” Gaz mutters, inspecting a piece of bread dubiously. “When’s the last time you had a kebab, Price? Not exactly military standard issue.”

“Guess you’ll just have to get used to some culture, Sergeant,” Price retorts with a hint of a grin, passing him the plate.

You can’t help but chuckle at their banter, but then your eyes drift to Ghost as he pulls down his skull balaclava to eat. The motion is surprisingly intimate, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, it feels surreal. The last time you were this close, he had been all business, his face obscured, nothing but a mask of authority. Now, you see the man behind the legend—gruff, rugged, and, unexpectedly, handsome. His strong features, the slight scar tracing his cheek, the way his eyes hold an unsettling mix of warmth and wariness—all of it catches you off guard.

You hadn’t anticipated this; it’s hard to reconcile the imposing figure you remember with the man sitting across from you, eating with the ease of someone who belongs. There’s a strange flutter in your stomach, a mixture of surprise and confusion. Why did you assume he would be just a soldier, tough and unapproachable? It’s a fleeting thought, one you quickly push aside, but it lingers, tugging at something you can’t quite name.

He catches you watching him and gives you a nod toward the plate. “Aren’t you going to eat? Got to keep your energy up.”

You scoff but reach for the food anyway, feeling oddly out of place, yet comfortable. It’s surreal, this easy banter around the table—a sharp contrast to how things were last time you were with them. A year ago, you’d been brought in as nothing more than a liability, someone they held with a mixture of suspicion and restraint. But tonight, it feels… normal. Relaxed, almost.

Soap notices your expression, smirking. “Aye, somethin’ on your mind? Or you just baffled by all this hospitality?”

You raise an eyebrow, aiming for nonchalance. “Guess I’m just waiting for the catch. Hard to believe you lot are sharing food willingly.”

“That, or she’s waitin’ to see if it’s poisoned,” Ghost quips, deadpan. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you realize he’s messing with you.

“Oh, come on, the only thing lethal here is Price’s idea of spice,” Gaz throws in, earning a glare from the captain.

“You lot have no appreciation,” Price grumbles, though there’s an unmistakable warmth beneath his words. “And you—” he says, nodding at you. “You’re part of this now. So sit back, eat, and consider yourself lucky you’re not choking down MREs.”

There’s an ease in his words that’s surprisingly genuine, like he doesn’t question your place at the table. You try to ignore the strange feeling stirring in your chest, but it’s hard not to notice the difference. The camaraderie here isn’t forced, and even if the banter’s sharp, there’s a warmth to it—a sense that you’re part of something again, if only for a while.

“Better enjoy it,” Ghost says quietly, eyeing you with a look that’s hard to decipher. “We’re not exactly in the business of second chances, y’know.”

His words are harsh, but there’s something in his tone—a small, guarded hint that maybe this isn’t just about business. It throws you off-balance, but somehow, you can’t help feeling a strange sense of belonging, even if it's just fleeting.

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“Not the most glamorous work, is it?” Soap’s voice breaks the quiet, his tone laced with sarcasm as he leans over your shoulder, glancing at the endless lines of data on your screen. “Thought you merc types only cared about the big explosions and the payday.”

“Yeah? Keep talking, maybe I’ll start charging by the hour,” you shoot back.

He chuckles, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t tempt me, lass. We’re already paying you in kebabs and a seat at the table, which is more than most get.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a warmth in the banter that feels almost… easy. After all the strained silence and sharp edges of the past, the back-and-forth now has an unexpected comfort to it.

Price walks over, hands on his hips as he surveys the monitors. “What have we got so far?” he asks, his attention shifting from the screen to you.

“Locations Aegis has been using for supplies,” you say, pointing to a few spots on the map. “But these are just guesses. I’d need more than backdoor codes to get us exact details.”

“Better than guesses, though,” Gaz chimes in from across the room. “Most of us wouldn’t even know where to start looking if it weren’t for you.”

You shrug, brushing it off, though his words linger. It’s a strange feeling—being valued, not as a liability or a threat but as part of the team.

“Good work,” Price nods, adding with a wry smile, “though I’d like to see how you handle yourself in a less… academic setting again. We’re heading out tomorrow for a low-profile recon; your expertise will be needed.”

Across the table, Ghost catches your eye, and there’s that faint, unreadable intensity in his gaze again. He says nothing, but the look tells you he’s assessing, weighing. It almost feels like he’s daring you to keep proving yourself.

As the others continue sorting through files and intel, you and Ghost find yourselves momentarily alone, and you can’t help but voice the thought that’s been gnawing at you.

“Are they always like this?” you ask, tilting your head in the direction of Price, Soap, and Gaz, who are laughing about some half-mumbled joke you didn’t quite catch. “I mean, it’s almost… domestic.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, glancing back at the others. “What, expecting us to be a bunch of cold, unfeeling robots?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes. “Considering the whole, you know, secret task force thing… I was expecting a little more ‘strict orders’ and less ‘family dinner.’”

“Don’t be fooled,” he replies, his tone dry but with the faintest glint of amusement. “We’re still all about strict orders when it counts. But,” he adds, almost as if mulling it over himself, “it's different when you’ve got to rely on each other to stay alive. It… builds a sort of bond.”

You nod, absorbing his words. It makes sense—out in the field, your life is in each other’s hands, and that changes things. Still, there’s a warmth here, a camaraderie, that you didn’t expect to find.

“Never seen anything like it,” you admit, your voice softer than you meant. “With Aegis, it was just… who could outlast who. Survive the longest, maybe make a name for yourself.”

He catches your eye, his expression unreadable. “I’m not surprised.”

You watch as Price nudges Gaz with a knowing grin when he tries to sneak the last piece of bread, and Soap rolls his eyes at Ghost’s silent, unyielding presence. It’s a warmth you hadn’t expected—a familiarity you’d almost forgotten was possible.

Looking around, you murmur, “You guys are… close.”

Ghost’s gaze shifts to you, thoughtful, as though considering just how much to reveal. “Closest I’ve ever been with anyone,” he admits, his voice low but firm. “These lads? They’re my brothers.”

He glances around at his team, eyes softer than you’ve seen before. “You don’t survive this long in Task Force 141 without knowing who’ll have your back, no matter what. Price, Soap, Gaz… they’re family. It’s not just about loyalty; it’s knowing you’d take a bullet for them without question. And that they’d do the same for me.”

There’s a brief, raw vulnerability in his gaze that he quickly shields, but you’ve already seen it. It hits you that beneath the layers of armor, the walls, and the mask he wears, Ghost’s loyalty runs deep. His faith in his team isn’t just a matter of trust—it’s a lifeline, one he clings to in the darkest moments.

He clears his throat, shifting his focus back to you, his usual edge returning. “So don’t get too comfortable,” he warns. “These lads may’ve warmed up, but they’re still trained to keep their guard up.”

The weight of his words hits you. Ghost doesn’t let many people in—he’s all walls and shadows, carefully guarded edges. To hear him say this, you can tell it’s not a statement he makes lightly.

“It’s different now,” you say, almost to yourself. “Last time… with Kozlov… you all kept me at arm’s length. Felt like I was walking on eggshells around you.”

Back then, every look they sent your way was cold, every word edged with mistrust. You remember it clearly: no one had gone out of their way to make you feel welcome. It was just a matter of completing the mission and keeping their distance—nothing more.

Ghost glances at you, picking up on the weight behind your realization. “Think you know the answer to that,” he replies quietly. “Back then, you were an unknown; dangerous, unpredictable. Nobody was sure you weren’t playing us for fools.”

“Now?” you ask, still surprised by how easy they all seem with you now. “What’s different?”

Ghost pauses, seeming to consider his response. “You’re still unpredictable,” he says, with that dry edge of humor you’ve come to recognize. “But after all you’ve been through, you’re still here. That counts for something.”

You can’t argue with that; you were playing things close to the chest, keeping secrets that weighed down every move you made. But things feel different now, somehow. It's the first time you want to take matters into your own hands.

As you let Ghost's words process through your mind, you can’t help but feel like an outsider, looking in on something you’ll never truly understand. His loyalty to the others is clear, like a bond threaded so tightly it seems unbreakable. You see it in the way they talk, in the effortless rhythm of their banter, in the comfortable pauses and easy laughter they share. They’re more than just teammates—they’re a family, one that’s been shaped and strengthened by every battle, every mission, every risk they’ve taken together.

And as much as you try to brush it aside, the reality stings. They’re all so fiercely loyal to one another, something you’ve never really known. Over the years, you’ve been surrounded by colleagues, acquaintances, and alliances built more on necessity than trust. But this? This is different. They’re bound by more than duty or obligation, by a camaraderie you can’t quite touch.

You steal a glance around the table, wondering if you’ll ever find a place like this. Will you ever have the kind of trust that doesn’t have to be questioned, the assurance that someone’s got your back, no matter what? A familiar ache pulls at you—a quiet, persistent longing. You try to shake it off, but it clings, a reminder of how far you are from the closeness they share.

Ghost glances at you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read the thoughts etched on your face. But he says nothing, just gives a slight nod, as if acknowledging your presence here—temporary, uncertain, yet tolerated for now.

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Author's Note: i guess i should be tagging this as a slow burn lolol i’m honestly so glad i’ve written several chapters in advance; it makes sticking to an upload schedule way easier since i only need to focus on proofreading. also, just a heads-up: i take back what i said about the rest of Task Force 141 having a minimal role, i decided to make them a tad bit more involved in the story after all. and to those of you reading along, thank you so much for checking out this fic! you have no idea how much i appreciate it <3

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kronoose · 6 months ago

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Just thinking about the hunger from Taz balance

And how John the person who called this being into existence ended up not existing for god knows how long+ 30 years constantly chasing the only thing that can satisfy it's hunger

Only to be pulled away from the mass just to talk with an old guy who is trying to get Intel on how to get rid of it John's life work

Also the homoerotic/intimate tension between the them because there's nothing gayer then killing a guy atleast 50 times And him consistently coming back /j and no one else can access the Parley also it's implied that Merle is shirtless every time

Until John is a giant dick to Merle and Merle's like nah I don't need to take this

Which is vastly contrasted by their scene in the final arc of them sharing that intimate space one final time both vastly different yet still sharing that bond from the half century they spent together playing chess and talking not only the charecters themselves but the space of Parley which for the stolen century was an official kinda meeting room because John was the one who was meant to be at ease and was the one being on pulled into talk

But when Merle is summoned they're on a beach at sunset

John being so far gone from himself but still not wanting to be alone before he's absorbed into the finality of the hunger dispite his belief that living is horrible and the hunger is the only real way to exist

And Merle who is a father who has just spent the last year saving the world and a man of the cloth who had been cut off from his divinity the only thing that has been a constant for him his whole life after learning the life he knew for the last decade ish was built on a betrayal of the person he was objectively the closest to of the crew (I could go into detail about that but that's for later)

Two people so Lost in their own existences so much more traumatized but still finding comfort in the other

It makes me wonder if Merle ever tried to Parley after they sealed the hunger away just to see John again for that comfort

Also I saw a post when looking for spellings that asked why Merle didn't kill John in the Parley space And someone went off on Merle for missing the point of Parley

It got me very steamed

because in the rules of Parley and why it is such a huge deal is because the caster cannot harm the guest they bring in

You are putting your very existence on the line for peace with the other

Which unless you have a ship that revives you annually to a consistent reminder of the worst day of your life is a huge deal

#taz balance #taz merle #john taz #taz spoilers

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sacredglitch · 1 year ago

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i have eeped, woken up and cried

I have some thoughts. MW3 spoilers below.

Major thing out of the way; everyone is gonna experience the campaign at different lengths depending on skill and difficulty they choose. I started around 9/10pm and finished at 5am, so it took me quite some time, predominantly with issues in the Weapons Free missions and the Ally AI just never backing me up? Felt a lil like Rudy in the Ghost Team mission yknow?

But it was a fun experience in gameplay standpoint. There was elements of both MW and MWII alongside some new things that I still gotta get used to once MP drops. But story wise?

Something felt weird. Like it wasn't as consise as MWII with its storytelling. All that took, what? A few days? Maybe even weeks to come to completion. With this game, bar the flashback mission, I never knew how closely related each mission was unless it was explicitly clear, like Passenger and the mission with Farah inspecting the debris. You know that was only hours apart from one another.

Characters also felt a little odd. Like there was moments where it felt like yeah, these are the crew I know and others where it's like....who am I listening to right now? There was just an air of tension with it all, and yes with who they were dealing with ofc there's tension...but idk again the flow wasn't there like the other two games.

Okay elephant in the room; Soap and Makarov. The amount of times Soap was on the verge of whipping out his pistol or knife and just ending it and no one letting him? If Makarov was such a major threat; sometimes the information he may or may not have had just isn't worth it. Thousands would be alive if Johnny was just let loose and take out the trash. But because he wasn't he's now dead.

And Makarov lives. What the fuck, Activision? Infinity Ward? Fucking Sledgehammer?! What was the point of killing off someone who they know damn well is beloved in the fandom (yes, he died in the OG but hear me out) as is his actor, let the baddie get away, and then just....end it with the 141 spreading his ashes. No revenge for Soap, no honouring what he wanted from the beGINNING, no nothing. Just somewhat dull words from the team, his ashes spread and roll credits.

It's giving rushed story for no fucking reason. I wouldn't be so mad if they just did something after that. Sure, one could say this is them building up to MWIV but it also could have been dealt with one more mission. It truly feels like a slap to the face for the fans, cause we know OG Soap's death was agonising but it had its resolution with Price honouring his men.

If this was the second game then it would also make more sense, build up to the conclusion. But no, this was what most of us expected to be the big finale of Makarov and this current story of Modern Warfare, and it wasn't. Just more prolonged waiting that they're probably going to rush to get out next year. It's truly a shame on the big trio working on this game, but also towards the new fans and in my eyes, Neil too. This was his big break in sorts and it's clear by fan interaction he loves being Soap. I'm glad he seems to be the main protagonist of Zombies which makes me hope he'll be in more things or some pre campaign things but damn. Imagine getting the role of a beloved character, giving them an incredible performance just to be shot point blank and given a dull ending. That would make me feel betrayed but ofc I won't speak for Neil, I have 0 clue how he feels on all this. Hell he could be all for it. Just...truly sucks from a fans perspective.

One final thing is the questions and confusion that ig are open ended because whoop de doo another game, more cash for Activision. For starters; who was the 'Shadow' giving Makarov intel? Was it supposed to be Shepard? Considering he was kidnapped and all that would make sense, but Makarov specifically said Shadow. In my eyes if he had meant Shepard, he would have said US Official or something.

Speaking of Shadows; why did Graves sell him out? What's he gonna gain from that? A redemption arc? Fuck that shit I didn't spend almost two hours fighting the tank for him to come back and be all "am sowwy"

Was Urzikstan truly cleared of any wrong doing or is it one of those things where it's like "Welp it's one General's word against our opinions". Also not to get into irl things but seeing some of the stuff during the Passenger mission had me thinking of how the world is currently with certain ongoing fights. Sometimes COD gets the realism down.

Maybe it was because of the situation they were in and how big the threat was, but there wasn't much of a dynamic going on with the teams. At most, there was some Soap and Ghost banter, and then Graves with his Shadows but that was kinda it. No idle chatter just head in the game type of deal. Does make sense ofc but maybe that's why the characters really felt off at times.

One that's just a personal thing; since it's confirmed that at least in 2019, Price, Soap and Ghost knew one another, makes sense cause the trio were SAS, but it's got me thinking why is Ghost the only one allowed to call him Johnny? It was teased in MWII with the interaction in Prison Break but...it's not been elaborated on. Even Price, when Soap was losing his shit over Makarov in the Heli, called him John.

What did Ghost do or say that Soap decided he could allow him to call him Johnny? This isn't anyway me asking "OooOO, are they fruity???" no I'm curious. If it was a thing he allowed his superiors that he was friendly with to say, then Price would be included that. Alejandro and Rudy would be included. What makes Ghost so special?

The last thing that my grief riddled mind can think of is where is Soap's family? I don't think I can truly believe he doesn't have one. It's canon he joined because of his cousin so...why was the 141 the ones to spread his ashes? Again it could have been his wish and all...shit just also adds to the rushed story feeling. I ain't asking for the MacTavishs to make an appearance or be canon or whatever but as someone who has a loved ones ashes, the small urn you get would have made more sense. That they decided with the ashes his family gave them to throw them off the cliffside in what I assume is Scotland.

If he didn't have family then holy shit it makes his death even more hurtful but no way impactful.

I'm just rambling angrly now so I'll stop my thoughts. Overall the game was fun, interesting concept with the Weapons Free missions but the story was lackluster compared to the previous games, as well as a slap to the face for Soap's character. It was just there for the sake of sadness.

I wasn't expecting a happy ending, I was just hoping for a honourable conclusion.

#rambles to the void #cod mwiii #cod mw3 #cod mwiii spoilers #cod mw3 spoilers #this is all just a vent instead of a reflection over things #im also just not really up for debating how the game was paced or if some found it fine or whatever #im too tired for it #im just putting out my feelings #also was it worth the 100 quid?#no #70 maybe for vault #but not 100 #if there's a 4th I'm not doing vault edition until well later in its release if at all

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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago

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If you’ve seen season 15 of Halo RvB, would you mind doing a yandere!Temple with a freelancer darling? I imagine he’d freeze their armor but keep force feeding them to stop them from ever leaving, and if it’s when Wash and Carolina show up, they beg them for help only for Temple to freeze them both and get pissed at the darling for trying to run.

I'm half way through Season 15 part 2 but come ON, how could I NOT write him? His theme is amazing and when he revealed himself? Yes! He is such a good antagionist, of course I'm going to write for him!

If he's OOC, my bad. Feel free to let me know as I have not completed Season 15 fully yet. I got really excited :)

Yandere! Mark Temple with Freelancer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Kidnapping, Murder, Starvation, Forced kissing/affection, Manipulation, Forced relationship, Sadism, Love/hate relationship, Slight force feeding/mouth-to-mouth feeding mentioned.

You make Temple feel so conflicted.

Don't get him wrong, he hates Freelancers and everything that has to do with them.

You... he has no idea what to do when he sees you.

Agent (State Name), a Freelancer who was never all that competitive and preferred to gather intel rather than fight.

You were not up to the Director's standards compared to agents like Carolina, Tex, or Washington....

It was funny to him how innocent you acted.

It's such a shame you had to be a Freelancer....

Temple at first wanted to kill you.

After what Freelancers did to him, did to his friend, he wanted them gone.

When he lured you in with a manipulative tongue and pathetic ruse of innocence... he had one goal in mind.

Make you suffer like the others.

Have you rot in your armor and kept as a trophy.

Then you had the nerve to be so nice.

To be so sympathetic to him.

He's unstable, deranged, a soldier meant for revenge.

When he feels you pat his back and act all friendly...

It both burned and felt pleasant.

You're a Freelancer, his sworn enemy, and he can't bring himself to pull through anymore.

He prolongs your visit in an attempt to learn more.

Your skills, your armor enhancements... he lies to learn more of you, his supposed enemy.

You see Temple as the little guy.

You want to look out for him.

You have no idea what he's capable of.

Despite what Freelancers do to Simtroopers in his mind, he slightly admires how much you care.

You're different from the rest in his eyes.

But your fate is oh so similar.

He lures you in to his chamber of trophies.

You're impressed by the armor at first... before realizing they're your friends.

"Let's be honest, they were never your friends. They were killers like you. But I think they were worse than you. At least you ACT like you care."

Temple quickly drops his facade and makes his intentions clear.

The smell of rot fills your nose, making you bend over in an attempted gag.

"Pose for me, will you? I want you to look the best out of all of them."

You expect when he freezes your armor he'll leave you to die.

To let you endure the smells and pain of starvation.

Temple's merciful with you, however.

He's strangely affectionate.

Except he talks down to you, treating you less than you are.

"Poor baby... unable to fend for yourself now, huh? Can't even eat without me...."

Temple grows this twisted relationship towards you.

You're a Freelancer and he hates that...

But he also begins to love you.

Temple always prepares food for you (usually fish) and removes your helmet, feeding you.

He never takes it off long, giving you a quick kiss or holding your face for a moment before putting it back on.

He loves the pose you're forced in... like a living statue.

You outshine them all in this room, a star amongst your peers.

He stays in the room sometimes just to talk and rant to you.

If it wasn't clear, Temple is so unhinged he'd stay in a room full of corpses to watch you.

"Why so sad? The gang's all here! Aren't you happy? It's okay... I'm here. I'll make it all better for you, honey."

This is before Washington and Carolina.

When Temple freezes them, he keeps you far away from them.

"You don't get to talk with them. Only me. They aren't your saviors...!"

He insults the two other Freelancers in front of you.

He takes all his rage out on them before coming to you and being all affectionate.

It's scary... he gets so angry-

Then he calmly walks to you, holding your helmet and murmuring delusional praises.

"You're not like them... you're different now that I have you."

He probably would not take you out of the room due to the armor lock technology.

The smell of corpses no longer bothers you.

You'll also get used to Temple's ramblings and voice.

If only you could flinch away from his touch.

His kisses feel so... desperate.

As if he's trying to change his own mind for how he feels about you... or yours.

Temple doesn't tell the Blues and Reds about you.

Far as they know you're dead.

It's weird that Temple goes into that room so often though.

Temple's love for a Freelancer! Darling would be a love/hate relationship.

He doesn't want to acknowledge he feels different about you... yet-

He can't stop obsessing over you in that room.

He even tried to mouth feed you at one point.

Overall, Temple keeps you alive like a living statue.

The idea of you needing him to survive excites him...

Keeping you is the sweetest revenge.

"Love you, baby... love the pose, too~ Did you do it just for me?"

#yandere halo rvb #yandere halo red vs blue #yandere mark temple

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juncojuncojunco · 2 years ago

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remembrances of earth's past initial concluding thoughts （xxxx)

very rough thoughts before I read/watch a bunch of other people's reactions/analyses, not anything analytical about plot/style/character/etc, just strings i found intriguing

very obviously this is a first contact story where humanity never meets its original pursuers. there is such a deep yearning and loss (for each other!) that pulls across the centuries of the narrative, even after both homeworlds are destroyed. the dance between earth and trisolaris is just so confoundingly complex--fear, admiration, concern, intimacy, distrust, mutually parental. the first thing that comes to mind is the chinese phrase 惺惺相惜 (星星!), to be concerned for, appreciate, and sympathize with another of equal caliber. from the first moment of contact-Ye Wenjie bruised enough from humanity's brutality towards her that she wants divine intervention-Trisolaris greeted Earth with a warning for them to quiet down in a universe on edge for the faintest snap of a branch. That just makes me so emotional man, even if Trisolaris as a whole decided to, as all civilization would, attack and take over the solar system.

Earthers getting to know/introducing people to Trisolaris through a video game. through a game where the aliens look like their historical heroes and figures. goddamn. Earth sending a brain to the enemy on a pipe dream that the brain will someday bring them intel, even knowing that the most likely thing to happen to the brain is that it will be studied and tortured and make their enemy understand them more deeply. trisolaris decoding the brain and its owner's biology and building him a body and a habitat below the engine of their generation ship. letting him have a chance at speaking with a woman and possibly releasing intel back to earth (which did happen! and they didn't even punish him when Cheng Xin arrived at the DX world with curvature propulsion technology). the soil and the logo-less life necessities trisolarans built for the potential human dwellers in the miniverse 647. Sophon existing as a sophon, as a robot, as a genocidal commander, as a... friend? for the last humans in the universe? my god.

are the characters realistic? no not really, but it doesn't really hinder the reading when it's so obvious they're just dust in the story of time and embody archetypes and a responsibility to history rather than to themselves. the best and worst of humanity portrayed in all 3 books were all about what I expected, it's just that the relationship between earth and trisolaris is just so so so so ...? trisolaris being a completely transparent race in book 1 who aren't even capable of lying, to trisolaris who even under the threat of a dark forest strike lies to Earth with the false technologies and research they send? That is a monster humans built with their own hands. some guy in the ETO said their lord was a naive child against the mind of a human. humans singlehandedly created a monstrous trisolaris who lies about the droplets left surveilling the earth, who lies and takes out the entire earth's space fleet in 10 minutes as soon as the swordholder changed hands. But earth also gave them art and music and stories, and if Yun Tianming meant it literally he also invented childhood for them? That is so so so so !

all the moments that I would read a whole epilogue/side story on:

Yun Tianming's fairytales, also his entire story after becoming just a brain. i'm doubtful if its really even him as we know it after revival--he was so so pessimistic about humanity and realized he meant nothing to Cheng Xin, his sunniness when they met again just doesn't check out. I just can't see how it's him. It makes more sense even for that body to be controlled by Trisolaris, who somehow has decided to communicate with humans through their likeness? The way they turned Sophon into a human robot?

What happened between Luo Ji and his wife/kid

Wang Miao who just disappeared after book one? wish Da Shi didn't abruptly drop after deterrence era too

more about what Blue Space and Gravity went through

AA and Yun Tianming in planet blue, waiting their whole lives together. all the things they would have told each other!!

a depiction of a 2 dimensional civilization would have been nuts

also, ending a story about a dark forest universe where its civs only care about their own survival, coming together (presumably) to abandon their private universe strongholds so the great universe could hold on and not expand infinitely into a dead world? ending a story where you risk death if you spoke a single word into the void of the dark, with an immense energy expenditure message to all the small universes, in millions of languages? god.

maybe there will be more organized reflection maybe this is just it! regardless, i'm thinking about this story forever !!!

#books #if ur not one of the 1.2 followers of this blog and found this thru a book tag pls dont take this seriously its just a strangers word vomit #thx

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jcbbby · 2 years ago

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i was hoping you could try to write a smut alphabet nsfm with jamie campbell bower 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

hello there! my hotel room in Sweden is too damn hot and I can’t sleep, and I have a couple requests for this in my inbox, so I figured I’d give it a go. truthfully I had no idea what this meant....so I did some, you know, scientific research and y'all are WILD and horny.

but I aim to please, so... without further ado....my thoughts on NSFW Jamie alphabet. just my guesses, obviously do not have much actual facts or intel on this. feels a bit weird trying to lay out the details of the sex life of someone who does not know I exist BUT it’s all in good fun right? ;)

jesus, please close your eyes and look away for a minute....

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jamie's a cuddler, for sure. Things may get pretty heavy, but afterwards, he wants you to feel safe and cared for. You may have just done the nastiest, kinkiest shit of your LIFE. But Jamie is still going to caress you softly, give you lil kisses all over, tell you how beautiful you are, and how great you did.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jamie's favorite body part for himself is his eyes. He loves being able to gaze over you, memorizing every curve of your body, watching you enjoy the pleasure he's giving you. He doesn't have a favorite body part on you, you're entire form is perfection in his eyes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

There's no doubting he knows how to bring a partner to the best orgasm of their life. My mans has been around the block. He's also very communicative, he wants you to tell him what makes you feel good and how to get you there.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

For sure, absolutely, no doubt has done the dirty at an event, either in a bathroom or in a car. I will not be convinced otherwise.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Honey, he's a pro. He exudes sexual confidence. We all know what’s up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hitting it doggy style never gets old when you just wanna go to town and get wild with the other, but there are times when the mood calls for something more sensual and intimate. Sometimes he just wants to hold you tight, his face buried in your neck leaving love bites, whether it be sitting, standing, or laying down.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As we've established, Jamie is no stranger to a sexual encounter. He is no stranger to the straight up weird and gross happenings that come along with getting busy. Even when he's in dom mode, he's the first to let out a chuckle and crack a joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I get the feeling he manscapes, at least keeps it tidy for the most part, but isn't embarrassed to just let bodies do what they do. I also firmly believe that he isn't averse to his partner having body hair and doesn't care at all if they're not totally shaved.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jamie can give you the best of both worlds. He can give you the rough, teasing, dirty talking sex. He can give you sensual, you're so fucking beautiful, I love you sex. He goes off of your vibe to make you feel good in whatever way you need.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Phone sex is always a go with Jamie when you're apart. Also get the sense he may be into mutual masturbation on occasion, just watching you pleasure yourself would send him off the rails.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

King of kink. My guy loves bondage, loves edging, loves being a dom, LOVES to discipline you if you're being a brat. Totally could see him being down for a threesome, male or female.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nothing beats your own bed, or a hotel room in a new city.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn't take much to get Jamie going, he's very easily turned on by you. Sometimes it'll be you wearing his favorite tight outfit, or sometimes it'll be you fresh out of the shower in just a towel. He loves hearing you moan and seeing how good he's making you feel, as you're calling out his name.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jamie is very adventurous in the bedroom and there's really almost nothing that would be off limits, so long as you're into it too. He would never force anyone to do anything they were uncomfortable with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Yo okay 100% this man eats pussy. I don't know any other way to put it, this man HELLAAAAAAAAAA eats pussy. I've never been more sure of anything in my life that James Metcalfe Campbell Bower KNOWS how to give some world class head. He also LOVES to have the favor returned, but I sense he would choose to go down on you first.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jamie can be both, whatever feels right. He can be rough and fast if you just wanna go at it. But if you’ve had a long day and he wants to make you feel good or if he’s feeling particularly in love with you, he can be gentle and passionate just as easily.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are good. Always up for a quickie. Prefers having plenty of time to tease and fool around, most definitely, but if you’re in he’s in.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely down. If there’s something new to try out, and you’re down with it, it’s game on baby.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as you can go, he will match you, and that’s a promise, babes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There is a grand selection of accessories. He loves using toys on you and watching you squirm and react to them. Handcuffs are frequently used.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Once again, edging is a biiiiig thing. He will tease letting you finish because it drives the both of you wild. He also loves being a dom and having a brat try to talk back to him so he can punish them in the most delicious ways.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not shy about his own vocalizing and he LOVES hearing you too, especially if you’re moaning his name. God does he love that. He is into dirty talk and praising, and he’ll ask you often if that feels good and if you like that, both for his own sexual ego and to make sure he’s doing good himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon)

Like I mentioned, I could absolutely see Jamie having a threesome, of any gender combo. He’s a guy who just likes to make people feel good and he’s very comfortable with his sexuality.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I bet average, nothing too crazy. A very satisfying average. All that matters is that he def knows how to use it, babe.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Definitely pretty high, but I don’t think it’s like he wants it all the time or that he’d be overwhelming you with pressure to bang 24/7. But if you’re giving the vibe you’re down, he has no second thoughts and is immediately into it. He just wants to be close to the person he feels most intimate with and to make them feel good, or exploring the exciting dynamic of power and consent, if that’s how the mood is feeling.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I feel like he’s not the type to fall asleep right after. I get the sense that he would be down to cuddle and be lovey or at least offer praise afterwards, maybe even share a snack depending on how rigorous the activities were. He would make sure you were feeling satisfied and safe before knocking out, for sure.

#Jamie Campbell bower smut

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griffle-musings · 2 years ago

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FTMWU: Dragon Babbies

Currently, a Tumblr only story in the Fly Through Universe, set a bit further along in the storyline.

They all had their deal with magic users.

Granted, few and far between- while Gotham attracts the bizarre and dangerous, most magic users, even malevolent, cited a lack of desire to call Gotham 'home.' The Paranormal and Supernatural, common tangents, of course- ghosts, both figurative and literal, hung around each corner, Batman himself used to be considered more myth than man, but magic, true, honest magic, often chose a different place than the city of Gotham. One might say that perhaps due to Jason Blood's own residency made most others wary, but one could say that it was probably also the traffic, pollution, hostility towards strangers via the locals, and general possessive hostility of Gotham that took the shape of a man dressed as a Bat that seemingly made most Magic took a look at Gotham, and run the other way.

But still some foolhardy people would come and try and take over Gotham. Or would assume that it would be alright to smuggle magical items via the Docks. Or laughed when others would mention Batman, citing impossibilities, ironically.

Overall, most Bats (and Birds) would agree that while they handled a bit of magic users, they weren't as readily handled as one would say, John Constantine.

So one could excuse when two got caught in the magical spell.

---

It was meant to be a slow night.

Bruce rolls his back, feeling his frustration grow. Beside him, Cass nudges his shoulder in solidarity, and he's positive that if he turned, he'll see the familiar cocked head of her own version of a masked grimace, a concession and frustration of the lack of action. On one hand, it's a relief, to not be in the midst of an outbreak or deterring a Rogue plot. On the other- both him and Cass had been on stakeout for the past two and half hours, and while, yes, he had been on stakeouts for far longer, the Intel said there was supposed to be an exchange happening tonight, which means that they were either played or been caught out.

Eventually, even he has to call it a wash, shifting his body in a way that Cass can easily tell- pack up, time to head home.

Just as they're stretching out their limbs, the coms crackle to life.

"Batman, Black Bat, report," Oracle's digitized voice comes in their ears. "Confirmation needed."

"Batman here, no injuries to confirm," he glances over to Cass, who merely clicks her comm three times. A-ok. "We're about to head back."

"Good," Oracle is blunt, in a way that's concerning him. Barbara isn't like this unless. "Red Robin and Robin got hit with a magic spell and are down for the night."

He feels his heart clench. "How bad?" He remembers how much Tim was looking to this night, of patrolling with Jenna. "She's growing up," he had admitted wistfully, watching an earlier training session with her and Damian, eyes a bit misty as she slammed a knee to Damian's solar plexus, attempting to maneuver herself into an upright triangle choke. "She's getting older, and- I guess I kind of miss…well." He shrugged, grin still a bit lopsided as Damian deftly grabbed her leg, throwing her across the training area. She landed on her feet with grace, rushing forward to attack Damian once again. "She's a busy young lady. I'm just glad we can patrol when we can."

He'd made a mental note to try and partner them up more- except now it seems that perhaps it wasn't the best plan, because they were both incapacitated.

It has to be bad, he deduces. If Oracle is radioing them to come home early, if it was bad enough to call the entire family- he knows Barbara, she probably called all of them back, especially if there's a rogue magician on the loose- they aren't prepared, not fully, and Blood or Zatanna will have to be called, or possibly Constantine...

"Just…" and there was a strangled cough. "You definitely want to get over here."

Both of them look at each other, and leap off the edge.

---

It was the fastest time they've arrived.

Tires squealing, Cass leaps effortlessly out of the still moving vehicle, bounding up to the small huddle on the main platform.

He moves as quickly as he can, moving faster as he sees Cass get to the platform and-stills.

Not for the first time, he sends a wordless prayer that it something- manageable. That his family was still whole and not-

He nearly barrels into Dick, who's half out of his costume, and there's a glint in his eye that makes him pause. He sees how Dick is valiantly attempting to keep his face neutral, although it's hard to see how much he's charmed by- something. He feels something in his chest loosen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, because while it's obviously not a serious emergency, it was an emergency. There's a reason Oracle called off patrol early.

"Just-" Dick bites his lip, and waves over to where there's an opening and- oh.

In the middle of the circle is what could only be a dragon, vibrating the floor with what Bruce can only classify as "purrs." They're a mixture of black scales with black fur running down it's spine, leading from a tuft on their curled tail to a mane curling around their head. Two onyx horns rise from the mane, curving yet pointed. Surprisingly, they don't have wings, and honestly look more mammalian than reptilian, with a rather rounded muzzle, and stout legs. They had a tuft of fur on their tail.

The dragon wasn't looking at any of the group, seemingly more invested in grooming the most disgruntled baby dragon Bruce's ever seen. Unlike the bigger dragon, who was probably the size of a leopard, the baby was probably the size of what Bruce assumes to be what a leopard cub was, and a bit round in the stomach, different from the older dragon's sleeker form. They were upturned onto their back, showing a tan underbelly as a long red-pink tongue carefully and continually groomed them, steam rising from where the tongue licked. Their coloring was a more muddy looking brown-black than the midnight black of the older dragon, and he didn't need to see the two green eyes glaring balefully from the baby dragon's face to put two and two together.

"Has Zatanna been called?" He sighs, as Tim deftly flips Jenna back over, running his tongue over the hair across her spine, an interesting ombre effect of black to her natural brown. Jenna lets out a yowl, very much displeased, and tries her best to escape the onslaught of grooming, but alas, all Tim has to do is place a gentle paw over her spine and continue to give her a tongue bath. He can practically hear the hearts in everyone's eyes at the display. Stephanie and Duke already had their phones out, taking as many shots as they could.

"She's a munchkin," he hears Jason murmur, sounds as enamoured as he did around fast cars and puppies. "She's a tiny, itty-bitty munchkin. She has baby fat. Goddamn this is so fucking cute."

"Precious Baby," Cass agrees, kneeling down. The older dragon gives her a quick glance, then right back to his grooming session. Cass smiles. "You look good."

The dragon flashes their teeth, as if giving Cass a toothy grin.

"This isn't permanent?" Bruce glances to Dick, because while, yes, it was very cute, he didn't want Tim and Jenna to stay like this forever.

"Yeah, Zatanna said it wasn't permanent, she'll call back later for a longer explanation though" Dick replies, more absent-minded as usual as he continues to gaze at the two dragons. "But it will take some time." He turns with a grin. "Something tells me Jenna is probably more pissed about this than Tim."

As he watches Tim continue to give happy clicking chirps and purrs over her growls and yowls, Bruce had to concede that Dick had a point.

#ftmwu #dc #batman #parent tim drake #jenna oc

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its-venusbby · 2 years ago

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Kidnapped

Specialist Cameron Riley

Call Sign Raven

In the passing time, Simon and Cameron managed to patch up a large part of their relationship. Some counseling and trauma dealing helped them both, but more so Cameron than anything. Tensions still ran high on occasion, but it was nothing they couldn't handle.

Today was one that put tensions running high, but not because of fighting. A small group of them would be going to retrieve information about the possible safe houses Makarov would be using. If the information was true, then they could have the man pinned.

Cameron had her suspicions, for information so crucial to be falling into their laps so easily felt like a trap. Price reassured them that it was coming from a good source and they had everything under control. The General, of course, didn't care as long as it meant Makarov would be taken down. After she geared up, she snagged her scarf and threw it around her neck before waiting on her brother.

Simon met Cameron just outside of her room and the two walked to the heli, talking quietly amongst themselves. They shared concerns for the mission, but they had no say. Reaching their transport, they found Soap, Price, and Gaz waiting for them. Cameron gave the boys a nod, Gaz avoiding eye contact.

"Let's get going, our window is short," Price grunted as the blades came to life. Ghost hopped up first, pulling his sister up behind him. Cameron adjusted her scarf to cover her lips and nose, leaving nothing but piercing baby blues showing. The ride was rather silent, the mission already well known. Cameron would be their hero today, getting into the systems and getting the hell out. Ghost was to provider sniper cover and the others would be protecting Cameron.

"LZ is just ahead," the pilot called out. "Get ready to hit the ground and move," Price called as he tossed out the ladder. He went down first, waiting as Cameron made the next rappel down. He helped her off and watched as his crew touched one by one.

"Ghost, your vantage point is just to the east, You'll see the setup with a clear view of where you need to cover. Soap, you'll be on point. Don't let anything happen to Raven, she's getting our intel. Stay Frosty," Price said as the group jumped quickly into action.

Ghost gave his sister's hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the foliage and to his vantage point. "Let's move," Soap murmured as he took point, leading the group single file through the thickly wooded area. A lone house sat in a clearing, and Cameron's mind screamed danger.

"It's too quiet sir," she mumbled softly, her accent thick in her concern.

"Just keeping pushing Raven," Gaz encouraged as the group came to the clearing.

"Go, get Raven inside," Price barked as the group took off into a sprint. Cameron slid into the house silently checking her corners and giving a nod. "All clear, moving to the desk," she said softly through the coms. She worked quickly and efficiently, her hands moving across the keys with ease.

"I'm in. Files are downloading to the hard drive," she informed the group as she crouched protectively in front of the desk.

"Looks like you have a small convoy coming in from the west, possible patrol. See if they pass, try not to engage." Ghost's voice crackled through the earpiece and Cameron gave a small curse.

"I've almost got it... 4... 3... 2... it's done," she mumbled triumphantly as she pulled the hardware and shoved it into her pocket, making sure it was secure.

"Try to stay low, it looks like they're just doing a quick sweep.... loading back up- wait there's another convoy. Shit, they know something is up! They're circling the house, prepare to engage!"

Ghost felt a pang of fear in his gut as he watched the men get into a position to potentially take over the position. He lined up his first shot, watching the man fall to the ground. One down, he thought. The men started looking for the sniper which gave the group inside the advantage.

They opened fired, Cameron shooting from behind cover. "Don't let them get Raven, she has what we need," Price called through the comms over the sound of gunfire. "They're in the house, I repeat they're in the house!"

Cameron started to move, attempting to regroup. In the commotion, she didn't realize she had fallen behind as the rest of the group moved to the back to run to the pickup point. Before she could get far, she felt a searing pain in the back of her head. She tried to call out, but a hand covered her mouth and she felt herself growing rather sleep. She weakly attempted to push the hand away before she felt someone dragging her away.

"Makarov always gets what he wants," the voice grunted as Cameron fell unconscious.

xXx

Captain John MacTavish

Call Sign Soap

"Raven? Raven do you copy," Soap called. The group had gotten separated int he chaos, Soap taking heavy fire with Gaz while Price was attempting to flank and protect.

"Does anyone have eyes on Raven," Soap asked, looking around. She was just with them, and now she was gone?? What could have happened??

As quickly as that thought came, however, he noticed the group of soldiers starting to retreat. Soap stood up swiftly as he watched the convoys peeling away. "Does anyone copy? Can we get a track on those vehicles?"

"Where the bloody hell is my sister," Ghost demanded into the comms as the static started to get worse. Soap bolted into the house with Price on his heels.

"RAVEN?!"

Silence.

Moving to the computer, Soap felt something crunch under his boot. He looked down and noticed the small silver communicator that was Cameron's. He picked it up, his eyes studying the area. On the ground nearby was a simple silver ring he recognized, it was one Cameron often wore around her neck on a chain.

As the realization hit them, Soap felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Ghost get to the pick up. They have Cameron, we don't have time to waste."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty oc #cameron grace riley #cod mw #simon ghost riley #vladimir makarov

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addictedtostorytelling · 3 years ago

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What are your thoughts after the new trailer.

hi, anon!

here's the link for anyone who hasn't seen it yet.

here's my rundown:

this trailer gives us the best overview of the case we've had so far: the fabrication dates back over twenty years—i.e., right to the start of the original series, when grissom became night shift supervisor—and 8,000 convictions stand to be overturned. internal affairs is investigating the case as a potential conspiracy. maxine roby's job is on the line, and she, grissom, sara, and others may also be criminally implicated.

the fabrication is not simply administrative in nature—i.e., it's not just false documents inserted into old case files after the fact; it was perpetrated on the ground, in the form of staged crime scenes (hence grissom and sara's frantic discussion about knowing what a staged scene looks like). as brass describes, the fabricator(s) used counterfeit documents, stolen evidence, and genuine lab equipment, meaning that the fabrication has been perpetrated on every level, from collection to processing to prosecution.

the guy holding the press conference—possibly the head of i.a.? the district attorney? a special prosecutor? the sheriff?—comes across as pretty zealous and is making a lot of promises at what seems to be a very preliminary stage of investigation about swiftly catching the perpetrators. that kind of "rush to justice" mentality can't bode well for the grissoms and co.; it very well may be the case that they're going to be used as scapegoats.

two cases we now know are going to be reviewed based on the names on some of the files we see flash across the screen at various points: the "green blood" case from episode 08x15 "the theory of everything" (victim david "dave" bohr) and the serial killings of jenny carroll from episode 14x16 "killer moves."

lots of creepy clown imagery throughout here. does it all come from one case, or is it a repeated motif? does the perpetrator behind the fabrication case identify with clowns somehow? are they taunting the lvpd by calling them "clowns"?

re: brass and hodges: here, we get more clips of brass, including several of him both in the hotel penthouse suite and one of him firing a gun. at one point, he seems to be relaying intel on the fabrication case to the grissoms and hodges, perhaps indicating that he is brought in to work on the case or else implicated in it before they are. as for hodges, we see only a few glimpses of him: one from behind, when he is sitting in the hotel penthouse suite with the grissoms and brass, listening to brass's briefing on the case, and another in the rapid-fire montage at the end of the trailer—a momentary close-up on his face. in both instances, he appears distressed.

on to the grissoms: at the start of the trailer, we see grissom waking up to an alarm. the clock on the nightstand reads "4:37." however, we don't know if that's meant to be 4:37 in the morning or 4:37 in the afternoon. while it's dark in the room, it's possible that he and sara simply have the curtains pulled, so it really could be either option. at this point, grissom already has his "las vegas crime lab advisor" id badge, and sara later asks him if he has "first day jitters," both of which details indicate that he and sara have begun working with the lvpd again by the time this scene takes place. that so, if he's waking up at 4:37am, then the fact that he is could suggest that maxine roby's team is day or swing shift rather than grave. however, if he's waking up at 4:37pm, then her team might work nights. as of yet, we can't say for certain.

@samarsorigs pointed out that the digital clockface has a dot on it, indicating that it is 4:37pm. this may suggest that maxine roby is the head of the graveyard shift (as presumably the grissoms wouldn’t be in bed in the late afternoon/early evening if they weren’t planning to be up all night).

in the same hotel bed scene, after grissom hears the alarm, he touches his ears, acting disconcerted or possibly even as if he were in pain. there is also some modulation on the voice of the newscaster talking in the background and a ringing sound in the foreground. this motion from him coupled with these sound effects could show that he is experiencing hearing problems/a recurrence of his otosclerosis. however, it's also possible that the image and sounds are a fake-out and that there is some other reason why he's fidgeting with his ears. at this point, it's too early to tell either way.

if he is in fact losing his hearing again, then the fact that he is could possibly explain why he is perhaps reluctant to return to the lab/get back in the criminalistics "game."

it's worth noting that as he is touching his ears, we can't tell if sara is awake to see him do so and/or how aware of her he is regardless (i.e., whether or not he knows she might potentially be watching him). that so, if he is in fact experiencing hearing loss again, we can't say if she is knowledgeable that he is.

minor note: the grissoms appear to have switched sides on their bed from how they used to sleep in the original series. whether they've done so on a permanent basis or just for the moment, we can't say.

the woman who both approaches maxine roby in her office and is interviewing sara in what appears to be a pd interrogation room may be the new (assistant?) district attorney. if so, then she might be something of a minor antagonist. certainly, she looks menacing talking to sara.

both grissom and sara appear upset about how deep the evidence fabrication runs. the "you and i both know what it feels like when a scene is staged" "i don't want it to be true either, sara" conversation that they have suggests that the fabrication is so sophisticated that they're even second-guessing themselves to start out with.

there is a parrot in the background at the hotel here. do the grissoms own a parrot now? maybe they picked it up on their "margaritaville" travels. it appears to be an african grey parrot, which is a breed known for its excellent mimicry abilities. what kinds of words might a parrot owned by the grissoms be able to say? 👀

@samarsorigs also pointed out that the parrot could potentially be brass’s.

the grissoms are doing archaeology together. is this part of their investigation into the fabrication case or a glimpse into their lives prior to their return to vegas? the grave they're exhuming looks pretty disordered.

there's about a half-second shot of what appears to perhaps be surveillance footage of sara in a crowd. does this image maybe tie in with the taunting message attached to one of the previous promos (“your reputation precedes you, sara sidle. win or lose, i’ve got plans for you”)? if so, why is someone specifically targeting her? how did this criminal come to be aware of her in particular?

in the final scene with the grissoms, when sara sits up behind grissom in bed and asks him if he has "first day jitters," grissom seems somewhat affronted. whether his worry is connected to his possible hearing loss or to something else, we don't yet know.

anyway, as always, take everything i've said here with a giant grain of salt, as we still lack any real context for these clips.

it'll be interesting to see how things play out.

i'm getting super excited for october 6th!

#answered #csi vegas #asks: csi #**#csiverse

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mrsbrekkers · 4 years ago

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Hiii I just read your Jesper imagines and they're soooo good. Jesper is my fave so I was wondering if I could pretty please request a Jesper imagine? Something like y/n is a student at Ketterdam University and has finals coming up and is studying non-stop. Eventually she breaks down due to the stress so her loving boyfriend Jesper comforts her and makes sure she gets a well deserved break.

Might be based off of my current situation haha so if only I had a comfort Jesper at my disposal.

Thank you so much if you decide to write it!! And have a great rest of your day.

hi there friend! i totally understand this feeling atm, so it was easy to write it. it came out as more of a blurb ( considering i write 3000ish words per imagine, this is 1500 i believe ) but i think it makes more sense that way? just soft jesper comforting so ya know? we all need a jesper at our disposal, period.

reader is gender neutral as per usual in my jesper fics! you also, as the reader, can determine what you're studying at university, i left that to the imagination! :)

pairings! jesper x reader!

warnings! none? literally pure fluff? LMAO

word count! 1532!

COFFEE AND FINAL BLUES

Finals. They were draining. Any student at the university knew that. It was hard to get any sort of break during these weeks. It didn’t help that teachers would schedule several finals on the same day. They never wanted to give the students any breathing air. It was times like this when Y/N would wonder if dropping out was simpler. Of course, their boyfriend, Jesper Fahey, someone who had dropped out, would always tell them it wasn’t worth it. He was the only reason Y/N could say they were still in university. It became overwhelming so quickly, and Jesper was the calm in the storm.

Y/N could remember distinctly when they’d first met Jesper, because it was at their favorite coffee shop when they’d both been freshmen university students. The smell of the coffee shop, the bustling students as some situated themselves in corners of the shop, ready to begin their already large stacks of homework. Or the students who chatted away in the line, some talking of graduating that year as seniors. Some talking of their career choices. It was Y/N’s favorite place because it was so easy to become lost in it. Lost in the smell of coffee, paper, and books. Or the chatter and how it drowned one out, making it easy to fit in.

“Large iced caramel high rise please,” Y/N spoke to the barista, who gave a nod and small smile. They’d become accustomed to the freshmen’ order. When handed their coffee, Y/N went to turn and head towards their table, planning on starting up their first paper of the semester, but running into a large chest stopped them, the cold coffee rushed out of the cup, spilling all over both bodies present.

“Fuck!” Y/N looked down at the ground, seeing the now empty cup. Dammit, that was SIX dollars! Who the hell- but the words were lost in their throat as they looked up at the taller man, seeing him frantically trying to say something. It was downright adorable. Most university students would’ve been asshats about it, but the man in front of them seemed desperate to apologise.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, let me buy you a new one!” The words left quickly, the man seeming to not care about the coffee he was now wearing.

“It’s alright, really, but a new one sounds nice, I have a paper to start and need the energy” Y/N said, laughing a bit. Normally, a bitchy comment would’ve also left their mouth, but they could see the man before them was trying to be kind about the situation and make it right. Someone who isn’t an asshat, that’s nice.

“Iced caramel high rise, right?” Jesper asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to go clean up. I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, moving towards the bathroom in the small shop. Once they’d fully cleaned up, they exited the bathroom, seeing their new drink on their table. A small note attached to the cup with his name on it, the classes he was taking, and that he was a freshmen. That and a small compliment.

“Jesper, cute,” Y/N said before sitting and taking a sip of their coffee.

Y/N should’ve thanked freshmen year for being as easy as it’d been, because being a senior now with less than a week to finish their fifty page paper? Was exhausting. The constant struggle to topple out of bed from long nights was already enough to make one want to cry, but alongside going to early classes, not having your boyfriend during said classes, and having no time to yourself? It was becoming too much.

The dorm was silent for the time being, Y/N sitting and taking notes for the paper they had due. They’d managed twenty pages so far, but now they were trying to gather more intel for the thirty more they needed. It was going fine, but it would only take that one thing to make them snap.

And it did. That one thing happened.

Hearing their pencil snap, Y/N sucked in a deep breath, putting their head in their hands. They grabbed the pencil sharpener next to them, going to sharpen their pencil, but after several minutes of trying, they threw the pencil down alongside the sharpener. Saints, just one good thing, please?

Y/N stood, walking towards the door to run and grab more coffee, but upon hitting their toe against the edge of bed frame, and then proceeding to topple over onto the dorm room floor, they laid there for a moment, tears appearing in their eyes. All the overwhelming sensations from the past week came rushing in, and a sob broke from their throat.

The door opened moments later, Jesper entering with the key he’d been gifted from Y/N when they’d become official. Even after he’d dropped out, he was still finding ways to sneak into the university and see his significant other. What he didn’t expect to see was Y/N on the floor, curled up into a small ball, tears streaming down their face.

“Lovebug? Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Jesper was quick to shut the door and fall to the ground, taking Y/N into his arms. He felt them curl up to him, his shirt becoming wet in the process, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was what was causing such tears, but he had a pretty decent idea.

“Everything. I couldn’t get one thing right today. My coffee tasted weird, I forgot my key at the shop, so I had to walk back to grab it. I then came back to find out my backpack was left at class, which meant I couldn’t get it until Monday. I have my paper here in the dorm, but I can’t work on stuff due this week until tomorrow, putting me EVEN MORE behind. I broke my pencil, it didn’t want to sharpen, and then I stubbed my toe against my bed frame, and fell,” Y/N ranted, sniffling as they leaned against their boyfriend, arms around him in the best way they could manage. A small hiccup followed their rant, their eyes looking up at their boyfriend, who simply smiled a bit.

“Rough day then, hm lovebug? Finals I suspect?” Jesper asked softly, brushing his fingers through Y/N’s hair as he spoke. He hadn’t been in university long enough to remember the finals that Ketterdam would throw on students, but he imagined they were torturous. He remembered how the teachers were, that was for sure.

Y/N nodded, resituating themself so they now sat in Jesper’s lap, head on his shoulder, and face buried into his neck. They still were curled against him, but now they could take in their boyfriend’s warmth completely, and slowly, their tears died down.

“I just wish the teachers would give us breaks,” Y/N murmured.

“I know, I know. Why don’t you come down to the Crow Club? It’s slow right now, and Nina has been dying to see you anyway. A break with me, the other crows, and some food? I’m sure Nina will share some of her treats right now if you’d like her too,” Jesper offered, his hand finding the back of Y/N’s head, cradling it against him. His other arm wrapped around them, keeping them close.

“Can we? And then come back to cuddle?” Y/N asked softly, looking up at Jesper, who laughed a bit, but nodded.

“Cuddles immediately after, I promise you,” Jesper said, kissing the top of Y/N’s forehead.

“Good, I love Jesper cuddles. They’re the best cuddles,” Y/N said with a smile pulling at their lips. The first one to have graced their features in the last week.

“I missed that smile.” Jesper indeed had. He’d seen how finals wiped away all sense of happiness from the students at the university. How they made students irritated, less likely to smile. He hadn’t seen Y/N smile in almost two weeks. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss to their lips, tasting the remains of the caramel high rise Y/N still ordered. It brought him back to the first time he’d met them, and he couldn’t help but smile like a child.

“I love you, you know that, right lovebug?” Jesper whispered against their lips, earning an airy laugh. One that Jesper knew all too well.

“I know. I love you too,” Y/N whispered back, opening their eyes to fully look up at their lover. Seeing Jesper for the first time that day, their hands softly moved from their place around him, landing on his shoulders.

“Come on, let’s go get you some snacks and sweets,” Jesper said softly, picking Y/N up, watching them squeal as they went to hop from his hold.

“I need to change silly!” Y/N exclaimed, managing to hop from Jesper’s hold, but were simply pulled back into his arms moments later.

“No you don’t, you’re wearing my sweater and sweatpants. It’s perfect attire for this!” Jesper exclaimed back, carrying Y/N out of the dorm room over his shoulder.

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wisterialagoon · 4 years ago

Text

For you, I'll stay : pt1

Dabi is one of the top soldiers of the League of Villains. He does the dirty work and feels the stain of crime on his hands. You're an Assistant Inspector at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, resigned to records-keeping instead of doing actual fieldwork. What happens when these two become intertwined in the most prominent political event that changed the era of 1990's Tokyo Japan?

Warnings: Violence (a girl gets beat up in this chapter), gangs, eventual smut(not in this chapter tho)

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Agency, Kantō Region, Japan.

January 9th, 1990, Tuesday.

22:30 hrs.

"It's going to be a long night," she thought, while fixing her desk for the fifth time. There was a haphazard pile of file folders, an unboxed diskette pack, and coffee cup stains all over her table calendar. She quickly reorganises the file folders, placing them in chronological order, then according to crime. Then, she matches the diskettes, which contain additional data such as interrogation footage, with each pile. Lastly, she makes her way to the pantry to refill her mug with coffee, humming along to a tune that was receiving more airplay recently.

It was an uneventful night, to say the least. As usual, she worked overtime, working on organising the paperwork and records of each case-from instigation to case management. She loved it initially, but now that she's six months into this new assignment, she could feel herself wearing down with how emotionally, physically and mentally taxing everything is. It wasn't so much the quantity or frequency of the load, but the content itself.

Seeing death, rape, theft and disappearances on a daily basis was starting to take a toll on her mental health, and even if she learned how to compartmentalise, there was something about seeing all the details that made her sleep less and less these days. The photos of dead bodies or visages of crying relatives would disturb her to no end, and having to type out each case report even if it meant tagging it as a cold case, was something that never really sat well with her.

Her direct senior, the only female Inspector in the agency-the only one who was actually nice, unlike the rest of the police force who talk about her during lunch breaks and agency dinners-tell her that the feeling of being "uninvolved" and "useless" will soon pass. "Besides," she tells her during one of the rare nights that they're both doing overtime, "You've got potential."

She sighs, wary of the compliment. "I just... I wish I could be doing more."

"You'll have your fair share of fieldwork and interrogations, Y/N" she says, patting the younger girl's shoulder. "Just keep working well, and the Chief will soon see your potential."

That last line resonated with her the most. She knew that the Chief was a firm leader-he did routine inspections, called people in his office to ask for status reports and he'd set all sorts of deadlines. But he was also known for being experienced in reading people just with one look.

So the question was, what was his assessment of her?

Did the Chief view her just like how the rest of the agency did-an Assistant Inspector who was only fit for clerical work even if she had graduated at the top of her class? Did he even notice her presence in the building-or was she too conscious of all the judgemental stares thrown her way because she was the first female recruit in a long while?

That was it, she thought, not noticing that her cup had overflowed.

With a sharp curse, she flung her hand away from the scalding beverage, and moved to grab some tissues-her mind thoroughly forgetting the questions that had darted in her mind not a minute ago.

As she dabbled the tissue on her hands and shirt, the police hotline rang, disturbing the silence of the otherwise empty floor. Alarmed at the prospect of a crime or report coming in at this hour, she runs towards the desk of the patrol and public safety unit.

"SMPA, what is your concern?" she asks, voice surprisingly level. When there wasn't a response, she asks again, this time a notch louder.

"Kidnapping," the voice cuts through the radio silence, its texture a rich timbre with a raspy undertone. Caught off guard at the mention of a kidnapping, she scrambles for a notepad and a pen. "23:00, 6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan. Takahashi Yua." In hastily written script, she takes note of the details, not once interrupting the man on the line.

"Who is this? Where is your intel from?" she finally asks, after she hears mere breathing sounds. "Hello?"

The person on the line doesn't respond, instead opting to breathe heavily before the line dies.

"Wha-" she exhales, overwhelmed with the situation. It wasn't unheard of for random tips to come in the station, that much was true. But a tip at this time? And with that much detail? She was wary enough that there wasn't any crime traffic recently but this is proving to be the suspicious exception.

Shaking off her doubts, she dials the home number of Inspector Sato, the head of the patrol and public safety unit. She knows he'll definitely give her an earful for calling at such a late hour-and to his house no less, but if what the man said was true, and if her gut was right, someone was after the daughter of the Minister of National Defense.

At the sixth ring, he picks up and greets her with a litany of questions. "Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is? Whoever you are, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up!" he rattles off, temper flaring.

"This is Miyasaki Y/N, sir." she says, surprised at how stable her voice was. "Assistant Inspec-"

"Ah, the personal assistant." his tongue clicks, and even if she didn't see, she knew he was shaking his head. "What is it? Here to ask help again in records-keeping?"

At that, she presses her mouth in a thin line, stopping herself from giving him a piece of her mind. She knew that they would always find fault in whatever she does but sometimes she wants to just put them in their place and prove herself.

But now wasn't the time to do that.

"No, sir." she starts, fisting her hand. "There's been an emergency call to the patrol and public service hotline. A tip was given about a kidnapping at apartment 6 Chome-10-1 in Roppongi -"

"Let me stop you right there." he expels a deep breath, clearly uninterested with her report. "You do know what that area is like, right? Or do you not even know where it is?"

"It's in Minato city. The residence listed houses many important political figures, it has national defence" she says, foregoing the other details and taking the opportunity to transition to the most important part. "Sir, you see, this could actually mean that-"

"This means that there is no kidnapping. I mean, if you're trying to pull a joke, it's a terrible one. Hell, there's hardly any crime in that area!" he gives a dry laugh. "it's an executive residential area, guarded and all that. As you said, National Defence is there and so are diplomats and expats. No one in their right mind would attempt a prank call, let alone a kidnapping."

"But the caller gave a name, possibly that of the victim. We should send a team, I have the address. I could lead the-" again, he cuts her off. At this point, a vein was threatening to pop at how unprofessional he was being, but she'd rather not break out into an argument with a direct senior-especially when he was clearly already annoyed at her.

"So this is why you really called, huh?" he chuckles. "Look, no one knows how you got in, or what strings you pulled to pass the Academy, but at the rate you're going, you'll never lead a team-much less my team." the certainty in his voice washed over her, causing her to remain silent at his blatant jibe. "So go back to whatever you're doing and don't even attempt to call me or anyone from the agency to waste their time with your tall tales." the other line clicks, ending their phone call.

Exasperated, she puts down the receiver with a little too much force than was necessary. "Fine, I'll do it myself." she mutters, putting on her coat, muffler and grabbing her car keys.

30 minutes. She'll have to pray that she makes it. After all, she doesn't have much time.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:00 hrs.

The gate to the apartment building alone rendered her speechless. Pure brass balusters and a towering guardhouse greeted her, complete with intimidating security personnel who wasted no time in asking for her identification.

"Assistant Inspector Lee, from the SMPA. We received a tip about criminal activity taking place in the vicinity of this residence," she starts, not giving any specific details. "This won't take long." she adds, as a last ditch effort to convince them that she means business.

"Alright," one of the guards lets her through. As she rolled up her window, she catches a muffled dialogue between the two. "Isn't she a little too young to be an Inspector? And criminal activity? Talk about absurd."

Scoffing, she speeds up to the address the caller gave and in a few minutes, found herself outside the apartment building. But she was too late. There, standing by the of the main entrance, was the defence Minister himself, with blood on his hands and a shell-shocked expression.

"My daughter..." she hears him mutter. From just behind the door, she hears distant voices screaming for someone to call the police. "Dial the police! Or call the National Defense for all I care! Someone do something!" the voice got louder as she linked it with a face-Takahashi Riku, the Minister's wife. As if seeing the police lights flashing atop her car, The ministers knees gave out.

She makes haste to catch him before he falls, and as she does, she gets her shirt stained with blood, and scrapes her elbow with the force of his weight. Not minding the sting of the wind blowing by her scraped skin, she pulls out her walkie-talkie, and radios the police patrolling Roppongi that night.

"This is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N, does anyone copy?" she starts, practically shouting. For some reason, she felt an adrenaline rush at the development of events. "Repeat, this is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki, does anyone copy?"

After a few beats, a voice breaks through the white noise. "This is Inspector Takami, copy. What's your 10-13?"

"I've got a two zero seven." she says, forgetting that she hadn't even scouted the area for verification that a kidnapping actually took place. "6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City. Send a medic for shock treatment." she rattles off, surprised at herself for actually being able to focus and act given the situation.

Then again, this was her job. Her first fieldwork-albeit unwarranted and unapproved.

"Copy that, 10-4. I'll run code. ETA twenty minutes." he affirms his direct response before ending the dispatch call.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:20 hrs.

After twenty minutes, two police cars pull up the driveway. One belonged to Inspector Takami, the other was the patrol for back-up. He closes the gap between them in five, quick strides, hands in his coat's pockets.

"What happened?" he asks, ready for a briefing.

"There's nothing definitive yet..." she trails off, mentally berating herself for not even scouting the interior to study the scene. "But I've spoken to the family."

"You mean you've spoken to the Minister of National Defense." he supplies, his breath fogging up in front of him. "What did he say?"

"The family heard the door slam shut, and when he went to check his daughter was gone," hesitant, she clears her throat as a stalling method. "He found her in the marking lot, the girl was bruised and bloodied, unconscious. Looks like she was forced to inhale somthing, and her hands were tied."

"Attempted kidnapping?" he asks, stealing a glance at the apartment buildings façade.

"High chance for it." she answers, clearing her throat again. "Listen, Inspector, I received a tip in the agency around an hour ago-saying something about a kidnapping taking place at this time, at this exact address."

He raises his eyebrows, evidently taken aback at this new piece of information. "And?" he asks, expectant.

"And I think this is a set-up." she declares, sure of something for the first time that night. "Whoever is behind this, wanted us to come, thinking it was a kidnapping when it was an assault and break-and-entry."

"What are you getting at, Miyasaki?"

"There's a reason why Miss. Takahashi was assaulted and not kidnapped. They're telling us something." she says, handing out her notepad which contained the details of the emergency call a while back.

"What do you think this could possibly be then?"

"I don't know... yet." fuelled with conviction, she fists her hands at her sides, no longer feeling that sensation of helplessness or uselessness back in the agency when she was working on records-keeping. "But I'll find out."

9-chome, Kitakarasuyama, Setagaya-ku, Tokyo.

Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N's Residence.

02:00 hrs.

Finally back at her apartment after filing the case and sending off the Minister's family with words of certainty about exhausting their whole force on the job, she slumps on the sofa, feeling her body become dead weight.

"God..." she sighs, fatigued. "That was a long night."

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

The Way of Betrayal [Din Djarin x Reader]

Summary: Din Djarin finally meets other Mandalorians, and he learns the truth about his creed. Confused and hurting, he begins to over think, and so it's your job to comfort the Mandalorian and promise him that you'll love him no matter who he is or where he comes from

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none really, a little bit of guilt and anxiety I suppose.

Authors note: I know I always write a smut based around the new episode but.. as a TCW/Rebels fan, chapter eleven hit hard. I had been theorising about Din being a Death Watch foundling on my twitter literally since season one came out and now that it's been confirmed… my feelings are all over the place. So I knocked up this fluff/angst. It's a little painful but let's preserve.

~ gif by firedragon04

When the leader of Clan Kryze, Bo Katan, removed her helmet, it came as a surprise to you. You couldn't even imagine how it made Din feel. His whole body tensed up, shock coursing through his veins.

Waves crashed against the hull of the ship, the cold air stinging your skin as you nursed the child in your arms. You covered him in your cloak slightly, protecting him from any further attacks. You hushed him gently, rocking him up and down as his big dark eyes blinked up at you. You gently stroked the light white hairs on his little green head and he gave you a tired smile. "You're okay, little one." you whispered out as he settled in your arms.

It wasn't just Bo Katan, but stood by her side were two other Mandalorians, both helmetless. You half expected Din to remove his helmet, despite you knowing that it was against the code of his creed. You were baffled, to say the least. You and your boyfriend were now stood before three Mandalorians, each one helmetless. Of course, there could be a chance that they weren't Mandalorian at all; and that their armour was stolen. It seemed as though Din shared the same thought process as you.

"Where did you get that Mandalorian armour?" he gritted out. "Nobody is allowed to remove their helmet."

"Oh, he's one of those." Said the girl with dark hair, bitterness dripping from her tongue.

Din didn't move an inch, his fingers cautiously gliding over the blaster in his holster. You didn't like her attitude, or the way she spoke to Din. You wanted to rip that smirk from her lips; but you knew that acting irrationally would only get you and your Mando in more trouble than necessary.

"One of what." Din's question came out as a more gruff statement, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have time for games.

Bo Katan hesitated for a moment, her amber eyes becoming glossy as traumatic memories swarmed over her. "Death Watch," she tried to remain composed but her explanation came out as a shaky exhale. "You were a foundling of the Death Watch. They're traditionalists, trying to rebuild the way of Mandalore so it remains the way it was intended to. They're a violent faction of Mandalorians. Your creed are responsible for the death of many Mandalorians, including my sister, Duchess Satine of Mandalore."

You knew of this. You had heard of this before. The prolonged silence was unbearable and you decided to speak up. Din was clearly struggling to process Bo Katan's words.

"We don't know what you're talking about," You sighed. "We have been tasked to bring this little one to the Jedi. We've come from far away places, just for some intel. Just to find you. Outer rim to inner rim. We need help."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Bo Katan frowned. Din remained silent and your grip tightened around the child as you took a step forward, breaking any distance between you and the red headed Mandalorian.

"Can you help us?" You asked finally, not wanting Bo Katan to expel any more information that could confuse or hurt Din. You knew he couldn't bear to hear the words that Bo Katan spoke, and to you, it didn't matter anyway.

You had heard of the Death Watch; but your father had always told you it was an ancient folk tale during the Clone Wars. He told you of clan leader Pre Vizsla and how he worked with Darth Maul to overthrow Duchess Satine. And now you were learning that it could all be true, and that your Mando could be part of it. You wondered how much Din knew about it.

Despite all of this, it was something you could see past. You knew Din better than anyone else in the whole world. You knew that he is not capable of Death Watch crimes. You could never judge him for his creed.

"We can help you. I know of… a Jedi…" Bo Katan folded her strong arms over her chest. "But you need to help us first. I'm looking for a certain Mandalorian weapon and I've received word that it's in the hands of an Ex-Imp. There's an Imperial transport leaving docking bay 94 at dawn and we plan on scavenging it for at least information on the weapon. Your help would be greatly appreciated."

Din loosened up, finally moving his gaze from the floor, back to Bo-Katan. For a moment and looked down at you, holding his garbling child in your arms. You and the child were his life, and he hated leaving you both. Since met you, he found himself caring more about you and the child, than he did himself. Mandalorian's are taught to be selfish, but you taught him compassion and love, something he valued a lot more. He was your protector. His mind returned back to Bo Katan's plot and he didn't like the sounds of it. He knew this would be a Mandalorian only mission, and that you wouldn't be able to join him.

The Razor Crest was in bits, and every native Din had already encountered had tried to kill him for his beskar, or kidnap you, or drown the child for shark food. There was no safe place you could stay. Sure, you were strong, but Din needed the confidence that he could protect you. He didn't want to leave your side.

"I'll consider it." Din replied and you knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment. He wasn't sure if he could go through with the mission if it meant leaving you and the child behind. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to return the child to the Jedi; but he was quested to do so by his creed. The same creed he now learnt were Mandalorian terrorists during the Clone Wars.

"You know where to find us," Bo Katan smiled politely. "This is the way." she said before the three Mandalorians put their helmets back on and jetted off the ship and into the velvety night sky.

"What do you mean, consider it?" You asked Din, dropping a hand to your hip. "You've come this far. This could be your only chance to find the Jedi. You have to help them."

Din's knees felt weak, all this information was too much. The Mandalorian could handle a lot. He could survive a lot. But this was hard to take in. Your words were scrambled to him and with a wobble he fell backwards into a box of crates. You gently placed the child down and ran towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, sitting him on an extended plank of wood. "Are you okay?" you asked, concern filling your eyes.

"Nngh, I don't know. I don't know if I can trust them." Din admitted, looking into the ocean. You slipped your hands into Din's and began to rub comforting circles through his gloved fingers.

"I've heard stories about Clan Kryze… and Duchess Satine. I've heard of the invasion of Mandalore, and all about Death Watch. They… they've done bad things to a lot of people." You felt Dins hand tense up at your words. "But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. I think it just means we can trust her."

Din looked at you. "They… they removed their helmets. All this time I've been telling you I can't but maybe I've been wrong."

"I don't care what they look like under their helmets. I don't care what you look like under yours. Because I fell in love with your heart, Din. And if you still don't want to remove your helmet, then I respect that."

"I feel so foolish." Din admitted and you shook your head. You sighed, leaning into him and curling up on his lap. The child clambered up his knees and shuffled in between you two for comfort. "Look cyar’ika, our little family." Din hummed with delight, running a gloved finger through your hair. "Promise me, no matter what, no matter who I am or where I come from, you won't leave me."

"I promise Din."

"Because I don't think I can live without you, sweet girl," Din croaked out, his heart breaking at the mere thought of losing you. "I wish I could take my helmet off for you and the kid. I wish I could show you who I really am."

You cupped the curve of his beskar helmet and looked into his visor. "I know who you really are Din, and I love you for it. Whatever happens next, we will figure it out together."

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #the mandalorian season 2 #din djarin x reader #bo katan

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