#valeria lamb

[folksong-weaver]

Sometimes you panic, and cast Light on your own bones

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 29

Moniker: N/A Risk Level: N/A Brief: N/A Safeword: Refer to first brief. The residents have agreed you need your own space. They’ve never agreed on anything before - Laswell

Well this was terrifying. The current residents were Ghost, Mace, Nikto, König, Velikan, Valeria and at least temporarily Gaz (Nova’s day had cleared her to be released you had been told). Being in a room with all of them was overwhelming, especially when most of them were currently arguing on the best colour for your new “nest”.

“My money’s on Val” Mace said, taking up residence on your right side and watching the devolving argument.

“I dunno, I reckon Ghost will take Gaz’s side” you replied, relaxing a little now that you had another person who wasn’t getting wildly heated about the number of windows in all of the rooms.

“You in the bet?” Mace asked Velikan who had been standing on your left from when you came in and hadn’t made any move to get involved in what was going on.

They always seemed to be by your side when you were alone in the Kennel, a silent protector even now in this room full of people. They just gave your head a pat and Mace laughed.

“Not wrong. Doesn’t matter who wins, they’re going to fold for her no matter what she asks for.”

“Now if only that worked with you.”

“Don’t think I’d fold for you sweet thing?”

You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Him? You couldn’t very well see Mace folding for anyone. Maybe Ghost, but you imagined rather than the affectionate giving in it would be more akin to the fucking thunderdome.

“I could sneak into your bedroom at night when nobody is watching” he said.

“But you don’t.”

“But I don’t. Not yet anyway.”

You stared at him, the argument fading into the background. What a strange way for him to admit that maybe he cared about you just a little, the fact that he only touched you when there was someone there to stop him from tearing you apart. It was probably as much an admission of fondness as you could ever expect from him, so you slipped your hand into his and squeezed, your cheeks a little sore from the dumb smile on your face as you put your attention back on the argument happening.

“Needy bitch” he said with a smug grin, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Fuck, what a thing to find romantic.

It was strange to have the fog of the last few days lifted, almost like you had stumbled out and suddenly the sun was right there. You still felt a little all over the place, so you had been relieved when the brief seemed to suggest that wasn't a scene of sorts today. Just a hangout with the devils favourite psychopaths.

“Ay, stop hogging the little lamb Mace!” Valeria snapped, looking around for you to confirm that she was obviously correct about going for a warm colour palette.

She marched over, confident smile that made your knees week painted on, and grabbed your chin to tilt your face for her appraisal. She tutted, disappointed.

“All healed up. Shame, your skin was pretty all swollen. Maybe I am coming around to a dark colour palette, we could match that deep purple I put on your face.”

That got Nikto and Ghost’s attention, the former not even hiding how his cock was starting to swell up in his pants and the latter conspicuously rubbing at his ribcage right where you knew that healing brand was. No wonder Rudy had reacted the way he had to your body the other day, it was covered in the healing claims of nearly everyone in this room.

“I can see your nipples getting hard” Mace teased, bringing your hand that was still in his up to brush your chest.

Everybody was staring at you now and you were pretty sure this much attention from a group of government sanctioned serial killers might actually cause your heart to give out.

“There wasn’t anything in the brief” you said, cringing at how tentative and unsure you sounded.

Your eyes landed on Gaz and you gave him a look that you were pretty sure said ‘sos, gonna melt into the ground, was not warned I might be getting either murdered, maimed, gang banged or all three at the same time today’.

He came over, hands gesturing in a shoo motion. Valeria rolled her eyes and let you go to step aside. Velikan stayed where they were, but they weren’t getting in Gaz’s way. Mace, however, squeezed your tit.

“How’d it feel cuddling up knowing her poor cunt was all shredded up by my cock?”

Goddamnit. You shouldn’t have really been surprised when Mace laughed as Velikan swiftly grabbed you and moved you out of the way so Gaz could punch him. Only König (who did indeed look like he had gotten a fist to the face the other day) beat him to it, barreling past and tackling Mace to the ground where it descended into a wrestling match between the two.

Children. They were fucking children. And they were regularly given carte blanche with guns and bombs and who knows what else. Although as you thought about it, you were given the access and tools needed to absolutely destroy people’s lives from behind a computer and you weren’t much better these days.

You wound up picking out colours and textures from samples with Nikto’s teeth almost gently resting on your shoulder on one side and Ghost with his hand on your lower back on the other. When you had picked, rather than being allowed to actually help, you were more or less imprisoned in the kitchen and no matter how much you whined and raged Gaz and Velikan made you stay put and relax.

You didn’t ask. They must have noticed even if they said nothing about it. You didn’t ask why they were making you a ‘nest’, a little safe space that nobody was allowed in but you. You didn’t ask what the point of it was when tomorrow was your last day. You just… didn’t ask.

Instead you watched the two of them play cards, although it was more Gaz being absolutely massacred at cards, and drank copious amounts of tea. You spoke with him about football for a bit too, finding he was pretty passionate about it. You weren’t super into it, just mentioning you supported your home team which he had scoffed at. Apparently you were supposed to be rivals.

Velikan seemed pretty disinterested in the football chat but did perk up when you mentioned American football, not a sport you knew anything about but you had been chatting away about who called it soccer in the Kennel and how Price always lost his mind about it.

Just in time Mace popped his head in and was only to happy to opine of the superiority of American football as Gaz argued back. You were pretty happy falling into step with Velikan behind them as you were led to this alleged ‘nest’.

How it didn’t reek of paint was a mystery, because my God they had went all in. It was perfect. Moody without being morose, airy without feeling exposed, just a comfortable space you wanted to sit and read in for the next month. Birds must be onto something, because there was a huge round bed absolutely bundled with blankets and it looked amazing.

It wasn’t just a space to relax though, it was kitted out as a little apartment with a charming kitchenette and an en-suite with a claw foot bath you just knew in your gut was eye-wateringly expensive.

This hadn’t been done in a day.

“Want me to fuck you into those nice blankets princess?” Ghost asked and you turned to find him and the others in varying levels of smugness over your reaction.

“Hm. ‘They’ve agreed you need your own space’. That’s what it said right?” you asked, yeah maybe playing coy a little bit because you were fairly confident that if one of them decided they were going to do something the others would stop them.

Ghost smiled at you, looking almost… proud maybe? Like your stunning and frankly stupid lack of self preservation that was having you so comfortable in the company of monsters was a good thing.

“Rules are nobody is allowed in but you” Gaz said as the others left.

You narrowed your eyes because the looks you got as they did meant they definitely knew something you didn’t.

“You’re up to something” you said, not managing to be stern as you bounced onto the big nest of a bed and luxuriated in how you sunk into plush softness.

“Me?” he gasped, a hand clutched to his chest. “I’m wounded luv! I’ve never done a thing wrong in my life.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m deploying tomorrow.”

You felt like your heart had sunk right through your chest and into the blankets.

“I-oh.”

“You look sad.”

“I am.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a dick. I just didn’t realise this was the last time I’d see you. Is anyone else going with you?”

“Soap’s with me, think we might be taking Velikan as backup.”

You wanted to pull him into this nest and spend the night committing his body to memory, committing his face and his laugh and his sense of humour to memory. He put one knee on the bed and leaned over to give you a kiss that was so full of affection that it made you want to cry.

“I’ll be fine luv. Remember, nobody is allowed in your nest. Be good.”

You grabbed him and pulled him into a hug before he could leave, squeezing the life out of him which he returned. And then he was gone and you were sat not knowing how you felt in this beautiful room that had been put together just for you.

But you couldn’t fucking stay. The man that had just kissed you is the same one who had nearly torn your ass apart. The man going with him was the same one who had put a hand to your mouth and would have given you no option to protest as he had his way with you. Torture, murder, taboo, dehumanisation, violence - they were all things you had been fucked to the tune of this month. If you stayed, what did you become?

It didn’t stop you from letting Soap sneak into your off limits nest in the middle of the night, Ghost like a shadow slipping in behind him and seemingly melting into the wall. It didn’t stop you from letting him make love to you like he would a lover before leaving for the war.

You couldn’t stay.

[tojisun]

call of duty masterlist - 02

01 mlist; 03 mlist; series mlist

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all works belong to tojisun. all forms of reposting are not permitted; please do not translate, copy, revise and/or refine my works.

short legend:

❦︎ - nsfw

last updated: july 28, 2024

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- SIMON (GHOST) RILEY

it won’t fit… - reader’s pov; simon’s pov ❦︎

acts of service

not a one-night stand guy ❦︎

pinky promise kisses

teasing you is his favourite thing ever ❦︎

tender touches

a little begging ❦︎

great malevolence ❦︎

kinda distracted ❦︎

mutual obsession ❦︎

you would not let me

full of him - 01, 02 ❦

something sacred

best friend simon

mercy

little liar ❦

obedience and patience ❦

older bf! - 01, 02 ❦

agonizing love

my love (mine all mine)

unleashed desires ❦

sweltering - suggestive

good pup ❦

little comfort

to be loved is to be changed

sub simon ❦

heavy love and ferocious hunger

sasha’s daddy

impatient (not so) little man ❦

use me whenever ❦

sweet princess; fucked stupid ❦

words are not needed

childhood best friend simon - 01, 02, 03

biting need ❦

blue collar (plumber) simon - 01, 02 ❦

unwilling cat dad

how he fucks - p link! ❦

teach me how to say goodbye

just mind-numbing sex ❦

pretty cam girl - suggestive

the lights are on ❦

> short ramblings - 01, 02, 03, 04 ❦

- KYLE (GAZ) GARRICK

good boy ❦

brat tamer ❦︎

breath play ❦︎

i find you in everyone

swipe right (dilf kyle) ❦

unplanned creampies ❦

- JOHNNY (SOAP) MACTAVISH

good boy (his ver) ❦

his little stress toy ❦︎

nasty in public ❦︎

makeup and cockwarming ❦

strap-ons ❦

- JOHN PRICE

got you cornered ❦︎

gentle love

cockwarming ❦︎

my ex-husband, 02 ❦︎

throat training (snippet) ❦︎

peanut

oral fixation - suggestive

disobedience and punishments - suggestive

in the silence, we find love

golf dilf price - 01, 02

his pickup truck - suggestive

little darling bimbo of his - suggestive

young love - 01, 02

- VALERIA

pretty mouth ❦

- MULTI (cod)

the loyalty of a dog - open character

little freak - tf 141 x reader ❦

his command (pt 02 of some sorts) - price x reader x simon ❦

sir and his dolls, 02- price x reader x gaz ❦

baby trapping - price/simon ❦

stuffed - simon (+ hinted tf 141) x reader ❦

frenzied addiction - ghoap x reader ❦

dog x lamb x wolf - simon x reader x price - suggestive

pretty cage - 141 x reader, established price x reader - WIP

orgasm denial, 02 - reader x simon x price ❦

through the viewfinder - 141 x reader - noncon ❦

hate sex - alejandro x reader x valeria ❦

little remote, 02 - johnny x reader; 141 x reader - noncon ❦

nosy neighbours and bird watching - 141 x reader

fervid obsession - 141 x reader

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 this is a completed masterlist (i reached 100 links LMAO) so pls refer to 01 & 03 mlists for the rest of oneshots and the series mlist for ongoing works ^v^ ୨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

[femoso-seben]

Livestock AU pt. 2

pt.1,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Any request for this AU is welcomed!

inspired a little by @tacticalanklebiter3000 and @frogchiro

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

II. Fragmented

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

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Valeria learned to adapt, like any good animal. She mastered the art of mimicry, and her peers were none the wiser. She studied their faces and mannerisms and copied them to perfection. In hindsight it was pointless. Once puberty hit and she grew into her face and body nobody cared that there was something just a little off about her. Being pretty and physically developed meant she could get away with a lot more. No longer would she be shunned for her off putting ways. In fact, it just made her all the more desirable to her hormonal male peers. Their attention was wasted on Valeria, who spent most of her time chasing girls she found 'special.' Marie Sanchez turned out to be very unremarkable. Not as deity-like as Valeria thought she was. Then came Elle Minote, with her honey blonde hair and mousy round face. Her good looks rivaled Valeria's and she quickly swooped in to claim her. Crowning herself as Elle's best friend. 

Even before their friendship fell apart, Valeria's treatment of Elle was far from appropriate. She smothered her. Elle wasn't allowed to hang out with other people when Valeria was not pleasant. Elle wasn't allowed to have other friends. If she refused to stop hanging around them Valeria would throw guilt-tripping fits. Valeria would harshly criticize any boy Elle showed interest in. Making her feel foolish for even considering going out with him, why would Elle want a boy like that? She's far too pretty and likeable for someone about as interesting as a cheap handbag. Elle couldn't handle the overbearing weight of being Valeria's object of affection, though. She drifted away and found herself a boyfriend. Heartbroken and furious, Valeria vowed to ruin every relationship Elle ever got. It's not like she had any issues doing so. Boys are simple creatures after all.

You didn't eat the sandwich. Valeria stares at you with disappointment and you glower right back at her from the corner. Your skin is looking dull. Probably from the lack of nutrients and sunlight.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Valeria asks sharply. Why does she even bother with carefully handmaking your food if you're going to be so unappreciative?

"Why am I being so difficult?" You repeat. Voice hard with anger. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because you kidnapped me and locked me in a fucking cell!" Your hands grip your iron chain tightly.

"A cell?" Valeria scoffs incredulously. How dare you call this a cell. It's clean. You have a nice, soft bed with blankets. It's far more luxurious than any prisoner would get. She storms up to you and grabs your face. "You are so incredibly ungrateful." She whispers dangerously. Dilated eyes locked onto yours. 

You were an artist. In the background of one of your pictures, barely in frame, was a half-painted canvas. It took her a while of staring at the photo to realise you were painting a lamb. After some digging, she found out you did commissions. You didn't make a whole lot off of those though so to make ends meet you worked at a bar. Wasting your talents and life away serving up elaborate cocktails for ungracious patrons. Valeria became a regular. The bar was subpar and hardly worth the money she spent there but with you behind the chipping counter, illuminated by the sickly glow of the old hanging lights, she could spare a few pesos.

Her blood pressure would spike every time a male patron would flirt. She seethed even more whenever you'd giggle or smile at whatever stupid remark they'd make. You were only doing it to get tipped, Valeria knew that, but it still angered her to no level. No man was deserving of you. They would never be able to appreciate all your little intricacies. Not in the way a woman could. Not in the way she could. She had to walk out one night when you were laughing a little too hard at something one of your coworkers had said. She crouched in the alley behind the bar, stiff with hatred, fingers clutched in her hair. She hated him and she hated you.

Your nails bite into the skin of her wrist. Valeria shakes her arm harshly before grabbing your wrist and wrenching your hand away. Your nails scrape against her flesh as they're moved away. Leaving thin raised lines in their wake.

"I could show you what a cell really looks like." She growls. "I could leave you in a cold, dark, damp room. No bed, no toilet, maybe I should let you starve too." Valeria feels hurt that you are comparing your room to a cell. You're throwing her hospitality back into her face. She's doing her best with a shitty situation. She sees the fear coursing through you. The way your brows twitch down and the way your breathing hitches.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask. Your voice breaks, a warning that you're going to start crying. "... Is it sex you want?" Valeria releases your face. She has to take a step back to stop herself from slapping you. She already explained everything to you. Are you stupid?

"No." She snaps. Glaring at you. "I already told you why I'm doing this."

"You don't love me, don't stand there and try to convince me you do." You hiss. You press close to the wall.

Valeria is appalled by your words. She hates it when people try to claim to know what she feels. They could never begin to understand her feelings. Not even her parents could begin to understand it. The violent screaming and crying fits followed up by weeks of numbness. Valeria loves you so much that she didn't give up after you turned her down. She has so many plans for your life together. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Those plans won't ever come true if she kills you.

"I know this is scary and that you don't understand," She explains slowly. "but I am doing what's best for you." And, what's best for her. She can't function like she needs to when she's constantly on the verge of snapping. All because the woman she wants isn't hers.

You aren't receptive to her words at all. You put your face in your hands. Your body is so tense that she can see a slight quiver in your shoulder.

"Let me OUT!" You screech. You throw your back against the wall and scream. Hands sliding up your face and into your hair. "Let me go you fucking PSYCHO!" You claw at your own arms and hyperventilate. Valeria watches silently. She knows you'll scream your vocal cords raw for the next few hours then curl up in your bed, unmoving for the next few weeks. Your behavior is repetitive and resonates with Valeria in a way that nothing else ever could. She sees herself in your rage. In the intense anger you direct onto yourself. She turns and walks out of the room.

Your screeching stops being audible at the top of the stairs. She locks the basement door and walks into the living room and sits down on her expensive dark grey couch. Her back aches in protest. She didn't realise how sore it was until now. She leans back with a sigh. Silence rings loudly in her ears as she thinks. You've been here for a month now, yet you aren't warming up to her at all. Perhaps it's the lack of stimuli. Animals kept in captivity develop zoochosis when under stimulated. Her gaze shifts to the painting she hung above the mantel. The beady eyes of a lamb stare unfeelingly back at her. She taps her fingers on her knee. She commissioned that one from you. 

You're frustrated and need an outlet. Valeria understands that now. With you being so deprived of anything you enjoyed pre-capture you'll probably jump at the opportunity to do anything other than stare at the depressing stone walls of your room. Painting is a good way to relieve stress and it's also a good way to bond. The sun shines through the window. Warming the little lamb. Highlighting the delicate paint strokes. She imagines how you must've looked while painting it. An engrossed look on your face as you twist your wrist in a delicate arch to capture the soft woolly curls.

When she was in primary school, Valeria would eat alone at lunch. Kneeling in the itchy grass beneath a large tree. The grass would leave indents on her calves and thighs. She had to come up with ways to entertain herself. She would read, play with bugs, tear strips of bark from the tree that shaded her. For her twelfth birthday her mother bought her a small, coiled notebook. It was pink and had bees on it. The best part was that she didn't have to use it for school. She filled the lined pages with drawings. Some of her favourite memories are of her sketching away at lunch, tuning out the joyful noises of her classmates. She knows how good art can be for the soul.

She browses through the paint section at a small craft store and wonders if she should get you your own sketchbook. The thought is tempting, but she'd have to give you something to draw with and she's unsure if she wants to provide any potential weapons. The paintbrushes she's getting you is risky enough. Her eyes scan over the coloured tubes of acrylic. Each one fighting for her attention. The whole store smells faintly woody. It's a little disorienting. She grabs twelve colours. The basic ones as well as a few different shades. She grabs some canvases too and walks to the front to pay. The little old lady at the front gives her a judgmental look. Valeria doesn't break eye contact as she hands over the cash.

Back home, she sets down the art supplies on the dining room table. She spreads them out and inspects them. The paints, the canvases, the brushes. She can feel her own creative spark flaring up at the sight. She puts all of it back into their respective bags and carries them over to the basement. She sets them down by the door and continues further down the hall. She walks into her bedroom. The room is tidy and free of dust. The queen bed with its light pink sheets is made, the pillows arranged against the headboard with care and precision. The day is on the hotter end, and she's sweated through her shirt. Jeans and a black long sleave clearly weren't the way to go. She digs through her wardrobe and settles on a comfortable pair of black cotton shorts and a t-shirt made of a thinner material. She gives her reflection a quick check, admiring the tattoos visible on her arms. She quickly combs her fingers through her hair then walks back out.

She picks up the bags and walks down the stairs. She reaches your door and presses an ear against the wood. There's no screaming or crying. She unlocks your door and peers inside. The light is off, but your shape beneath the covers is slightly visible from the light behind her.  You don't so much as shift when Valeria steps inside and turns on the light. She spots a few red droplets over in the corner. She's worried for a second that you did something to yourself, so she sets down the bags and speeds over to you. She grabs the edge of your blanket and yanks it down. There are a few red scratches on your forearm already beginning to scab. She relaxes when she realises it's nothing serious. She will need to cut your nails though. 

Valeria looms over you as she softly calls your name. Trying to coax you into sitting up. Despite your eyes being closed she knows you aren't sleeping.

"Hey." She murmurs. Grabbing your shoulder and giving it a small shake. "I know you're awake. Come see what I got for you." For a few seconds you remain still. The prospect of receiving something intrigues you enough to open your eyes though. Valeria respectfully steps back and watches you sluggishly rise up. You focus your blank gaze on her and then to the bags behind her. Valeria turns and drags them towards you. Setting them beside the bed. She walks back and sits down on the ground. The cement in cool and pleasant against her bare skin. You lean over the edge of your mattress and look through the first bag. Fingers grasp the rough material of a canvas, and you pull it out.

Valeria stares at you intently. Trying to discern what you're feeling. She feels frustrated at the lack of reaction. You hold the blank canvas in your lap and simply stare at it. Valeria decides it's because you're picturing what you could paint. You set it down to the side and to Valeria's pleasure, continue to look through her gifts. You take your time looking at the other canvases and all of the paints. At the sight of the brushes, you seem to perk up. She bought you ten, wanting to give you a little variety. You hold the largest brush and turn it over. Inspecting it at every angle. You softly trail a finger down the wooden handle. Raising your head, you lock eyes with Valeria.

"I know you liked to paint." Valeria says calmly. You look cute like this. You're not baring your teeth in a gleeful grin but Valeria can still tell you're happy and for that she feels smug. A month without anything for entertainment means anything new will seem far more interesting than it normally would.

You look back down at the paintbrush and Valeria takes the opportunity to approach. She shuffles over and rests an elbow on your bed. You look back at her and she gazes at you. Feeling awed by the sight of you. She has you within her grasp.

"I did." You murmur. Eyes glazing over as you retreat into your head. "I was - am - good at painting." You tell her. 

"I'll go get a cup of water; we can paint something now if you want." She says. Hoping you can't hear the satisfaction in her voice. You nod. Features soft for the first time since she took you. Valeria smiles and gets up, leaving your room. She doesn't bother locking the door. She won't be long.

Valeria hurries back down to you. Spilling some of the water on the stairs in her haste. You're sat on the floor with your paints spread out around you. Valeria realises that she forgot a palette. You don't seem to care though. You're hunched over a canvas. Dipping one of the brushes into a small splotch of green you just squirted onto the cement floor. Valeria feels the need to grab a rag and wipe it off, but she can't do it when you're finally starting to warm up to her. Valeria sits down across from you and places down the water cup between you two. Eight brushes sit off to the side and Valeria grabs one and a canvas. Starting her own painting.

Her eyes periodically shift back up to you. You're so focused that you don't take notice. Valeria is glad. She doesn't normally feel embarrassed but there's something vulnerable about painting the woman she loves. She does her best to mix colours to perfection. She remembers the detail and texture you created for the lamb painting. She tries to imitate it. To give your skin and hair life.

"Hey... Valeria?" You speak. She looks up again and stares. "... I need your opinion on something, could you come here and look at this?" Valeria sets down her canvas and moves towards you. Twisting awkwardly to look at your painting. It's a beautiful, lush landscape. She can see the brushes in her peripheral. She can hear your slightly fast breathing.

"I was wondering if I should add a cabin." She glances at the brushes again. Seven lined up side by side. She furrows her brows.  

"Um... Yeah a cabin would look nice." There should be eight.

The first time Valeria was ever stabbed was during an offence mission. She was cornered by an enemy. The feeling of his steel blade passing through the flesh and tendons of her hand didn't hurt as much as she imagined it would. It didn't hurt much at all. It just felt cold. Maybe because of the adrenaline rushing through her at the time. The rattling of your chain is the only warning she gets before the jagged edges of broken paintbrush pierce through her arm. You were quick but Valeria was quicker. Had she not blocked your attack you would've stabbed her in the side of the neck. 

The wood drags against her skin, leaving slivers as you pull it out to stab at her again. Valeria roughly grabs your arm and wrestles you into submission. You struggle and cry. Writhing beneath her. She squeezes your wrist until you're forced to let go of the paintbrush. Red runs down her arm. Dotting your painting with little red puddles. Valeria's movements are fluid and smooth as she wraps her hands around your throat. You wheeze and feebly try to fight back but Valeria only tightens her grip. Valeria feels betrayed and hurt. You attacked her, after she tried to do something nice for you, you attacked her. You start going still when she suddenly releases your throat. She glares down at you as you pant and cough. Her heart is hammering. Valeria needs to leave before she kills you. She aggressively grabs the paintbrushes and storms out of the basement. Locking the door behind her. She's given you too many chances. You're starting to run out.

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 6 (2k words)

Summary: What happened to Y/N since Valeria infiltrated the Mexican Army's headquarters. Note at the end Warnings: violence Link to A03 Links to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

[set right after the alarm went off, before Valeria arrived at the container, Y/N POV]

A chaotic cacophony raged beyond the walls of your container. It was a lot to process. The yells of men, their footsteps and commands, the gunshots, an explosion. It felt like demons had emerged from the pits of Hell and were wreaking havoc on Earth. It was all getting a bit muffled now, as though they had left the place your container was in. You supposed that the rest of the headquarters were more important to guard in a situation like this. You were a low priority in the grand scheme of things, after all. You were no drug lord, like Valeria. Or a Colonel, or a Captain, or a Commander. There was nothing really at stake resting within your container, you thought.

Other people may have felt small and despaired at the thought, but it made you happy. There were special people in this world. But they were not you. Yes, you felt important in the way that all living things are important. And yet some people were made to rule, like your wife did. You couldn’t picture Valeria ever having a quiet life. She was simply not built for it. No, she was built for this world, the world of terror and drugs. She was cunning and smart, cutthroat, and strong. She was unbreakable. And so were the others, people like Alejandro, people who forged themselves from fire and blood. The hunters of the world. Looking around the container, you felt like you belonged with the hunted. The lamb hiding with the wolves. The next best thing for someone like you was to live in the shadow of someone like Valeria. You knew that people thought that about you. That you chose the easy way out of work, that you became a drug lord’s housewife, so you didn’t have to make your living out there just like everyone else did. But that was not true. There was strength in your quietness, in your order and in your love. Somewhere beneath your tense fragility was an unyielding strength and, like the viper hiding behind a flower, it was dangerous because it was unexpected. Here you were, intimidated and frightened, and yet never giving in to the demands of tyrants. You were one of those people who, quick to laugh, are slow to anger. And yet when that anger came, it emerged unexpectedly and threatened to envelop everything in its path.

The sweetness of the breakfast bar still lingered in your mouth when you heard deliberate footsteps outside your container. You perked up at the sound and dared to hope that Valeria, or someone else from the cartel, had finally found their way back to you. The chain outside your door rattled and dropped to the floor; the door opened. You nearly jumped off your seat when the image of a human skull emerged from behind the door and looked within. It was the man with the skull mask, the one you'd met earlier. El fantasmo. His skull mask was terrifying to behold. It was a replica of a human skull that ended the lower jaw, and the rest of the image was completed by a drawn balaclava mask. Behind the mask, the skin was drawn black with paint and his dark, focused eyes looked right at you.

"She's still here, Johnny." He said and entered the room. He walked towards you, his hands reaching behind him and pulling out a set of handcuffs. "Covering you, LT," a voice said from the outside. You realised it was the man with the mohawk, the Scottish one. El fantasmo, you realised, was Lieutenant Ghost. "Get up." He said and grabbed your forearm, not gently, and lifted you out of your seat. He was massive, tall enough to tower over you and wide with muscle. His hands felt strong as he moved yours behind your back and promptly handcuffed you, tightening them enough to make them hurt. "What's happening? Where are you taking me-" "What the fuck is this?" His voice was deep, and it drowned out yours when he spoke. He reached into your breast pocket and pulled out the wrapping of the breakfast bar. He held it in his hand and the other man entered the room. "Somebody's been feeding her?" The other man, John, asked. "Looks like it. Call it in." Ghost let the paper fall on the floor. "Come here," he said and dragged you with him as he began walking out of the container. The other man spoke to his earpiece. "Soap here. Found some food wrapping on her. Look's like somebody from the inside reached her."

You felt embarrassed like you were caught doing something wrong. But they didn't blame you for it. In fact, they hardly acknowledged you at all. "Copy that, moving out now." The man said again and looked at Ghost. The masked man held your arm tighter as he dragged you after them. The sounds of gunfire hit you as you stepped out of the container and you stopped in your tracks. The absurdity of it all hit you; the violence and bloodlust, all the fighting. All for you.

“You as much as try anything,” Ghost whispered in your ear, “and I’ll break you.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he began dragging you after him with the other man trailing after you two, protecting you with his gun.

Despaired coiled around your heart like a python, tightening its grasp on you. You struggled to breathe as you were dragged into the line of fire. The rapid fire of gunshots echoed amongst the headquarters, which you had never seen. Men ran up and down the place, you stepped over fallen bullet shells which littered the floor, making it glisten like gold. You were not one of those people who found these sorts of things beautiful, someone who could polish guns and admire their beauty, the handiwork that went into them, the ways they could be customised and designed. Valeria would often tease you about it, calling you soft. Now, as you saw these guns be put to use, you could see them as nothing more than the murder machines that they were. And they were aimed right at you.

"Shit," Ghost said whilst he made both of you duck behind a wall of concrete. The other man was quick to follow behind you, firing a couple of shots in retaliation. "Why the fuck are they shooting at us?" Asked the Scottish one. "'Cause they haven't seen her yet," said Ghost. By 'they,' you guessed he meant the cartel staff. More shots were fired at you. The Scottish man forced your head down with his hand, the bullets having barely missed your head. "We're moving. Be careful, Soap, they'll try to separate us." The other man chuckled. "Let them try."

Soap fired another shot and whoever was firing at you stopped. With a pang, you realised that the other man was killed. The world blurred after that, you only moved because you were being dragged forward. Your mind could not stop wondering if you knew that man. Was it one of those that you saw come in every day to talk with Valeria? Was he one of those who, though you never met in person, had met a part of you when he ate your cooking? On special occasions, Valeria would ask you to cook a lot and invite some of her men over, a treat for those who excelled either in loyalty or performance. You were never present, but Valeria still managed to show you off when she presented all the delicacies you had prepared. Was that man there? All this death, all this blood, all this loss - for you.

A feeling of self-disgust arose and, for the first time since Alejandro puts his hands on you at the estate, you resisted. You couldn't do much with your hands cuffed behind your back, but you tugged away from Ghost, not enough to make him stop walking, but enough to make him lose balance. It wasn't because you were strong, but because, he realised, he did not expect you to do anything. You didn't stop there, you kept tugging back and forth, trying to break free of his grasp. It was not much, but this small commotion made the three of you slow down long enough for you to be recognised.

"Senora!" Someone yelled, someone from the cartel. Ghost growled angrily and slammed you against the nearest wall. "Didn't I say I'd break you if you tried anything?" His breath was hot on your skin. One of his hands was on your neck, but you felt hot too; you blazed in anger. "I'll have you killed!" You yelled at him. Surprise flickered behind the lieutenant's eyes. It made you even angrier, how dare he be surprised that you hated all this? That you could be threatened again and again, that you would be bruised and exhausted and just sit there and take all of it. How complacent did they think you were? "You hear me? I'll have all of us killed!" He didn't take his eyes off you as he spoke. "Soap, clear the way forward." But there was no reply.

Both of you broke from your locked gaze and looked to the side in surprise - the other man was not there. You realised how quiet it suddenly was, an oppressive silence that made you even more painfully aware of how trapped you were beneath Ghost's body. Rapid footsteps sounded close to you and suddenly, Ghost was slammed to the ground by someone. "¡Por aquí!" Someone said and grabbed your hand. "Senora, you okay?" You didn't know who he was, but you knew he was one of your people. "Yes," was all you could say as you ran away with him. You only caught a glimpse of Ghost being tackled by multiple people, struggling beneath the weight of all these men.

"This way, Senora. You know the way." He said and eventually stopped running. You looked around and saw, on the floor, a hole. "El Sin Nombre said you know how to use this. I'll be right behind you, Senora. Our people are on the other side." Hearing those words made you so happy, you almost cried. "What about Valeria? Is she here?" You asked. The man saw the tender look in your eyes, the desperation behind it. It was too much, he looked away. "She'll be right there, Senora." And with that, you plunged yourself into the cold darkness of the tunnel. You moved far enough for the man to come in after you. You had no torch on you, after all. But the man never followed through. "Senor?" You asked, but there was no reply.

All of a sudden, you became aware of how bad it smelled in there. But it was not the smell of dirt or of animals. It was the stench of cigars, a smoke that threatened to choke you but yet held a sweetness that was unlike the sharp smell of regular cigarettes. A light flickered in the darkness and you realised there was someone smoking in there, waiting. "Yeah," said a deep, British voice. He took a long puff from his cigar, the orange light burning brightly in the darkness that enveloped both of you. From that little flicker of light, you could see two piercing blue eyes staring at you, and a face covered by a well-groomed beard. The world above was muffled, gone.

"I'll take it from here, sweetheart." He said and lunged for you. Only darkness followed.

When you finally came to, the day was already over. Groggily, you awoke to find yourself in a transportation van, your hands and feet shackled by chains. Opposite you sat the man you saw before, the one with the cigar. "Sorry for the trouble, miss. But you know how these things are." Captain Price saw the frantic, lost look on your face and felt something he hadn't felt in quite some time; pity. "You're being transferred to prison. You'll be settled soon enough, new clothes and everything." You didn't even look at him, though he knew you could understand him. Instead, you gazed outside the window. The Captain only ever heard you say one word:

"Valeria."

"If it makes you feel any better, she's in the van behind us."

Note: I'm struggling with Y/N, I feel like I made her too passive, even though that's kind of what I was going for with her. In the next part, she gets reunited with Valeria (finally!) We're reaching the end of this fic, thank you for reading so far x I'm struggling with writing at the moment because I started my master's and I'm having some health issues, but I'll try my best! I'm also thinking of doing a spin-off with Valeria and Y/N on how they met and ran away.

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp @@sae1kie @00ops1e

[the-barnes-girl]

Hello! My name is Rebecca Barnes Delacroix, but just call me Becca. I’m a retired army nurse circa wwii, family caretaker, mother and sister, amongst other thing

I’m twenty-six years old and bisexual, if you’ve heard of me, it’s either because my brother is the White Wolf, or because my wife runs one of the largest mafias in NYC

Family

Mom - @winnifred-winni-barnes

Ma - @sarahrogers-steviesmum

Wife!! - @madame-valeria-delacroix

Brothers - @buckybarnesoffical @barnes-jamesbuchanan-official @official-buckybarnes @white-wolf-actually @justawhitewolf @hydrabucky

Sisters - @capt-carter-mostly-official

Children - @asta-barnes-rogers @chaotic-castle

Rules

- no nsfw

- no homophobia, racism, transphobia, sexism, xenophobia, antisemitism, etc.

mod: @over-bi-the-wayside

[honeeyduck]

141 unhinged headcanon

Soap Gaz Ghost Price Roach Alex

Soap, when on leave, sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter. Originally started to rizz up some girl, stayed to heal his trauma with dogs.

Gaz can’t braid his own hair and is too scared to go to any place near base for his hair. Alex learned to braid from YouTube and has been doing Gaz’ braids ever since.

Ghost has an unspoken obsession with animal crossing. Catch him at 4am with his switch slapping villagers with his net and decorating his island.

Price can’t STAND eggs. He gets the ick super hard every time. Soap made his eggs once time and they were slimy now he won’t eat them at all.

Alex never learned to ride a bike.

Roach used to eat bugs as a kid, did it once’s as an adult said it wasn’t too bad.

Never open soaps door without knocking. One time Ghost walked in on Soap recreating the “goodbye horses” scene from silence of the lambs and didn’t speak to soap for 3 weeks.

Soap thinks it’s funny putting rubber snakes in Ghosts boots. Ghost never told Soap he has trauma with snakes but still expects to him to know anyways.

Gaz has a boyfriend. He is a chef and only ever cooks gaz’s favorite foods when he is home.

Against what everyone says about him, Soap isn’t a manwhore. He is waiting for his “perfect someone”. He still fucks around but he keeps it classy✨

Price was married once. A military dependent kinda of marriage but he was married. They still talk from time to time.

Laswell frequently brings sweets to the base, brownies cookies sometimes cakes. They don’t last long but she always makes sure Price has one first.

Ghost hates the taste of oranges but loves orange juice. Prefers with pulp.

Alex saw Farah trip over a pebble and absolutely eat shit. He never told her he saw it cus he thought it was embarrassing. He did laugh though.

Roach can’t sleep sometimes so he runs in the darkness like he is being chased by a monster. Some nights it feels way too real, the trees rustling and twigs snapping, it’s Ghost. He likes scaring people.

Speaking of

Ghost genuinely enjoys scaring people. Standing in dark corners, sneaking up behind people, standing over you when you try to relax. He loves the feeling of being unseen until he wants to be seen.

Soap is religious. Wears a cross around his neck, always gets it blessed before going on a mission. Take the time on the helo to say a prayer for him and his team’s safety.

Price walked Laswell down the aisle the day of her wedding. Cried when he had to hand her away to her new wife.

Gaz has drinks 10 energy drinks in one day just to get his work done. Tried to cut back, ends up drinking coffee

Alex used to live on a farm.

Ghost does in fact know Spanish. Alejandro didn’t ask him specifically if he spoke Spanish he only asked soap so he just never told him.

Soap didn’t learn any useful Spanish in Las Almas. He only learned “hijo de puta” doesn’t know what it means.

Gaz speaks French. Learned it in school never used it.

Alex only speaks English. Can understand basic Arabic.

Konïg horangi rudy Alejandro

Konïg has terrible insomnia. Can only sleep with a stuffy. Had 3 stuffys , they all have names.

Despite being piss poor at it, horangi still gambles, opting to gamble with KorTac over chores and snacks.

Alejandro used to date Rudy’s cousin. It made things really weird. Rudy was relieved when alejandro told him it didn’t work out.

Alejandro doesn’t eat refried beans. Something about the texture.

Konïg tried to make Korean food for horangi so he didn’t get some sick. Horangi got food poisoning instead.

Horangi is an excellent cook.

Rudy and Alejandro share a room at their base. They have bunk beds. Rudy is top bunk always.

Alejandro used to spray fart spray on Valeria’s stuff, anything he could get his hands on would smell like a fowl fart.

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Bloodhound. (A Ghost x AFAB!reader fic)

Act One, Chapter Four: The Fool

Hey all! I hope you enjoy this chapter as I had a lot of fun writing this one! :)

As per usual, apologies for any grammar mistakes. Exam season is coming in thick and fast too, around May to June, so momentum for this fic will be slowing down by a lot. You guys have been so patient so far and I'm very grateful for it.

Word count: 6,327

Warnings: Threats of violence, strong language, horror elements, Y/N having a bit of a moment, and Ghost and Soap being a pair of daft himbos.

Ghost and Soap really are the epitome of 'tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber'. Yes, Ghost is mean and moody, hot and broody, but I also believe that when he gets comfortable with someone, he loses about 95% of his intelligence.

“Aha!” He got out a small red bag with a white cross on it. “Roll it up so I can see what we’re dealing with here.”

23 shifted awkwardly, refusing.

Graves sighed, “Kid, you gotta help me out. I’m the one with the first aid kit and you’re the one with the bleeding knee. Let me have a look and try to sort this out.”

Again, she refused, shrinking away from him a little. Phillip rolled his eyes under his mask and then made for her, reaching forward to bring her closer to him. The child soldier backed up even further, almost falling off the tree stump she was sitting on as she swatted his hand away.  He muttered a curse under his breath and turned around.

“72,” he called, “could you tell your, uh… Could you tell 23 here that I need her to show me the injury so I can fix it?”

“He’s not got any intentions of hurting you, 23,” 72 said, not looking up from her crossword, “You can see for yourself.”

Eventually, the younger of the two girls came around and rolled up her trouser leg to expose her knee. Graves winced a little as the injury was revealed. It was a nasty scrape, not too deep, but it definitely looked like it hurt. The joint itself was a little swollen too.

“I think you might have sprained it,” he remarked, bringing the leg closer to his concealed face.

“It really hurts.”

“I’m sure it does, hun.”

As he got to cleaning up the blood and debris of gravel with an antiseptic wipe, 7629 approached and set down a small bowl beside him.

“Thanks.”

“You better eat quickly. I think Valeria’s gonna be up soon.”

“Roger.”

He briefly stopped tending to 23, removing his hand from her leg to feel around for the release-mechanism on his canister-less mask. Phillip couldn’t remember how exactly he ended up with no canisters on his face, but, then again, he couldn’t exactly remember how ended up unconscious, on top of Valeria… who was also unconscious, looking like she had just escaped from an animal attack. The woman’s clothes had been torn in a pattern of scratch marks, with a shallow but still painful bite on her shoulder.

He was still puzzled as to how she got those slashes and how he ended up covered in blood too, with bite marks of his own littering his forearms…  because he was still denying it was him.

Phillip was also denying that he had any part to play in 23’s sprained and bloody knee.

No one had told him anything useful about what had happened to the kid too, just that she had tripped trying to run away from someone. 72 had mentioned offhandedly that she had gone looking for him once the dust had settled and the pack had cleared the area of hostiles but…yeah, at this point he’d rather not know.

He took a spoonful of whatever 7418 had cooked up in that cheap-looking iron pot, only to almost faint from sheer delight.

Phillip never thought he’d see the day when he’d experience a ‘foodgasm’.

“Holy shit!” he said with a mouthful of the stuff, “What the fuck did you do to this, ‘418?!”

7418 shrugged, shaking his head as he chuckled, watching over the bubbling pot.

Graves was certain it had to be mutton or something, the texture reminding him of lamb. He had no idea how 7418 had managed to make something so good from mere camping food. He knew the guy had brought little jars of spices with him, catching the scent of them as he walked past 7418’s rucksack every now and then. The other guys, who had known him longer, appeared to have this running gag about him being the Las Almas cartel’s cook, as opposed to an ex-sicario, as shown by 7152 slapping him lightly on the back and addressing him as ‘Chef Ramsey’.

Anyways, Graves took one more spoonful of his dinner and quickly got back to patching up 23.

“I don’t want this getting any worse,” he mumbled as he got out a large plaster, “You stay close to 72 and you don’t get into the heat of the action. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she sighed.

“I’m not having two kids dying on my watch. You help when I say you can, and you stay out of it when I say you do.”

She nodded.

“And that goes for you too, 72!”

The other girl gave him a thumbs-up, still working through her crossword. 

Phillip shuddered at the mere thought of losing these two. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a good person per se, but the man had morals. Children. Children were where he would draw the line. Furthermore, judging by how the other guys didn’t really have much regard for them, he knew he would have to take it upon himself to ensure their safety. Graves just hoped they wouldn’t make that too difficult for him. 

He pouted a little as he saw 23’s melancholy expression. 

“You’re fine, 23.” 

That didn’t really do much to cheer her up.

Then, Graves had an idea. He got up and moved a few feet to kneel down by the supply bags. After retrieving the desired item, he returned to kneeling before 23, presenting it to her.

“Hey!” he called for her attention, “At least your little camcorder didn’t break during your fall.”

A small smile crept onto her face as she took it from him, eager to start flicking through any footage she captured. A warmth found itself building in Phillip’s chest as he watched on, relief sweeping over him as he saw some colour and some cheeriness return to his lamia. 

That was when someone lightly tapped him on the shoulder. 

“She’s up, 7223.”

He nodded and thanked 7629. Then, he got up, told 23 to stay put and 72 to watch over her, before taking his leave. Not wanting his food to go cold, Phillip took his bowl with him, wolfing down a few more spoonfuls as his fellow soldier led him to where they had put Valeria.

Her eyes fluttered open, and Valeria was quick to pick up on the fact both her arms and her legs had been restrained. The wilderness which engulfed Las Almas was where she found herself. With a grunt, she struggled a little against the restraints, to test how securely they had been wrapped around her. Her legs had been bound by wiry rope and her arms were brought around and secured together behind her. Well, behind a tree. Valeria had been cuffed to a tree trunk. 

As her vision cleared up, she saw three figures approaching from the small gathering a few metres ahead. She kept her head high, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. However, her captors could easily see through her facade of confidence, hearing her heart race inside her chest. 7629 couldn’t help but salivate a little, hackles raising, his mind filled with blood-drunk thoughts of a tasty meal. 

Graves too could sense her blood rushing through her body. So… much… of… it. He shook away the urges, a little unnerved by them. 

“So,” Valeria sighed, shoulders slumping a little, “what do you want this time, lobos?”

“We have a job for you.” The one in the middle spoke.

More specifically, the American one. 

Valeria felt a shiver run down her spine. He was the one who half-ate Alvaro and almost devoured her too.

“Job?” she scoffed, putting on a mask of her own, of being unfazed and unafraid, “I don’t take orders anymore. I can offer intel to the Foundation, but I won’t do jobs.”

“You see, that’s the problem.” The American one feigned an apologetic sigh. “We have all the intel we need so bartering your way out of this with information ain’t gonna help.”

His voice was much clearer with his mouthpiece removed and mask drawn up to reveal some of his face. Now, Valeria knew why she recognised him from the scuffle.

“Graves?” she asked, almost timidly, “Phillip Graves, is that you?”

“Hi, Valeria.” He grinned, his voice coming out almost like a purr. 

Her heart threatened to burst, blood rushing in her ears. She could feel herself begin to quiver a little. 

“I saw you die. Your tank exploded. You would have been literal pieces…”

“It’s amazing what we can achieve with modern medicine, isn’t it?” he chuckled, resting his hands on his knees as he leaned in. 

This was bad. This was really bad. The Foundation wanted him to be here for a reason. They wanted him here because he had connections. He was very much relevant to whatever task these lot were undertaking.

Alejandro, Rudy, and the rest were in grave danger. 

Her tan skin had paled a little, breaths becoming shallow, as she stared at him with wide eyes. 

“What does the Foundation want with the Vaqueros?”

“It’s not the Vaqueros we’re after.”

Valeria chewed on the inside of her cheek, already dreading the answer to her next question. The woman prayed that they already knew the information she was about to divulge in her question, or she would end up giving those boys away.

“What does the Foundation want with Task Force 141?”

“A client has a target we need to make a Son out of,” another spoke up from behind Phillip, “and we need you to deliver the infection.”

Valeria felt a cold sensation run through her. 

“Why me?”

“Does it matter?”

The woman had an idea. Most likely, it was to keep the element of surprise for when they’d extract their new packmate. On the other hand, though, they could’ve kidnapped anyone else to do that. This was personal. Well, she sighed, that is the Foundation. They held grudges and they held power. No one, ex-lamia or ex-gorgon, was ever truly a free woman.

She didn’t want to do this. She really didn’t. Infecting someone with this… that would be delivering them a fate worse than death. Valeria was sick but there were still a few morals lingering at the back of her mind. Morals that were coming to the forefront now. The angel on her shoulder was screaming at her to just let them kill her and find someone else to be their personal postman. 

Graves tilted his head to one side, impatience growing as Valeria’s silence dragged on. 

Whilst Valeria’s reluctance was the dominant, screeching voice inside her head, her logical side was still very much part of this internal debate… and it argued well. 

Death for her was… not ideal. 

Valeria didn’t want to die but she also didn’t want to be part of this twisted game of ‘Pass the Parcel’. 

“Well,” the logical part of her argued, “you wouldn’t really be part of this game, not voluntarily, anyway.”

 Besides, word was, on the street, that a runaway lamia was sighted in their hepta-plate armour just on the outskirts of Las Almas. Yes, it wouldn’t be ideal to foist another problem onto that poor person but… wouldn’t they mind helping a fellow sister out? Valeria prayed that the rogue lamia would stay long enough to cross paths with the monster she was about to help create. 

Her hands were tied, both literally and figuratively.

Valeria swallowed hard, desperately trying to cling to her slipping facade of fearless strength. 

One of the hounds behind Phillip growled, hackles raising a little. 

“Valeria,” 7418 began, “do you want to know what we’re having for dinner tonight?”

He pointed to the bowl of food Graves had set on the ground. 

No, she didn’t want to know. 

He chuckled. 

"Te lo diré, de todos modos. ¡Es uno de tus sicarios y será mejor que empieces a cumplir o te unirás a ellos en un maldito caldo!"

"I'll tell you, anyway. He's one of your hitmen and you'd better start complying or join them in a damn broth!" was what he had said.

She sighed resignedly, horrified but not surprised. They were nothing but animals after all. At this point, Arcadian Sons gloating about which friend of hers they had eaten wouldn’t do much but cement the fact that they were rotten to the core, infected with both disease and whatever long-harboured spite had been brewing away inside them from their time as corpses.

She really should have been grateful that they hadn’t made a meal out of her yet. The fact that they were choosing conversation over tearing her throat out was something not to be taken lightly.

“At this point, boys, I don’t care. Kill, eat, pillage, destroy… I…”

Valeria couldn’t even bring herself to say it. ‘El Sin Nombre’ had given her an illusion of control and now, she had found she, in fact, had only been playing pretend. Those men were always so good at reminding her of who she was. They were an annoying constant which bridged the gap between her old and new life. Valeria loved power, until now, because now she had realised she had never even had a true taste of it. Valeria had been merely toying with the idea. 

Real power was holed up in the heart of the Foundation, wearing a white coat and ticking boxes on a checklist. 

Real power was also lording over her, dangling these men, these puppets, over her head, as if to say, “You’re still mine.”

It was always wise to recognise when you only have one choice, and Valeria could see it now. She had to do what she was told. The woman just hoped that there was someone else further down the line who could minimise the damage that would ensue from making this decision. 

“I’ll do it. I’ll lure them out and infect the target. Give me all the information I need.”

Her voice had no emotion. That passionate, brazen cartel queen was gone. All that was left was someone tired. Someone who just wanted this to be over and done with. Like that, the woman was back to square one. Broken and afraid, with nowhere to go but to the Mexican military, with the hopes that maybe she could make a living putting some of her skills to good use. 

“Muy bien.” Graves smiled.

“On the condition,” Valeria added, “you leave me be… for good.”

“You know we can’t promise that.” 7629 spoke up. 

It was worth a try, Valeria supposed. 

Graves turned around to address the men, “I’ll give Valeria, here, the intel she needs to complete the job. I’ll inform both you and her of what the agreed signal will be to notify success. Once we receive that signal, we’ll plan for the extraction. Understood, boys?”

“Yup!”

“Yup!”

Phillip nodded and returned to Valeria. 

“Your target is…”

Oh God…

She braced herself. 

“... Simon Riley.”

Huh?

“Who?” the woman asked, brows furrowing.

Graves smiled, fangs glinting in the dim light of the central campfire. 

“You may know him as ‘Ghost’.”

Her stomach dropped. 

“This is some reunion! Don’t you agree?” Phillip chuckled, picking up his bowl and taking his leave, “I’ll tell you all you need in ten, Valeria.”

She cast her gaze to the ground, staring daggers into the soil, too afraid to direct them at Graves’ back; lest he sensed her look of indignation and did something about it.

“We’re not too different, you and I, Commander Graves.” 

He halted, a little unnerved by her robotic, yet somewhat condescending, tone. 

Turning around, Phillip looked at Valeria with a concealed face of slight confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“We’re both trapped- slaves to the Foundation. You’ll never be rid of them, you know. This is only just the beginning.”

She slowly moved to meet his face, head resting against the tree bark, her body not bothered enough to correct her slumped posture. 

“Uniforms were always limitations for you and now look where you are, what you are.”

“I’ll cope,” he replied, through clenched teeth. 

“You’re already struggling.” 

She was just trying to stir him up, to try and get one over him. He wasn’t going to give in and entertain her, though. Valeria would just have to remain bound to a tree until they’d have need of her for their plan. 

“By blood, we are bound,” the woman chuckled wryly, “You’ll be a soldier forever now, Graves.”

“Well, not forever,” he spoke patronisingly, setting down in front of her again, “One day, I’ll die and then I’ll be a soldier no more.”

“That’s if the Foundation is merciful.” 

Cold ran through him. Graves growled a string of obscenities under his breath and got back up, shaking his head. Valeria followed him with her eyes, watching him finish his meal and press down on his mask. Once again, he was back to being a faceless monster, any remnants of his humanity being locked away under that awful, awful mask.

***

You were pacing back and forth in the small supply closet you had managed to find. You should’ve waited with Soap, not been a coward. However, you also knew that you’d probably end up sitting there for five minutes, jigging your leg up and down, before becoming too restless and running away anyways. There was really only one option here.

Sighing, you stopped your pacing and leaned against a wall, before sinking down and landing on your bum. You drew your knees to your chest, hugging them as you contemplated just how much trouble you were in with Laswell. 

Could you even quantify it? 

A little whimper escaped your lips. 

How on Earth were you a lamia? You were the most spineless coward you knew!

Perhaps that was why everyone else had died that night except for you. 

Oh God… 

How could people in the army voluntarily do this?!

Which then begged the question of why you had decided to take up that challenge to go against Ghost.

‘Ego’ was most likely the answer. 

You wanted to impress, to fit in, to befriend them, maybe start a few inside jokes. You thought that’s what army men liked doing: beating each other up and then cracking jokes about it. 

The problem was that you were no army man, and you didn’t really find entertainment in beating your mates up. You didn’t really like violence altogether. 

You wanted to be a normal person, have a normal job, you know? Take trains, type on computers, drink expensive drinks from… what was that place called that people spoke about… ‘Barstucks’?

Laswell could sense it in you from the moment you arrived: a monster trying to become human. You thought, maybe because she had experience in that department, she could teach you a few things. 

Now, you had your doubts. Maybe she hadn’t had that experience. After all, she was in the military, using the same skills, just for different bosses. Laswell was still a lamia, just not the Foundation’s. 

Other free women you had heard about had either gone into crime or… well, didn’t last very long.

Maybe you couldn’t be a normal human. 

You buried your face into your knees. 

Laswell had been running all over the place to find you. She had asked Gaz, gone back to see if you had returned to Soap, grabbed Price by the shoulders and shaken him, raving on about how you were… well, the best she could put was ‘fragile’. 

She supposed the one good thing to come out of this was that in the hour she had spent hunting around, building up a small party consisting of Gaz, Rudy, Price and Alejandro, Ghost had managed to recover somewhat.

Soap was so happy when he saw Ghost come out of the medical room, a little sore but mostly alright. He had practically leapt out of his seat, fussing over the man the moment he had made his exit.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Soap rejoiced, feeling relieved upon seeing Ghost look like his usual, albeit slightly mysterious, self.

“Relax, Johnny, it’s not like I was going to die.” Ghost sighed, rolling his shoulders, his body still waking up.

“I was more worried for yer future kids!” The Scotsman elbowed Ghost playfully.

“For a second I was too but the doc said I was fine. Apparently, I was just ‘shocked’.”

“Shocked?!” Soap couldn’t believe it, “Are you telling me that Y/N actually managed to gain the element of surprise over you?”

Ghost shrugged. 

“No way! Someone actually did it! Someone out-Ghosted you!” 

Soap couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I’m glad you’re having fun at my expense.”

“Come on! It’s a bit funny. That tiny, little-”

“Okay, Y/N isn’t that small.”

“Well, compared to you, anyways. That little minx! They absolutely out-Ghosted you!”

Ghost sighed… and then realised something. Y/N definitely packed quite a punch. Quite a big punch. Almost too big of a punch, for someone of their size. 

“Speaking of Y/N,” he looked over to Soap, before continuing in a hushed voice, “Don’t you think they were a bit too strong?”

Soap cast his mind back to the fight. Yeah. Now that he thought about it, there was a moment that he could only describe as… odd. You had thrown Ghost over your shoulder like he was nothing but a sack of potatoes. Pairing that with the rather strong handshake you had introduced yourself with to MacTavish… hmm… He stroked his chin. Strange.  

“Aye. I mean, Y/N had, uh, quite a firm handshake too.”

“What do you mean?” Ghost asked, raising an eyebrow under his mask.

“When I shook hands with them, yesterday, I… They held onto me quite, you know, strongly. Felt like they were going to take my arm with them!”

“Something’s off about them.”

“Sure! But Laswell did say they were weirdly socialised from a young age or something.”

“Having an odd upbringing doesn’t make you freakishly strong, Soap.” Ghost shook his head, letting out a breathy laugh. 

“Oh, and how would you know that, Simon?”

He remained quiet, looking at Soap knowingly, before quickening his pace.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” MacTavish asked.

He chased after Ghost, breaking into a light jog. 

“Oi! Simon! What do yer mean by that?!”

Suddenly, Ghost stopped in his tracks. 

“Do you hear that?” 

“What?”

“Come here.”

Ghost gestured for the man to press his ear against the door of the supply closet. Soap did so, after picking away at some of the peeling paint. He did a few seconds’ worth of listening before looking back at his friend. 

“Is someone in there?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Who hangs around in a broom cupboard?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Gently, Ghost opened the door, light spilling into the darkness. He looked this way and that, sticking his head into the closet. 

You held your breath, shrinking into the shadows, hoping they’d lose interest soon. 

“I don’t see anyone, Ghost.”

He hummed in reply, though it wasn’t in agreement. 

“Hello?”

“Lt, with all due respect, I think you’re talking into a void right now.”

“Shh!” Ghost snapped back. 

Soap rolled his eyes, before catching sight of a vending machine sitting by the doorway to the canteen. 

“While you’re poking through broom cupboards, I’m gonna go grab a snack. Want anything?”

Ghost didn’t reply, instead taking a step into the closet. 

MacTavish shrugged, letting Ghost continue his investigation whilst he went to get himself a cereal bar or something. He thought he needed one after the day he’d had. Ghost would probably want one too, though Soap knew the man would begrudgingly take it from him… as he always did. Ghost seldom liked to rely on others, and it was a recent breakthrough for MacTavish to get him to even take offered food. 

Soap wandered off to pursue some sugary delights as Ghost fully immersed himself in the darkness of the supply closet. 

Someone was here, he knew it. The lieutenant had developed a sense for these types of situations, it was like he could sniff a person out. Anyways, he peered around, lifting miscellaneous bits and pieces off the ground, seeing if anyone lay under them. 

You shrunk away even further, hoping he’d drop it and leave, wanting to be alone. 

Unfortunately, Ghost found you. He removed the bundle of brooms and mops which had sheltered your sulking body. 

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him before your eyes fell to the ground. 

“Go away.” You mumbled. 

“Wow. You kick me in the balls and now you’re telling me to ‘go away’. Awfully kind of you,” he chuckled, taking a seat beside you, wincing a little as he landed on a sore spot.

You shuffled away from him, withdrawing further and further into your cocoon of sadness. You reminded Ghost of a kicked puppy, which was kind of ironic seeing as you were the one who had done the kicking, but anyways, he wasn’t oblivious, he could tell you weren’t happy. 

“Usually when I see someone realising they’ve fucked up, it makes me feel quite good,” Ghost remarked, “but for some reason, Y/N, you’re really bringing my mood down looking like this.”

You grumbled something, but he couldn’t make out what it was, your knees muffling your voice.

“How long have you been sulking in this broom cupboard?”

Again, you mumbled something. 

“What was that?”

“I’m not sulking,” you growled.

“It looks like you’re sulking.”

Finally, you released yourself from your prison and stretched your legs out, sighing. 

“I… I just feel bad, Ghost. I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t.”

You turned to face him, a little surprised.

“You looked scared,” he admitted, staring ahead, “I wasn’t going to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I look scared?”

“Yeah. When I was coming to help you up. you looked at me, but I…” He scratched the back of his head, trying to find the words. “I don’t think you saw me.”

Being in this profession long enough, Ghost knew the signs of trauma when he saw them. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the leader of this motley crew, that title belonged to Price, but he was still a lieutenant. He still had to take care of people in some form, and while you weren’t really part of anyone’s group, that caring instinct took hold of him. 

You sat there in silence, face twisting a little as you digested his sentence. Ghost turned to look at you, leaning in a little but being measured about it, hoping to not frighten you off. 

“Are you okay, Y/N? I’m not usually good with this, but do you need to talk to someone?”

Your lip wibbled, tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t know what was happening, but this surge of emotion overcame you. Body trembling, shoulders tensing, you felt it coming up your throat. 

You cried. 

You cried and cried and cried. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks and into your hands as you brought them to your face. As you clutched your head, fingers threatening to dig into your eyes, Ghost just sat there, unsure of what to do. 

He had expected that you would start howling like a banshee, but it never came to that. Instead, muffled sobs and sniffles filled the silence of the supply closet. 

As you trembled, you felt a light touch on your shoulder and back. Then, a force pulled you until you hit something fairly solid. 

Instinctually, you nestled into his warmth, still crying. Ghost stared off into the distance, letting you have this moment, unjudged, to just let it all out. 

Laswell had said you had been through a lot, and now, he was certain of it.��

Several footsteps sounded outside, suggesting the presence of a group of people hurrying along the corridor. The murmur of voices came along with it, growing louder as the party drew nearer. 

“Okay, this is the last place we haven’t checked.” Ghost recognised Price’s gravelly voice. 

“I’ll have a look inside, you lot keep an eye out for them around here,” Kate replied.

She came in, only to see you resting against Ghost, eyes squeezed shut as you continued to cry. 

Laswell made to approach, but Ghost raised his hand.

“Give them a moment. I’ll let Y/N know you wanted to see them.” He whispered. 

She let out a sigh. 

“If you start feeling weird, leave them and eat raisins.”

Before Ghost could ask one of the many questions floating around his head after that bizarre statement, Kate left. 

Go eat raisins? 

The way she had said it almost sounded like medical advice. What did Kate mean by that? 

His eyes narrowed a little, but he wasn't going to pay too much attention to it. He supposed if it came to it, he’d just do as she said and ask his questions later. Ghost was pretty sure he wouldn’t start ‘feeling strange’. 

However, gradually, Ghost began to notice an unfamiliar sensation overcome him: profound sadness. The feeling sort of made itself home at the back of his mind, being just about ignorable, but he found it curious. This probably sounded nuts saying it aloud, but Ghost felt as though this emotion didn’t belong to him. 

He looked at you. You had stopped crying now and had resorted to staring off into space, your tear-stained face haloed by the light pooling in from the open door. You had entered the numbness stage, not really feeling anything. Although, you did know things were still intense, bubbling just under the surface, because you could sense it had transferred to Ghost, like a faint, developing stain on his mind. 

It was probably best to conclude this ‘exchange’ and go your separate ways. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping away some of your tears from his shirt with your sleeve, “Your top is probably really gross now.”

He let out a small chuckle as he watched you do your best to neaten yourself up, moving your hair aside and wiping away any signs of sadness on your face. 

As you made to get up, you felt him gently stop you. 

A lump in your throat formed as you locked eyes with him.

Ghost wanted to ask who you were, what you were, knowing full well you had had some effect on him… However, there was a time and place for those questions, and he understood that you probably wouldn’t like being interrogated. And so, he let you leave.

“Go eat raisins, they’ll, uh, help,” you blurted out before spinning on your heel and scampering off.

Raisins, again. Ghost’s brows knitted together under his mask. He decided he would take that advice… just in case.

Finally, you had space to breathe… well, you thought you did. Your hopes were quickly quashed as you halted at the sight of Laswell, standing a few feet ahead of you, down the corridor, arms folded, unimpressed.

You gulped.

She ushered you into the bathroom and closed the door. Then, she took a deep breath, before returning to face you.

“Y/N… I…” she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, “Look, if you want to blend into normal society, you gotta-”

“I’m leaving,” you cut her off, “I don’t think I’m any good here.”

Laswell was shocked.

“Y/N, no. You can’t. I still haven’t sorted out-”

“It’s fine. Just put it on my lexicon.”

“I don’t have a lexicon to transfer the information to yours.”

“What?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“This is my point. People out there don’t have lexicons. The guys here aren’t anything like the Arcadian Sons back at the Foundation. They’re not as strong. They can’t change. None of it. You’re not weak here.”

Laswell made to approach you and felt her heart sink a little as she watched you back up.

“Y/N, I can help you find a way to keep the Foundation off your tail but once you’re out there, you need to understand that you are not weak. We lamias are insanely potent, and that potency can seriously hurt people. You have to promise me that you’ll be careful. Being human isn’t easy.”

“Laswell, I wasn’t going to hurt him!” you shook your head, voice shaking a little as you laughed, nervously, “I know that these guys and the people out there are not the same as those in the Foundation. I’m not stupid!”

“I just need you to be careful. I have seriously hurt people and I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“Yes, I-”

“Shh!”

Laswell’s demeanour suddenly changed. She looked about, alert, pupils dilated.

“Someone’s eavesdropping.”

You tried to suss out who it was too, looking about just as Kate was.

“Who?” you asked.

Soap stood on the other side of the door, plastered against the wall, covering his mouth.

“Mactavish,” Laswell whispered under her breath.

Soap shuddered.

He looked down and saw the handle on the door begin to turn. Almost immediately, he took off.

The door swung open, and Kate peered out to an empty corridor. She hoped Soap hadn’t heard too much, sighing resignedly.

“Y/N,” she kept composed, continuing the conversation, “don’t overthink this. Just be aware of your strengths. The world’s not made of glass, but it easily can be if you’re not careful. I’m still working on contacting someone who can get your records deleted and make you officially not Red Room property, but it’s gonna take some time. Stay here in the meantime and keep calm, I don’t need you turning my boys into messes.”

“I’ll do my best. And I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Learn your lesson and stick to where I can keep an eye on you.”

You nodded, your mind wandering back to Ghost.

Laswell picked up on it.

“Ghost’s a good one. But don’t crowd him, he likes being mysterious and aloof.”

She chuckled as she watched you flounder, trying to excuse your sudden interest.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Kate. I’ll try.”

***

Ghost, for some odd reason, had volunteered to be on night watch again. Everyone was surprised and seriously discouraged him, especially after his little accident with you. However, all pleas for him to just go to bed fell on deaf ears. He was stubborn as a mule and adamant to be on lookout for the night.

Soap had initially joined the discouragement but soon was elated to have his mate with him. They both trekked the halls, looking around for any signs worthy of suspicion.  

It had been a pretty quiet night, with little to nothing happening.

That was until the howling started.

Soap had gone from reclining in his chair on the ‘front porch’ of the base to sitting bolt upright, gun at the ready. Ghost gestured for him to lower his weapon.

“What was that?” Soap whispered.

Ghost shrugged, throwing a raisin up in the air, only to miss it as he tried to catch it with his mouth.

“Coyotes or something.”

“Nah!” Soap shook his head. “That’s too deep to belong to a coyote. It almost sounds like a person!”

“Coyotes sometimes sound like that,” Ghost remarked, stretching his legs out, “Remember when we were interrogating Hassan? Those coyotes sounded like a bunch of wailing women.”

“Freaky stuff.”

He watched Soap swallow hard, reclining back into his seat, albeit reluctantly.

“Awooo…” Ghost let out, with a snicker.

“Simon, that’s not funny.”

“Awooo! A-A-Awoooo!” The lieutenant howled into the night.

“Simon, shut up!”

Soap struck at him, lightly, only to then whip his head around at the sound.

“AWOOOOOO!” the forest replied.

Soap felt chills run up and down his spine. Ghost watched his face grow pale.

“Come on, Johnny, let’s go inside if you’re that spooked.”

He got up from the dinky chair and gestured for Soap to follow and he did so, not taking his eyes off the trees, deeply unnerved by the sounds of the night.

As they walked down the corridors, Soap stopped by your bag. He shined his torch at it, curiosity spurring him on to investigate.

“Those are Y/N’s things,” Ghost spoke with a stern voice, “Leave ‘em.”

“You know,” Soap mumbled as he squatted down before the open duffel bag, something shining between the lips of the open zip, “I think Y/N might be something supernatural, and so is Laswell.”

“Laswell?” Ghost raised an eyebrow under his balaclava.

“Aye. I think they’re both the same… thing?”

“Johnny, I don’t think we should be looking through Y/N’s shit. Let’s keep moving-”

CRASH!

“Soap!” Ghost snapped.

MacTavish’s eyes widened as he investigated the spilt contents of your bag, lightly holding a sleeve of your hepta-plate armour.

“What is this stuff?”

Now, Ghost was curious. He knelt down beside Soap, peering at it.

“It’s… shiny.”

He ran his finger over the scale-like texture of your chest piece, only to then reach the centre. There was a larger chunk at the heart of the armour and, wanting to see if it was a button or something, he gently gave it two taps.

They both gasped as they watched the entire raiment vanish from existence, only to then fizzle back like a glitching television screen.

“Oh my God,” was all Soap could say.

Ghost was stunned into silence, feeling the foreign fabric between his thumb and index finger.

“Who is Y/N?” he muttered, examining how the scales of your armour reflected the torchlight, iridescent, like the shell of a beetle.

As Ghost was about to activate the shroud mechanism again, someone from behind spoke up.

“What are you two doing?”

They both stood up and turned around, hearts kicking up a notch as they realised it was you.

You had your arms folded over your chest, your foot tapping on the floor as you eagerly awaited their excuses for going through your things.

“Y/N!” Soap remarked, “Uh…”

Ghost knew the Scotsman was going to start digging a hole for the two of them, hence why he elbowed him. Soap promptly shut up.

“I see you’re having another late-night stroll.” Ghost gestured at your… uh… clearly-being-up-ness.

[thecottoncandylamb]

Reunions (Or Lamb is terrible at titles)

Here it is. The first of the many, many one shots that I wrote because I'm mentally ill and just want Jones and the Foundation to be in love.

It had been almost 3 years since they had seen each other, and Jones’ world couldn’t be more different. After altering time, the former IO agent had found himself on a new version of the Island, filled to the brim with unfamiliar faces and voices. This time, it carried the name “Helios”, and like every other Island before it, it was in a war for its life. Filled with Loopers and factions, citizens and militaristic groups, it felt the same as every place he had been before. He couldn’t recognize anyone here, nor did anyone recognize him. His only companion here was Peely who got sucked through time with him. Almost immediately upon arrival, the banana was snatched away by the Society, one of the large factions that ruled Helios, when their leader, Valeria, realized Jones could have helpful information related to some box she was looking for.

Since then, Jones has been absolutely *done*. Hope, the leader of the local renegade group known as the “Underground” had been nice enough to let him stay in the abandoned subway she used as a Headquarters, but her kindness and good nature did little to soothe his frazzled nerves, and, like most things, came at a price. Help her defeat the Society while she lent him resources to find Peely. Tit for tat, or so they say, and he was more than willing to return the favor, but Jones was *tired*. He was sick of saving everyone, time and time again just for it to go straight back to shit. He wanted a break, wanted just to have the chance to *actually* enjoy the small moments of peace his actions brought to the island and its inhabitants. A bitter part of him guessed that an eternity of fighting was his punishment for the sins of his past, and he didn’t even bother to stuff that nasty thought away, he just let himself wallow and fester in it. 

Standing in front of his corkboard, which Hope so lovingly dubbed his “conspiracy board”, he glares up at the pictures of the Society Leader’s faces, each pinned up near the rough blueprints of their appropriate bases. The group had caught on to his investigation and started moving the banana between their bases. Letting out a frustrated groan, Jones shoves his fingers under his sunglasses to rub his tired eyes. Deciding to turn in for the night, he shrugs out of his coat and starts making his way toward the pale blue couch he had claimed as his own. Tugging his sweater over his head, he crawls onto the cushion, uses his scarf to cover his eyes, and tries to force himself to relax. Under the mocking glares from the Society members, he turns his back to the board and tries to force himself into a fitful sleep. 

Meanwhile, the Foundation was surprised by how different the Island had become in his absence. New settlements had formed, the land itself had changed, and the home of the Zero Point had a new name; Helios. The leader of the 7 walked slowly down a beaten-up road, the night sky stretching above him. A small building to his right held the smallest trace of a heat signature, an indication that someone had been here recently. Pressing a button on the side of his helmet, he scanned the building, and it seemed to have a passage to the sewers below the streets. Making a mental note to check the schematics of the Island later, he almost leaves the run-down little building behind before *something* stops him. Like a little voice in his ear, something pushed him to investigate further. 

Slowly pushing the door open, he barely acknowledges the loud creak it makes. Let it serve as a warning, he thinks before stepping to look down into the steep drop. A heavy cable hangs from a support beam above him, nearly reaching the floor below. Curling a gloved hand around the cable, the large man lets gravity pull him towards the ground, that annoying little voice in the back of his head urging him to “go go go”. Something was down here, and he wouldn’t stop until he found it. 

A faint signal, like a fluttering pulse, was slowly growing visible to the sensitive scanners in his visor. Taking steady steps, the usually collected man could feel his heart rate accelerate in anticipation. This energy was familiar to him, he’d recognize it anywhere. He’d followed it countless times before, and in this new place filled with unfamiliar faces and voices, he’d be the first to admit that he was excited to see a friendly face. After all of these years, Jones’ bright face was exactly what he needed to feel *normal* again. 

Finally, the signature narrows in, becoming stronger and brighter the further down he descends down a large flight of stairs. Soon, the Foundation entered a large, dilapidated subway station where rubble blocked off most of the entrances and covered large portions of the floor. The ceiling is covered in a plethora of colors, the stained glass painting a rainbow beneath it as dim lights twinkle above it. The room was a cluttered mess: weapons, targets, and old pizza boxes are scattered on tables and the floor, and a heavy rug beneath one of the tables. A large board, covered in pictures and maps stands to his left, reminding him of the early days of manning the 7, when their organization was little more than a small renegade group in his basement. He can’t help but smile at the memory. In the back of the room, almost directly across from the stairs he used to enter the room, there was a pale blue couch with a dark blanket tossed over the back of it. Its back faced him, and he quietly wondered how long the person on the other side had been there. 

The energy signal was all over the room, mixing and mingling with several others, each pacing around the room, back and forth between each object, and he followed it almost eagerly. Rolling his eyes at the frequent circles that were made in front of the board, the energy belonging to Jones didn’t surprise him in the slightest, he watched as eventually, the energy stopped by the couch. Taking strides, he hates the eager warmth in his chest at the thought of seeing Jones again. Worried that the man might be sleeping, the large man carefully leaned over the back of the couch and finally released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

Laying curled on the cushions was Jones, the exact person he had been looking for, he realized. The man looked awful: his eyes were heavy with dark bags, his sunshine hair was oily and messy, pressed up at awkward angles from the way his head was shoved under the scarf that was slowly tangling with his neck and arms. His face was covered in dark stubble, another clear sign that he wasn’t taking care of himself. Taking a moment to simply enjoy looking at the man, he felt an angry ball form in the pit of his stomach. 

In their time together, he had seen more than his fair share of the former agent in various stages of undress, so seeing Jones topless was nothing *new* to him. He had almost every inch of this man’s torso memorized (he would never admit to this) and today, Jones looked like a whole new man. Numerous scars, some fairly new, littered the man’s pale skin, making a map  of pain and torment the hero should never have gone through. Tightly gripping the back of the couch, his focus on the visible burns on his skin, nasty and dark, in the shape of someone’s hands, some of the prints are curled around Jones’ neck, others pressed against his chest and side. They looked like brands, and he had to stop himself from jerking the sleeping man up and demanding to know who or what had dared to lay their hands on him. 

The Foundation was immediately ripped back into reality by the click of a pistol and the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of his helmet. 

“You have 3 fucking seconds to convince me not to blow your brains out.” A woman’s voice, harsh and angry, comes from behind him. 

Ignoring her, he lifts the blanket off of the back of the couch, draping it over Jones’ sleeping form.

“Don’t fucking touch him.” She hisses pushing the pistol forward again to make her threat known. 

“Trust me, that little thing won’t even make a dent in my armor.” He growls, standing up to turn towards the woman. She was short, but compared to him, who wasn’t? Her blue hair was pinned up to the back of her head, her eyes a dark blue, glaring up at him from over her dark sunglasses. 

“Try me. I think you’ll find that in my hands, this gun is more than enough.” She warns, not even flinching at the much larger, armored man looming over her, “Now get the fuck away from him. He has too much on his plate to deal with some freaky peeping tom bothering him.”

If his visor had been down, she would have seen both of his brows raise high at the way she addressed him, “Lower your gun, girl. I’m no threat to Agent Jones. I’m an old friend.” he huffs out, almost embarrassed at being called out for watching the sleeping man. 

“Agent Jones?” The blue-haired woman only raises her gun higher, an angry scowl on her painted lips, “The only friend of his that addresses him like that around here is Peely. Did the Society send you? If so, you’re not making it out of here alive.” with little hesitation she pulls the trigger. 

Right as she shoots, his arm shoots out, pushing the gun upward and yanking the petite woman into a chokehold. Rainbow glass rained down around them as the sound of the gun firing echoed around the subway station. The sound is obviously loud enough to startle Jones wake. Ever the dutiful agent, he has a gun in his hands aimed at the two of them before he even emerges from the other side of the couch. The Foundation keeps his grip on the woman as she claws his armor, making the blonde panic. 

“Woah woah! Hey put her down!” Leaping over the back of the couch, Jones drops his gun, raising his hands palm up and stepping into the armored man’s line of sight. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Hope is a friend.” 

“Your *friend* tried to shoot me.” The Foundation grumbles but complies, dropping the woman, Hope, onto the floor. 

Jones tries to ignore the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at the other man’s deep, rumbling voice. How long had it been since he’d heard someone this familiar and comforting, even if said person was angry and trying to choke one of his closest friends? 

“Well, to the average person you’re pretty intimidating, Big Guy.” The nickname rolls off of his tongue easily, and for a moment it feels like the years rolled away as he tries to soothe the other man. 

Kneeling to help Hope up, he rubs the back of his head. “Sorry about that. Hope, this is the Foundation, he’s a friend from back home. Foundation, this is Hope, she’s leading the good fight here on Helios.” 

Glaring up at him, Hope rubs her neck, not liking this mysterious “friend” one bit, but Jones hasn’t let her down yet, so she bites her tongue and offers her hand in greeting. “I guess it’s good to meet you. Jones has been a big help, so any friend of his is a friend of the Underground.”

Grunting softly under his breath, the Foundation begrudgingly takes her hand giving it a firm shake, “Likewise. You have a good ally here. I hope you’re taking good care of him.” the warning is subtle, but he can tell by the look in her eyes that she understood it loud and clear; if anything happened to Jones she would be the first to face the consequences. 

Taking a small breath, Jones was glad to see the two get along, his eyes unable to look away from the Foundation. God, he looked good. Well, as good as a guy in armor could look. Suddenly aware of his own rugged appearance, he moves over to the couch, tugging his sweater up and pulling it on over his head. He didn’t know how long the other man was staying and he wanted to make sure he could get a few moments just to enjoy his old friend’s company. A gloved hand catches his shoulder, causing him to flinch at the sudden contact, but the hand remains steady, holding him in place. In a way, he expected to freak him out, but the comfort was undeniable. 

“Jones. What happened while I was away?” The Foundation *knew* Jones, and knew when the man wasn’t acting right, “What happened to you?”

Hope, in that moment, felt like she was intruding on a truly intimate moment. Jones let his head hang down while the larger man slowly circles his fingers around his wrist. Slowly, the blonde reaches up and before he can do anything, he’s pulled into a tight hug. He didn’t even care that his face was smushed against the hard plating of the bigger man’s armor, his hands immediately finding purchase on the back of his old friend’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking tired…” the former agent hated how much his voice shook, how each word wanted to tumble out with a thousand more. How long had it been since he was the weak one? 

“I know Jones. I’m so sorry for leaving like that. I should have come back sooner.” Letting his visor lift off of his face, he gives into temptation, burying his face into the blonde’s dirty hair. 

The shorter man tried to fight the quivering of his shoulders, but what could he really hide from the man holding him? A large hand rubbed small circles into his back, pulling a tired sigh from his lips as he slowly relaxed in the comforting embrace. The Foundation holds him like he’s scared he’ll disappear, and Jones thinks that maybe he has been for a long time, but in this moment he felt more real than he had in years. 

“You need rest, Jones. Lay back down. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

Jones is too tired to argue, the comfort of the familiar scent and voice of someone who *remembered* lulled him into a cozy warmth he thought he lost ages ago.

 “You promise?” Too tired to be embarrassed by how pathetic he sounds, the blonde lets The Foundation guide him back to the couch. 

“Of course, Jones. Even Geno himself couldn’t make me leave this time.” Tugging his cape off of his shoulder, he slowly bunches and rolls it up into a makeshift pillow, letting Jones rest his head on it while the large man drapes the blanket up over him. 

He stays leaning over the back of the couch for a long while, watching and petting the blonde man’s hair until his blue eyes slowly drift shut. Hope watches in silence for a long while, not wanting to interrupt this soft moment that her friend never gets to have. Once she’s sure Jones is asleep, the Underground leader clears her throat to get the big man’s attention. 

“I’m…look I’m sorry. I just know a lot of people want to hurt him. I didn’t want to take any chances on the Society getting their hands on him again.” Rubbing the back of her neck she sighs, “Hell, when I first met him I had to rescue him from one of their torture rooms..” she jumps as the Foundation nearly crushes the back of the couch. 

“I’m here now. And you were just trying to protect him. So, thank you, Hope. He’s more important than you know.” and the people who dared to hurt him would know his wrath. 

[dyingcornerpixel]

F/O & self insert list & tags. // bold = current main(s). — italics = uncomfortable/selective abt sharing. — anniversaries now included! :]

romantics.

#🦈🔥 — sharky boshaw. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🌿🕊 — faith seed. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🩹🫀 — deputy staci pratt. // far cry 5. // 09 . 01 . 24

#🐅🏝 — vaas montenegro. // far cry 3. // 23 . 03 . 24

#🦂🌹 — valeria garza. // call of duty: modern warfare ii. // ?? . 12 . 2023 #👑🖤 — könig. // call of duty. // 19 . 09 . 2024

#💜🎲 — eduardo "lalo" salamanca. // better call saul. // 20 . 04 . 2024 #🏜🪓 — marco & leonel salamanca. // breaking bad.

#🐑⛪️ — aziraphale. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024 #🐍🍒 — crowley. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024

#🥩🍷 — hannibal lecter. // nbc hannibal. // 21 . 06 . 2024

#🦴🗡 — dagur the deranged. // how to train your dragon. // 17 . 09 . 2024

#🧢🍸 — danielle stopframe. // moral orel. // ?? . 12 . 2023

queerplatonics.

#💙✒️ — john seed. // far cry 5. // 21 . 06 . 24

#🕰🐕 — will graham. // nbc hannibal. // 30 . 06 . 24

#🖥🧬 — allied mastercomputer. // i have no mouth and i must scream. // 17 . 05 . 2024

platonics.

#🐗💥 — hurk drubman jr. // far cry 5. #🏹🕷 — jess black. // far cry 5

#📌💸 — ignacio "nacho" varga. // better call saul.

#🍇☔️ — kieran. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

familials.

#🍎🛖 — ethan seed. // far cry new dawn. // son.

#⚜️♦️ — diego castillo. // far cry 6. // son.

#🏠🩺 — gregory house. // house m.d. // father figure. #🩻❤️‍🩹 — james wilson. // house m.d. // father figure by proxy.

crushes/potential f/os.

#×× — leshy. // cult of the lamb.

#×× — dark enchantress cookie. // cookie run kingdom. #×× — tarte tatin cookie. // cookie run kingdom.

#×× — alvie. // house m.d.

#×× — alexander lemtov. // eurovision song contest: the story of fire saga. // no, i do NOT support eurovision.

#×× — wyll. // baldur's gate 3. #×× — shadowheart. // baldur's gate 3.

#×× — ruffnut. // how to train your dragon.

self inserts.

#🏡🧸 — benjamin house. // house m.d.

#🌼🪖 — canary. // call of duty.

#🐏🧶 — deputy cain "rook" bishop. // far cry 5.

#💽⚡️ — harold pylon. // better call saul & breaking bad.

#🌾🍵 — hickory. // baldur's gate 3.

#🛼🪼 — poprocks. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

#🦑📜 — rayner bell. // how to train your dragon.

#🪶🍊 — wolfram wren. // nbc hannibal.

[leovaleo]

Lamb

Acrylic

20х20

Artist Valeria Arkhipova

https://www.instagram.com/valerymysoulesea?igsh=M3RuM2p4M3Bqems5

[istanbul-was-constantinopolis]

@lamb-lion

Valeria was too old to simply go where one asked her to go, especially being aware who she was meeting, even if it perhaps wasn’t quite as mutual. Society of Leopold matched her in age, it was not new to her.

A few small sparrows scout the large clearing by the small truck stop, and continue to observe the area should anything unwanted approach her. Chirping unalarmingly in the tree branches.  

Finally she makes herself visible in the yet empty surroundings, taking on the guise of a woman in her late forties, in plain insignificant, forgettable, clothes. The blade appears as if out of nowhere, an old relic from the 14th century, but well taken care of. 

By the time the Gladus Dei sees her she will be practicing. Not the swings per say, but how to tone down her inhumane strength in her movements. It looks almost clumsy. 

[bloodtwin]

──────────────────────────────

The following story & dialogue choices will cause Puck to lose approval.

APPROVAL. GREETINGS. RECRUITMENT. DIALOGUE.

──────────────────────────────

GENERAL

- Choosing neutrality. -5 - Cruelty in the name of power or self-interest or that does not end in death. -3 - Betraying companions or allies. -3 - Treating others as lesser than yourself. -3 - Displaying cowardice. -1 - Deception dialogue options. -1 - Certain acts of premeditated violence. -1 - Taking certain things seriously when you could have been silly with it. -1 - Using Illithid powers. (If not convinced to use them.) -1

──────────────────────────────

PUCK-SPECIFIC CHOICES

ACT ONE

- Call him disgusting during his first romance scene. -3 (+1, if followed up with a comment about "being into that.") - The morning after his romance scene, he will express concern & scold you if you let him hold the knife to your throat during sex. -5 - Don't take him seriously when he talks about his Urges. -5 - Call bone-collecting weird. -1 - Lie about what happened when defending him after he killed Alfira. -10 - Tell him you refuse to kill him if he becomes too far gone. -10

──────────────────────────────

ACT TWO

- Don't recruit Iago. -1 - Trust him not to kill Isobel with low-neutral approval. -15 (+5, if medium or higher approval.) - Let Marcus kidnap Isobel. -50 (Must be persuaded to stay in party.) - Tell him you are not afraid of him then fail to conceal your scent. -5 - If romanced, tell him you are no longer interested in him. -1 (+3, if followed with the explanation that you are afraid of him or an extra -1 if followed with the explanation that you find him too dishonest or unpredictable.) - Flirt with Iago. -100 - Refuse to let him kill Kressa Bonedaughter or kill her yourself. -10 - Let him kill Iago if he attacks them when losing control. -50

──────────────────────────────

ACT THREE

- If Iago confided in you, admit that you knew the truth about his past. -5 - Alternatively, if Iago confided in you, fail to deceive him about knowing the truth. -50 - Fail to convince him to understand why you did not tell him the truth. -15 (+5, if succeeded) - Let him kill Iago after he learns the truth. -100 (He leaves the party.) - Kiss Iago while he is in your active party. -1 (You lose approval for every kiss.) - If romanced, ask to kiss him in public. -1 (He only disapproves the first time.) - Reveal personal information about him during Zethino's love test. -3 (-1 for each) - Tell him you don't want to go in to the Open Hand Temple. -1 - Mention that Father Lorgan would still be alive if he were more picky about those he helped. -5 - Refuse to warn those that are on the list of murder targets. -2 - Fail to convince him to spare Valeria. -5 (+1, if succeeded) - Let Orin kill the kidnapped companion. -10 (-100, if it is Iago. Will also leave party if it is Iago, & you cannot choose whether he rejects or embraces Bhaal anymore.) - If Puck embraces Bhaal & you side against him, tell him you will kill Iago next for good measure. -100 (He gains Protector of the Lamb. Inflicts Bleeding with every hit & deals an extra 1d8 Slashing damage.)

──────────────────────────────

[chasingrainbcws]

A sharp jolt runs up her spine as he closes a clawed hand around her wrist, hard and unforgiving. She stumbles on her hooves as she's spun to face the screen, feeling his other arm snake around her and pushing her to it. The threat that falls from his lips... it turns her stomach, an icy pit of fear churning as a knot forms in her throat. She sucks in a sharp, shallow breath --- her eyes feel hot. He... really has no mercy whatsoever, does he ? She was an idiot --- at the very least, she'd been an idiot... to think that it could have been any other way. The Overlords... they were all the same, and as hard as she worked, as much as she tried, she could never reach a level of strength or power that could make her anything to any of them but a lamb for the slaughter...

... A soft, shaky sigh is exhaled from her lips, a sob choked back as her chin falls with her hand as it's released. She can feel every last ounce of her hope crumbling like the weathered marble of an old statue in a lonely graveyard ------ as if her skin itself were spilling from her bones. A deep sadness seeps from every pore as she gives in, quietly moving her finger across the screen, signing her afterlife away.

---------------------------- Valeria Carta.

"To think you might have a chance on changing the terms? Endearing aren't we? What's stopping me from just taking you to Don Caro right now then? Let's leave you a choice, either you work for me and give me your soul like a good little sheep to follow the shepard. Or I toss you to the wolves and see what happens from there?" He added as he took her hand and pulled her in, turning her around to face the screen in front of her while he got his arm around her. Taking her hand to the screen and letting go of it so she could sign away. "The choice, is yours, me, or Don Caro. We both know who would be the worst to oppose, don't we?"