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vcnillazelda · 2 years ago

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Hey, how a about Gaz x f!reader where reader is a rival of 141 and ends up kidnapping them. Reader joined the army a couple of months before Gaz so they know her well enough, so when she sees Gaz for the first time she’s like “who is this pretty thing” and flirts with him and stuff she even takes his hat before she leaves (she fr wears it everywhere) and he doesn’t get it back until she gets taken in for questioning or something. Tysm, have a good day :))

pretty boy

kyle “gaz” garrick x fem! reader

summary: the team slips up and ends up in a less than favourable situation, yet gaz gets quite the experience.

tags: kidnapping, enemies to lovers, dubcon affection, flirty! reader, gaz flirts back ngl, valeria is here too <3, mild spoilers, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff, smoking, sharing cigarettes, paranoia, survivors guilt, not canon compliant

a/n: i low-key went above and beyond for this ngl- i just love him so much look at his pretty face 😭

✞———————❖———————✞

gaz wakes up, blinking a few times. he’s confused, his head is pounding, and most importantly he doesn’t recognise his surroundings. “what the…?” he whispers, memories slowly trickling back in to him. the team, something went wrong- their intel was wrong about el sin nombre. the enemy had the upper hand. “you’re awake.” a voice chimes. it’s awfully familiar, yet he can’t pin it. the door opens fully, and a woman steps in. valeria garza… el sin nombre. how did he end up with the boss out of everyone in the cartel. “fuck you.” gaz snarls, yet the woman just laughs. “feisty. i like that, it’s more satisfying to snuff them.” she mumbles, pistol vaguely brushing under his chin, tilting his head back. “here’s how this is going to go. you’ll tell me all the information you can offer about your little… operation- and in return, i’ll let you live.” she purrs, gaz tilts his head away. “over my dead body.” he grumbles, adrenaline spiking as her safety clicks off. “don’t test me.” valeria’s voice goes stern and icy.

“boss. alejandro wants to talk to you.” another voice says from the door, and she pulls away. “is that so? he finally come to his senses?” she asks, and you step in. “it appears so. i can take care of this one for you.” you state, and valeria chuckles. “i’d expect nothing less from you, novata.” valeria leans in, whispering something to you before leaving the room. you wait until the door is shut before turning to him, a soft smile on your lips. (rookie)

“aren’t you pretty.” you smile, slinking around his chair so he couldn’t see you. “who are you?” he demands, trying not to tense up as your fingers slide over his shoulders teasingly. “that’s not important… i wanna know about you.” your hand moves, index finger gently tapping his cheek. gaz tilts his head away. “you’re not getting anything from me.” he mutters, his wrists aching due to the binds around them. “that’s a shame. i was gonna do something nice, a quid pro quo….” you trail off, snatching his hat and placing it onto your own head as you move around him, taking a seat upon his lap. gaz sucks in a soft breath, averting your gaze, yet your slender fingers grasp his jaw, bringing him back. “look at me, pretty boy… tell me, how long have you been under the task force?” you ask, index and middle fingers gently stroking his skin. gaz feels weak.

“a few months, at least.” he mutters, cracking under your suffocating pressure. “is that so..?” you ask, voice a soft mumble as you take in his features. “yeah.” he responds, deciding on soaking in your visage as well, he wanted to remember so he could take you down- yet you’re so pretty, he can’t help but want you on his side. “why are you with el sin nombre?” he blurts out, and you chuckle. “my, you’re straightforward aren’t you?” you ask back, and he hums. “a little… i just wanna know the pretty girl on my lap a bit better.” he smiles, trying to use your own tactics against you whilst also genuinely trying to flirt with you. “i might tell you, if you tell me your name.” you reply, getting up. “gaz. my names gaz.”

you laugh again, and this time he feels a little confused. “what?” he asks, and you stifle your giggles. “do you think i was born yesterday? your real name, cutie.” you smile, hand resting upon the table before him. “kyle. what’s your name?” he knows it’s stupid to ask, and you simply smile sweetly, moving on. “my boss, el sin nombre- isn’t she cool? she wants some intel. normally i’d get it myself but you and your friends fell right into my honeytrap. it would be a shame to waste this time with just flirting.” you mumble, and kyle hums. “what if i want to flirt with you?” he asks, and you giggle. “you wouldn’t be the first.” you wink. “shame. i’d like having you on my side.” gaz gives a smile, and you hum. “is that so?” you ask, voice soft. “i don’t think we’d be that good of a match. i’m in a cartel.” he jumps at the opportunity. “we’d protect you. you don’t have to be here.” you laugh at his words. “baby, no one gets rid of el sin nombre. this little thing is just empty flirting.” you dismiss his attempts at a negotiation. he doesn’t know why, but gaz feels slightly hurt that you turned him down.

“i see.” he mumbles, and you give him a dramatic pout. “don’t be too sad, we can still talk.” you state, it’s meant to be patronising, yet gaz takes it straight to his heart. “i’d hope so. it would be a shame to lose a pretty face so soon.” you smile at his words. “you’re adorable. it’s such a shame i can’t keep you for myself.” you mutter, grasping his face with gentle palms. gaz smiles at you, and you pull away, looking at the door. “what’s wrong?” he asks, and you look back at him. “hm… gouging options…” you mumble, thumbs softly stroking his cheekbones. “and what would those options be?” he mutters. you smile again and gaz feels like he’s winning the olympics.

“come with me. i want to show you something…” you mumble, unsheathing your blade and cutting him free. “a risky move.” he mumbles, and you hum. “you wouldn’t hurt a pretty thing like me, i can see it in your eyes.” you pat his chest as he gets up. “how would you know?” he asks, and you giggle, grabbing his hand. “i just do.” you tug him along, opening the door. “be quiet. i wouldn’t want to hurt you.” you whisper, leading him through the hallways. gaz feels lost, simply following you blindly, for all he knew he could be walking to his death- yet he was doing it with a very pretty girl by his side.

as soon as the two of you step outside, the cold night air nips his face and he wishes he had his hat back to protect his ears from the freezing temperature- yet he doesn’t want to be rude, even if you kidnapped him and supposedly his friends… he would have to ask if you had his colleagues. “look.” you mumble, nudging his side as you sit upon a broken wall overlooking the road leading up to the base. “what am i looking at?” he asks, leaning upon the wall. you grasp his chin, tilting his head up from the road so he could see the view. “this is one of el sin nombre’s hideouts. it’s beautiful out here.” you mumble, showing gaz the quarry the hideout was hidden by. “it is beautiful.” he agrees, furrowing his brows. “why are you showing me this?”

“i’m tapped into your friends’ comms. they’re scanning through this area soon. i want you to have a look at where you’re going.” you point to the quarry, the gushing water distant. “i’m the only one here?” he asks, and you nod. “i promise, you’re the only one.” you tell him. “why are you helping me?” gaz asks, and you smile, it’s more sad now. “you’re too pretty for this place, kyle. go do what i couldn’t do.” you gesture to the open area around you. “what couldn’t you do?” you chuckle at his question. “i was in training at the task force you’re in, 141… i was in the same situation as you. i…” you trail off, taking a soft breath. “i’m kind of stuck here- but it’s okay. valeria’s nice enough to me.” you mumble, looking at some fireflies in the distance. gaz absorbs the information, blinking. “that’s why you’re helping me…” he mutters, and you nod. “come with me.” he states, drawing your gaze to his face.

“i can’t.” you deadpan, and he grasps your arm gently. “you can! we’re here, together. you said it yourself, my team is coming here soon-“ you cut gaz off by resting your palm against his chest. “gaz, listen. i cant. el sin nombre will kill me the second she finds out i did this for you. there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll figure it out, she’s smart like that…” you tell him, and gaz sighs. “so come with me, we can leave now.” he can’t believe he’s begging you, an enemy, to come with him- how would he explain that? “kyle…” you mumble, sighing softly as you got down from the wall. “i’d love to, really… but i cant.” you tell him. “please go.” you request, and gaz grasps your arms before you can leave. “not until i convince you to come with me. you don’t have to be here, you don’t have to be scared- i can help you.” he tells you, and you see the desperation to help you in his eyes. “no one can help me.” you tell him, leaning in.

your lips ghost over his, and he kisses you with the gentleness of someone holding a thin shard of glass. it’s short and fleeting yet so sweet. you seize the opportunity, pushing him with all your might so he tumbled over the wall. gaz yells at the suddenness, sliding and rolling down the hill, hitting his hip on a rock. he stumbles to his feet at the bottom, looking up. you give him a sad smile before dipping back into the warehouse. gaz let’s out a soft sigh, turning and running to the quarry where he would wait to be rescued.

weeks pass by, and gaz finally convinced alejandro to raid the warehouse, desperate to find you… hes kissed you once, but he didn’t even get your name. gaz feels like kicking himself, pacing as price rolls his eyes. “you’ll mark the carpet at this rate, son.” he states, and gaz lets out a soft hum; not responding any more than that. “sit down. relax. the boys will find your mystery girl.” the older man pats the chair beside him, and gaz sighs. “i can’t believe i didnt get her name…” he grumbles, and price chuckles. “heat of the moment, son. plenty of men do it.” he teases, backing off with fake surrender as gaz gives him a glare. “okay, okay. just sit down, you’re making me anxious.” price tells him, and he sighs. “fine…”

hours tick by, but eventually rudy pops his head into the break room. “gaz? there’s a girl in questioning. she wants to speak to you.” he states, and gaz immediately hops up, running to the rooms. he sees you through the two way mirror and immediately opens the door. alejandro looks over, giving him a nod. “i’ll take over, alejandro. thanks.” he mutters, taking the handcuff’s key from the older man and watching the other leave before closing the door. his gaze meets yours, and you give a small smile. “what happened?” he asks, immediately unlocking the cuffs around your wrists. “oh, sweet boy… no one can cross el sin nombre and go unpunished.” you smile, it’s sad and weak. “have you received medical aid?” he asks, cupping your face the way you did weeks ago. “no, not yet. your boss doesn’t trust me.” you reply, and gaz furrows his brows. “alejandro?” he asks, and you nod. “seems right…” he mutters, turning to leave. “hey..?” you grasp his wrist and he turns back. “im going to get you some medical aid.” he explains, and you chuckle softly. “it’s not that bad, trust me.” you assure him, pulling him back slowly. “alright…”

you watch him sit on the seat across from you. “you still have my hat?” he asks, and you smile, nodding a little. “yeah. haven’t taken it off since i met you.” you tell him. you seem less flirty in this environment, probably because of the environment- you most likely didn’t feel safe and gaz understood that. “what did they ask you?” he asks, and you shrug. “about el sin nombre’s plans. i told them all that i know, and i don’t know much.” you reply, and gaz nods. “are you joining us again?” gaz watches you laugh softly. “i doubt it, cutie.” you smile, it’s less pained. “why not?” he furrows his brows. “i worked with valeria garza. there’s no way your friends would trust me now.” you tell him, “i’m the one that arranged your kidnapping, too.” you add on, and gaz nods a little. “you’re also the one who let me go unharmed.”

“yeah..” you mumble, and gaz takes your hand in his. “stay with me. i’ll keep you safe.” he whispers. you give his hand a tight squeeze, as if it’s the affection you’ve been craving your whole life. “i wish i could… el sin nombre is probably arranging my assassination right now as we speak- she probably thinks i’m giving a lot more information than i have.” you sigh, thumb running over his knuckles as you stare at the table, lost. “why’d you put your life at risk just for me?” he asks, it’s a question that’s been nagging him since he got rescued. “you’re cute, not to mention smart and obviously skilled to get into 141. you’d be an awful waste of you died so early into your career. besides, i told you why on the wall.” you shrug, smiling rather innocently. “you like me..?” he asks, and you chuckle. “that’s what you gathered from that entire sentence?” you smile. “maybe.” he smiles back.

the conversation carries on. you’re much more comfortable, your flirty nature coming back as you grow to trust gaz with your safety. gaz’s cheeks hurt from smiling at you so much. it feels like an odd first date… yet you probably don’t see it that way. “i’ll ask price to let you back in… your file must be here somewhere, especially if you were marked as m.i.a.” gaz declares, you downcast your gaze. “you don’t have to.” you mutter, and gaz sighs. “i want to. think of it as me repaying you for saving me.” he responds, and you hum. “okay… but i don’t think it’s gonna work…” you reply. gaz nods, getting up, taking his hat back with a soft smile. “i’ll see what i can do for you.” he goes to walk away, yet you tug him back for the second time. standing, you pull him in and kiss his cheek. “thank you, kyle.” you mutter, sitting back down. “for what?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “for believing in me. it takes guts to accept an enemy.” you smile, and gaz sighs. “you’re no enemy. just a victim of circumstance.” he mutters, letting your palm slip from his as he leaves.

price looks skeptical. alejandro looks disgusted. rudy looks a little concerned. everyone looks extremely against him. “just trust me! she’s not as bad as them! she was one of us!” he argues despite no one saying anything. alejandro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “and if she’s playing you? what if she spills all our intel to el sin nombre and betrays us?” the man argues back, and gaz steels his gaze. “you saw the condition she’s in. el sin nombre is no ally of hers anymore. she’s in the same boat as us now, whether you like it or not!” he steps forward, his index finger poking alejandro’s chest as if to challenge him. “you better watch your tone with me, pendejo-“ he snaps, tone low and dangerous until price steps in. “y/n was a good soldier. i trust her… we just need to give her time to see if she’s still the same soldier we knew.”

alejandro looks from gaz to price, then back at gaz. “you’re agreeing with him?” he asks, still unsure as he looks to price again. “i am. y/n’s not as dangerous as you think.” he pats the other man’s shoulder. “trust me on this, alejandro.” he mutters, and gaz tries not to hold his breath. “fine. but, any suspicious activity and i’m putting her under the ground.” he grumbles, storming out. rudy looks at gaz once more before following alejandro. “does this mean y/n’s back on the team?” johnny asks, and price nods. “i guess so.”

gaz finds you outside, smoking a cigarette. rudy’s in the window beside you, keeping an eye on you as he smokes too. “i didn’t know you smoked.” gaz states openly, rudy nods a little as you hum. “he’s the one who gave it to me.” you mutter, gesturing to rudy who takes a silent drag. “i’m supposed to have quit… now seems like a good time to have a cig though… want some?” you ask, offering gaz your cigarette. he hums, accepting it as rudy snuffs his cigarette bud, flicking it into the drain. “i’ll leave you two be.” he mumbles, leaving the window open as he walks off- probably to find alejandro. “so… you’re back on the team.” gaz tells you, handing your cigarette back. “is that so?” you ask, not sounding too interested. “you don’t sound thrilled. what’s up?” he asks, and you sigh. “i wont last long… i feel it. she’s out there.” you mumble. “she won’t get you. i’m here with you.” gaz assures you. his fingers gently nudge your palm, and you glance down, looking up at him. he gives you a soft smile, and you slowly tangle your fingers into his.

your training started up again, price was warm and kind, being quite gentle with you. you’re progressing well, already back up to scratch with the team. alejandro doesn’t entirely trust you, yet rudy does as the two of you smoke together, chatting idly about home. you’re on a mission, using yourself as bait to catch valeria, and gaz is with you the whole time, assuring you that you’re okay every 10 minutes. valeria is now cuffed hours later, and alejandro is leading her to the appropriate forces. she’s shouting about how she won’t be locked up for long, and will be let out in about 24 hours. her gaze meets yours over rudy’s shoulder and your breath hitches. “and you- ¡traidora! you’ll get what’s coming to you!” she threatens. you tense up, swallowing thickly as you boldly grab gaz’s hand. valeria gets into the calm with quite a fuss, and alejandro closes the door with a sigh. “glad that’s over with.” he mutters, walking back to the squad. (traitor!)

gaz tugs your hand softly, leading you away from the scene as everyone starts wrapping up. “don’t worry about her, love. she wont get you for as long as i live.” he mutters, leading you to the car. you don’t respond, squeezing his hand tightly for comfort as the two of you get into the backseat. “relax. she’s gonna be in custody. i hope she’ll be away forever, but knowing how corrupt the system is she’ll probably be out sooner than that…” he mumbles, glancing at you. “sorry- i didn’t mean it like that…” he adds on, pulling you into a hug. you hug back, sighing. “i’m not as scared anymore- but i’m still paranoid.” you mumble, and gaz nods. “anyone would be.” he reassures you, rubbing your back as he rests his head against yours. “hey, how about we take a night off tonight? just us?” gaz suggests and you pull away a little. “okay…”

you’re half asleep against gaz, what was supposed to be a movie night between the two of you in his room was now a movie in the background as he coddles you to his chest. you’ve had a stressful day, so he understands wanting to just wind down and relax. one thing has been bothering gaz throughout the night… the two of you were incredibly close, too close to be friends- you both kissed often. he remembers after your first mission back with the task force the two of you drank before making out until your lips were sore and swollen. the two of you even shared a bed, and were always at each other’s side, yet neither of you used a label. gaz would like a label… he’d like you to be his. gently, he shakes you, causing you to stir again. “wha..? what’s wrong?” you ask, hands pressing to his chest. “sorry… i just…. i’ve been thinking.”

“oh god-“ you joke, cuddling back into him. “what are we, y/n? are we like… a thing?” gaz asks, and you hum. “i dunno… i haven’t really thought about it.” you reply, gaz feels rejection building. “would… you like to be a thing?” he asks cautiously. you smile, kissing his neck softly. “if you’d have me, gaz.” you mumble. gaz beams, pulling away a little to kiss your lips as if he were a man starved. “i’d love to have you as mine.” he mutters, voice soft. “then i’m yours.” you reply, hand gently stroking his cheek as he kisses you again. “get some rest, love. you need it.” he tells you, kissing your forehead. you hum, cuddling close to his chest again as gaz closes his eyes. he never thought he’d say it, but he’s glad he got kidnapped.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #mw x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #mw2 gaz #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #// 🍨 vcnillazelda #// 🍨 call of duty

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blacksunrequiem · 7 months ago

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THE REPRESENTATION!!! I’m so glad that Eurydice’s Bene Gesserit squad includes people of color 🥹🫶😭 How many violent hearts will be enlisted on the treasonous cruiser with captain Eurydice and vice captain Feyd? We’ll have to wait and see 😝

FOUR BENE GESSERIT SISTERS WERE CHOSEN AS DISCIPLES TO THE KWISATZ MOTHER. THEY STAND IN PREPARATION TO THE ASCENSION OF THE KWISATZ HADERACH. AND BY THEIR BLOOD, THEY SHALL NOT FAIL.

EDIT OF THE DISCIPLES OF THE KWISATZ MOTHER.

Echoes in our Blood by Vulpine_Spectacle

#echoes in our blood #eiob #eiob edit #eiob aesthetic #bene gesserit #eurydice atreides #isca di moritani #jael varota #delphine navarre #valeria ames #author reblog #eiob visage #representation #people of color #dune fanfiction #fan fic stuff

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forgivemeyourhonor · 1 month ago

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Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Julian De Los Santos, the 46 year old criminal defense attorney originally from Chicago, Illinois. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're tenacious and dogmatic, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something… ― Raúl Esparza, bisexual, male, and he/they.

previous threads - visage - musings - wanted connections

current threads - mood board

Name: Julian De Los Santos

Alias: Juli, Jules, Jay

Gender/Pronouns: Male, He/They

Age: 46

Birthdate: 03/10/1944

Big Three: Pisces, Virgo, Taurus

Occupation: Criminal Defense Attorney

Height: 5’9”

Hometown: Havana, Cuba → Chicago, IL, USA

Family: mother (Rosa De Los Santos), father (Markos De Los Santos), eldest brother (Markos De Los Santos Acosta), older brother (Sergio De Los Santos), older brother (Basilio De Los Santos), younger sister (Valeria González), younger sister (Yara De Los Santos),

Friends: N/A

Relationship Status: single

Sexuality: pansexual icon

Other Relationships: N/A

At 46 years old, this criminal defense attorney navigates the legal system of Cardinal Hill, where he has sought solace ever since one fateful night that forced him to leave his city of Chicago behind.

Born in Havana, Cuba -- his early days saw too much turmoil. At the age of five, his family was forced to seek refuge from the conflicts of their native country. Business in Chicago was booming so this is where they settled. This journey -- the journey to Chicago meant they had to briefly say goodbye to their loved ones. Especially Julian. Two weeks before they migrated Sergio, Julian's older brother had become incarcerated as a result of a political demonstration gone awry. He was forced to stay in Cuba until his sentence was completed. This had such a lasting and powerful impact on his childhood that feelings of pain and misfortune remained with him and continue to do so far beyond his tender years.

Julian's parents, Rosa and Markos De Los Santos -- were a dedicated nurse and a powerful patent attorney. These hard workers instilled in him the values of perseverance and responsibilities. He excelled in academia and was driven to pursue law just like his father. But he didn't want to work tirelessly for companies or The Man, so he decided early in his academic career that he wanted to specialize in criminal law. He hoped to make a difference in the lives of those who, like his brother, found themselves ensnared in the gaping maw of the justice system.

Despite being quite successful, the echoes of his life in Chicago haunt his daily life. When he was just 31, nearly ten years into his practice, a tragic misstep would leave him reeling for decades. He made the difficult decision to relocate to Cardinal Hill. Julian hoped to escape the memories that haunted him and start fresh. The ghosts of his pasts are really never far behind and they influence his work as a criminal defense attorney -- shaping his understanding of true justice and redemption.

In the idyllic town of Cardinal Hill, Julian is known not only for his excellent legal expertise but also his compassionate approach with every client. He never shames, he only seeks to provide the solace to Cardinal Hill that it has given him. He fights passionately and tirelessly for the underrepresented. Driven by a deep-rooted belief in second chances - for others and for himself.

Julian De Los Santos continues to wade the challenges of his profession while he grapples with his family legacy, his identity and his own conscience. He stands at the crossroads of his present and his past, seeking to meet the man he was and the man he continually strives to be.

Headcannons

In Cardinal Hill, Julian becomes unlikely friends with an older library employee who was once a lawyer herself. Sharing her experience with Julian, who at some point started hating the law and called it lifeless. The old library provides another place of worship for him.

Julian struggles in his romantic life. He often pushes people away because he believes that anyone who gets too close will either suffer because of him or they will eventually leave. He's usually drawn to people who have their own past troubles and forms bonds over shared experiences.

When the pressure becomes too much or the guilt is too loud sometimes Julian will wander the streets of Cardinal Hill at night to clear his head.

Julian is Catholic and often struggles with his faith since the incident and he attends Mass regularly because of this. He struggles with feelings of unworthiness and he often confesses to a sympathetic priest.

Despite the slight turmoil it causes, Julian kept all of his late father's law books. He often revisits them and the footnotes in the margins to remind him of the man he wants to be.

Julian still writes letters to his older brother in hopes that one day he'll be able to read them -- wherever he is.

He carries around a rosary in his pocket as a comfort whenever he feels overwhelmed. He finds solace in counting the beads, allowing it to ground him in moments of guilt or anxious thoughts. It's a small act that helps him seek clarity.

One of his clients in Chicago taught him what Zine's are and he was inspired to make one and to his surprise it went really well. To this day he still makes them when he has free time -- divulging his thoughts on the law, redemption and morality. His Zine's resonate well with most people and it gives him a great sense of community.

He is the youngest of his brothers and sometimes that makes him feel inadequate or like the runt of the boys.

However, he is the only witch out of the brothers and that fills him with a sense of pride. His mother is a witch too and taught him everything he knows, which he happily passes down to his two younger sisters who he loves more than anything.

To find comfort and connection to his Cuban roots he takes a few cooking class and gets really into it, actually! He often cooks traditional meals and invites neighbors over for dinner parties.

#cardinalintro #I can’t think of a face tag right now I just want to post this #juez jurado verdugo ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

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ven0ms · 29 days ago

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* tags .

#* valeria white bear ‚ visage .#* valeria white bear ‚ inner .#* valeria white bear ‚ speaks .#* valeria white bear ‚ begins .#* valeria white bear ‚ aesthetic .#tags.

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bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 11 months ago

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Winter Solstice Writing Event and Teaser for Bloodhound

Woohoo! A teaser for Bloodhound and another piece for the Solstice!

For context, this is a 'Ghost x reader' where the reader is running away from a private military facility, called the Foundation, which makes 'Black Widow-'like soldiers out of girls they kidnap and lycanthropic bioweapons to watch over them.

Phillip Graves has unfortunately become one of those shapeshifting soldiers and is tasked with retrieving the reader and one other target. He's been put in a team with soldiers like him, along with two child-soldiers to help. He's also managed to find Valeria, an ex-employee of the Foundation, and get her to do some of the work for him.

Warnings: Strong language and violence!

Her resolve was breaking, crumbling away like sand through her fingers. She was faltering, stumbling over a root as she dragged her body to continue on. Valeria looked behind to see she had lost sight of the base. Slowly, she returned her gaze to what was in front of her: the vague path back to their camp.

She had cast that awful mask aside, leaving it to be found at the edge of the base, where the back of that dilapidated building met the woods, hoping you’d find it and that it’d light a fire under your arse.

A life taken was, in her eyes, better than a life doomed. At least, with murder, there came some form of closure. Some form of a definitive… end.

How long until it would set in? Until he’d unravel and consume them all?

Consume you?

She prayed that the anger she had seen in your face, as she had grabbed a fistful of your hair, bringing your bloodied visage to look upon hers, meant you had it in you to fix this. There was a good chance you’d reject Ghost and flee the moment you discovered his newfound nature. And… you’d be right in doing that- you know, to kill him before he’d get into their hands. Valeria hoped you’d stab him with a silver stake in his sleep or do her the kindness of making him scream. Oooh. Something inside her giggled with sadistic joy at the thought of an Arcadian Son screaming in agony at the hands of a lamia. What a triumph that would be! An arrogant man with strength he didn’t deserve nor need, squirming about at the feet of a trafficked child. Valeria hungered for that, and she had found a substitute in reigning supreme over the Las Almas Cartel but, now that she thought about it, it wasn’t the same. It was play. It was her living in a fantasy, rehearsing all the things she wanted to say and do to her overseer. There were many people that sat at the back of her mind, giving voice to her innermost doubts and fears, whom she wanted to see burn by her hands, and he was one of them. That heartless fucker who managed to worm his way into her very being, one who she’d still want to see in awe of her, to feel a swell of pride as she’d slit his throat.

Every Arcadian Son was the same. Every single one. They all did nothing but hurt, exploit, and terrorise. Throwing around their gifts without a care in the world and making sure everyone was constantly feeling their anguish, their pain.

But what about mine?! What about my pain?!

She trudged on, doing her best to halt the tears pooling in her eyes. In an ill attempt to self-soothe, Valeria found her arms slowly snaking around her, her body pulling her into an embrace. It stung as the cartel queen felt a tear trickle from her eye, rolling down her nose, clinging to the end. Then another, and another, and another once more. Valeria wanted to beat someone half to death. She wanted to feel powerful again, toying with people. She had thought that all these years she had spent on herself, spoiling herself rotten with an underground empire and plenty of men to crush beneath her boot, she had grown. And yet, here she was, a sobbing, snivelling mess, nothing more than a weak, little girl.

Little girl.

“You wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for me.”

Little girl.

“I will always be with you.”

Little girl.

“You will always be scared of men like me. You will always be scared of men.”

The way those words had been uttered to her, all those years ago, with no anger, no emotion behind them, uttered like cold, hard facts. As if she was made to be a certain way. As if she couldn’t escape her nature. As if she was destined to be a caricature, an idea of a person. It was as if everything Valeria had ever done had meant nothing, because all this she had created, had accumulated, had achieved, was merely boiled down to a response to him. Essentially, Valeria realised that she was and would always be nothing more than his lamia.

A quivering breath escaped her, and she became still. Glossy brown eyes stared into the middle distance.

She could have said no, died in defiance.

And yet, she obeyed.

How far was she from camp?

“Valeria?”

Quick as a whip, she snapped back to reality and saw Graves, directly in front of her, standing amidst the shrubbery. His posture indicated he was concerned, slightly leaning forward, one unsure foot put in front of the other, hands hovering in place, shaking with slight trepidation. To him, she didn’t look well. Something about her indicated she wasn’t entirely here and as for her slightly unkempt armour and bloodstained face, Phillip feared she wouldn’t be able to give a decent report.

Still¸ he sighed, no harm in tryin’.

“Valeria?”

“You disgrace the army.”

Every single fucking man she had ever met had, in some form or the other, left a nasty mark on her. Every. Single. Fucking. One.

As she watched Phillip approach her, with a patronising dose of caution, her lip curled.

“I want the missiles. I want the target. And I want Hassan. And you’ve got ten seconds or I’m going to show you the difference between military and me.”

Phillip Graves was feeling sorry for himself now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be back to his usual self, or perhaps even worse.

“Valeria?”

“What?!” she snapped.

“Have you delivered the package to the target and…”

She could tell he was looking her up and down.

“… Did the renegade do that to you?”

Valeria wasn’t fooled by his softened voice. She took a disgusted step back as he took one towards her.

“What do you think?” Valeria sighed, making to brush past him and collect her things at camp so she could leave this promptly.

He grabbed her, hard, by the wrists. She looked at him like he wasn’t even human, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, a face depicting someone who was taken aback by not a man, but an animal.

“I need a full report of what happened,” he spoke to her like she was a mere child.

She looked at him, trying to find his eyes behind that blank visor. Although there really wasn’t much of a height difference between them, she felt as though he was consuming her whole field of vision. Angry tears should have told him enough, but it was evident that he wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Let me go.”

“I need a report.”

“Let me go.”

“You can have your tantrum afterwards, Garza. I need a report. You do realise that this is technically a mission-”

She pulled away, trying to break free of his grip, but to no avail. Over his shoulder, she could see the tantalising shape of camp. Valeria wriggled, demanding to be released. Phillip’s grip only tightened.

Stop.

STOP!

Valeria kicked him, screamed at him and, in a moment of brief freedom, before he’d trap her in his embrace once more, she hit his armoured chest. Again, and again and again. All that came out of her were shrieks and curses that sounded as though they had been trapped in her gullet for centuries. She punched and punched his chest, fighting to break free from his grip as he reestablished control. Graves supposed he’d let her have her moment for a few seconds, however, he soon grew tired of her hysteria.

“Valeria… Valeria, will you just… Val-”

He sighed.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REPORT!” he roared.

Then, Phillip fell silent, as if surprised by his own voice. He sounded a lot worse than he did when she last spoke to him, merely hours ago.

Valeria glowered at him but did as he said, regaining composure. She was breathless, panting as her whole body rose and fell in time with her stifled gasps for air. Her hands were raised in front of her, held in place by his, almost framing her face.

“The renegade was there. They saw me. And as for the target… Riley’s received the package.”

He eyed the woman, seeing if he could smell any lies on her. However, it seemed she was telling the truth. Phillip let go of her hands and watched them drop to her sides.

“Clean yourself up and go log it on the lexicon-thingy. I received a call from them not too long after you left. They said they want to hear it from you.”

She pushed past him, wiping away the salty water on her lips with the back of her hand.

Dawn would be approaching and with it, heaps of planning for the final stage. They hadn’t been here for long, but to Phillip, he felt as though he had aged aeons. A sliver of him had just made its absence finally known, having spent the past few days teasing him with its liminal existence. Absentmindedly, he rested a hand on his chest, picking at the crevices of his armour as he stared off into the middle distance. He wasn’t the same. He’d hit rock bottom and now had to get on with things despite it all because he didn’t have anything else to do but that. Never had a man truly encapsulated the word ‘undead’. Phillip Graves in a sense had died in Las Almas, in that tank, at the hands of John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, but he hadn’t been reborn or redeemed in any way. The man was a soulless continuation of the previous iteration. Although he knew the inescapable reality of his situation, he couldn’t fathom it: particularly the fact that he was alive. This didn’t feel like being alive, though. He was simply… going through the motions. There was no agency here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he did have some agency which led him to the decision he had been procrastinating on making.

The matter of the girls.

***

“What?!” 72’s voice cracked; her indignation just barely being contained. “What do you mean we can’t go?!”

Phillip winced a little, trying to find the correct footwork needed to get around the girl and get on with his life. Much to his chagrin, though, the young lamia firmly placed herself in front of him, blocking his path with her feet squarely placed hip-width apart and her arms crossed. She had an aggravating scowl on her face as she looked up at him.

“Kid…”

“Kid?” she scoffed.

“72,” he sighed, pausing for a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “you and 23 need to stay put. For your own safety. You know, I’m doing this for your own good.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” she growled, “We’re supposed to be on a job.”

Phillip noticed the way her brows lowered, eyes narrowing, it brought about a sense of familiarity to him, like he’d seen that expression elsewhere but couldn’t quite place it.

Him.

Suddenly, he was aware that he was pulling the same face under his helmet.

“You’re going to be doing me a lot of favours by staying back here. So, stay.”

“But-”

“That’s an order, 72!”

She was taken aback by his raised voice, her lip trembling a little as her mind couldn’t make up whether she should be scared or continue to be angry. Graves rose to his full height no longer bringing himself down to meet her eyes, thinking that had done the trick.

He gently moved her out the way and walked past, feeling an odd sense of pride that he’d managed to avoid a teenage girl’s wrath successfully.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks.

“Are you scared you’re going to hurt us?” 72 taunted, “I know that you were the one responsible for 23’s injury after we extracted the drug lord.”

He couldn’t… He couldn’t even bring himself to look at whatever smug grin she was probably pulling, knowing full well that it would send him over the edge. The last thing he needed right now was an excuse to lose it, especially when she was in the line of fire.

“You…” He could hear his voice had become gravelly once more, like it had done so when he’d yelled at Valeria. “… You, young lady, are skating on some mighty thin ice.”

“I don’t even need to read your mind to know you’re full of guilt.”

“72-”

“We’re here for you! We’re your lamias! You can’t just leave us here, they’ll find out we weren’t working properly, and they’ll do something about it!” she cried, throwing her arm out and vaguely upwards.

He turned to face her.

“I’m supposed to be dead. I was supposed to be in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, not atoning for my fucking sins but here I am yet on another mission… with two children that I now have to make sure don’t get fucking killed because...”

“Because?”

“I’ve killed so many people. I’ve been a damn good contractor. But I draw the line here. I draw the line at children.”

“We’re not just children.”

“No, 72, you are and you’re in my care. I tell you what to do and you do as I say. That’s the fuckin’ deal. Got it?”

Her lips were pulled into a thin line.

“Got it?!”

She hung her head low.

“Yes, sir,” 72 said, resignedly.

He nodded to himself.

“Go into your tent and stay there until I come get you for food or whatever. If you need anything, you call me, and I’ll let you out.”

Tail between her legs, she sulkily walked back to her flimsy shelter. He watched her unzip the flap and crawl in, hearing the shrill sound of the zipper being angrily pulled along the teeth. Phillip found himself lingering a little longer, watching her silhouette greet 23’s in the warm glow of the hanging torch he’d managed to fish out of their bags for them when they first set up shop here.

Though it stung, Graves knew it had been the right thing to do. They weren’t built for the battlefield, and he’d got a glimpse of that when Valeria had been taken.

23…

His mind was still foggy on what exactly happened with her. As much as he wanted to ask, he feared it would either confirm his suspicions or leave him with only more questions. And so, Phillip had opted to wallow in his apprehension, hoping that once he’d finished this mission and hopefully be rid of them, he could either forget about his guilt or drown it in a fuck ton of alcohol like he used to.

Taken a heavy hit? Simply rock up to the nearest bar in the area and drink and drink and drink.

Having awful flashbacks to Al-Mazrah? Sip some tequila, then sip some more tequila… then keep sipping until you’ve somehow arrived at the next day with only faint recollection of how exactly you got here.

Phillip wondered if he could even get drunk anymore thanks to his newfound condition. Perhaps that’s why the rest of the Arcadian Sons seemed so… excessive, the senseless violence and enforcing of power kept them from acknowledging the tragedies that were their own existences. Maybe he should get with the programme.

No…

It felt wrong.

Then again, he’d most likely done just as bad before. Still, his previous transgressions never made him feel like this, even thinking about spilling blood made his stomach both churn and burn with hungry excitement. It would be giving into something, something that was steeped in sin.

He needed to get this job done and hope the Foundation would give him another one so he would have no time to be alone with his thoughts.

***

You took another pump of soap and rubbed it into your hands before bringing them under the tap once again. Warm water washed over you as you picked at your nails, trying to get the last bits of brown, dried blood which were stubbornly sitting in the crevices of your fingers. Eventually, you looked back up to see the red smeared across the lower half of your face, coming to almost a point, where the source was: your nose.

Damn it.

The blood was beginning to dry, becoming a nasty crust over your skin. You couldn’t help but stare at yourself- bloodied, bruising with tearstains to boot.

You thought about the lamia once more. You had been doing so for some time now, her face briefly gracing your mind’s eye with her presence. You wondered who exactly she was, not from an identity perspective but rather, you were curious about her intentions. It was just… why?! Why was she there? Why did she help you? Why help and still work for the Foundation? Why show such solidarity, tell you about the Arcadian Sons in the forest, undeniably a few kilometres away, and yet, still, presumably, enter to confirm your location?

Or was this all a ruse? No… it couldn’t be!

It wasn’t like you were going to wait around to find out, you were going to pack your shit and leave first thing in the morning. You swore to yourself that come dawn tomorrow, you were out of here.

You just hoped that the Arcadian Sons weren’t planning anything tonight.

They couldn’t be that fast, could they?

They could. They very much could.

Damn it.

You sighed, watching your reflection frown. All you really had going for you at the moment was the hope that some god above would take pity on your plight and have the Arcadian Sons miss their window of opportunity.

A long sigh escaped you as you rested some of your weight on the sink.

Ghost’s bout of nausea hadn’t been helping the overall atmosphere in the base either. He’d hogged the bathroom pretty much all morning, vomiting loudly. Soap had been lingering outside for pretty all of it, occasionally knocking on the door to ask the man if he needed the medic… to which Ghost would reply with, “No. Gaz is keeping ‘em occupied anyway. Besides, I think I just ate-” and then he’d get cut off by puking back into the toilet bowl.

You were curious about what exactly was wrong with him but hadn’t had an opportunity to even catch a quick glimpse of his state, with Kate and Price immediately pulling you aside to ask about the events that had transpired last night the moment you were out of the medical room. Alejandro and Rudy had also interrogated you but that resulted in them having more questions.

Bewildered was the word you thought best described the base at the moment.

A pit was slowly growing in your stomach. You were dreading what nightfall would bring. They were coming for you and there are only so many times you can escape the Foundation’s clutches before luck runs out.

You were glad you had packed your silver-plated knives and stake.

***

The clues at the bottom of her crossword were slowly blurring into one inky blob on the page. A pen, slightly shaking with mild anger, hovered over the third row spanning across the answer area. Usually, 72 would make light work of this, but today, she seemed preoccupied.

23 looked at her with caution from across the tent as she fiddled with the new compression bandaged Phillip had quickly slipped onto her slowly healing knee. The swelling had gone down a little, but it still looked sore. She watched, with increasing anxiety, as 72 grew more and more tense. Eventually, she caved and lashed out with a loud growl, throwing her pen to the side.

“You okay?” 23 asked with trepidation.

“Can you believe he’s making us stay here? Instead of, you know, letting us do our jobs?”

23 shrugged, turning to pick up her camcorder and searching for the switch as 72 continued her rant.

“Like, the Red Room clearly thinks we’re ready or we wouldn’t have been deployed, you know? His report is what’s gonna get us out of the Red Room and actually into a definitive pack. That we’ll stay in…”

She drew her knees to her chest, hugging the newspaper.

“… Instead of being passed from one packmaster to another.”

23 shrugged.

“Maybe he’s right,” the girl suggested, flicking through her footage.

72 grumbled.

“We’re going to end up paying for this. We always do,” she mumbled into the paper, “He thinks he’s doing the right thing but as soon as he mentions on the final report that we did nothing-”

“How do you even know he’s gonna say that?” 23 looked up at her with an exasperated expression, only emphasised by the blue glow from the device’s screen highlighting her features.

“Because he has to?!” 72 sat upright. “They’ll ask.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Why are you sticking up for him?!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! You’re on his side!”

If 23 had pearls, she’d be clutching them in response to such a false and heinous accusation.

“72, I’m not taking anyone’s side. We both know that he’s nice so he’s not going to do anything to get us in trouble, okay?”

“He’s the reason your knee’s fucked up.”

72 pointed at the bandaging on the girl’s leg. 23 cast her gaze downwards and to the side, covering the dressing with her hands.

“Are you scared of him? Is that what it is?” 72 asked, before bringing her hand to her forehead. “Oh my God! You’re scared! You’re doing as your told for once because you’re scared of him!”

“I’m not scared of him! Besides, it was my fault my knee’s screwed up, I was the one that tripped… It’s just-”

“Just what? Scared the big bad wolf is gonna eat ya?”

23 glared daggers at her.

“No, I’m not scared. I’m just being reasonable. Maybe, he has a point. Maybe, we should stay here.”

72 leaned back, her eyes narrowing.

“If I left and followed them to the base, would you let me do it alone?”

Silence fell upon them briefly, only the sounds of awkward rustling filled the tent.

“Well?” 72 asked impatiently.

“I mean…” 23 trailed off, scratching her upper arm idly as she thought.

“Yes or no!”

Kate’s fingers were interlocked, her hands tightly wrapped around one another, in a ball, resting on her head as she looked at the ground. Y/N was in their prime. They knew. She, on the other hand, clearly was losing touch and at an alarming rate.

“Fine!” the girl groaned, throwing her head back.

***

Price sat across from her, a steaming cup of tea sitting atop a small table was the only barrier between the two. He let out a sigh, the air whistling a little as it left his nose. His hands were comfortably placed on his lower abdomen, a contrast to his right leg, which jigged up and down, giving away his brewing anxiety. The captain was growing to resent this silence, waiting and wanting Kate to fill it because he couldn’t, he had no words.

The tense quiet was what was left of Alejandro’s panicked anger and Rudy’s unsuccessful attempts to quell it. He had shouted, paced, accused and demanded that Y/N needed to leave. Kate had stated that she could only let Y/N go once the contact had confirmed it was safe, and as much as she hoped you’d agree, you took Alejandro’s side.

You would leave come tomorrow’s sunrise and just hope that by the time you’d reach the border, the people Kate had been talking to would be there to greet you… like the angels at the Pearly Gates.

Marks of Alejandro’s outburst were everywhere in this room: the door only now just ceasing its swinging from when he’d stormed off, the slam of his fist still ringing in Kate’s ears, the scattered papers and the empty dossier precariously hanging off the table’s edge.

Price’s brown eyes looked over to the old electric fan atop one of the filing cabinets, feeling himself become engrossed in its soothing blanket of white noise as it whirred away, fighting to do its job.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken on Y/N.”

Quickly, he turned back to Kate.

“What?”

“We already have enough shit going on. Y/N… I didn’t need to add them to the list of our problems,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“No… No!” he implored, scooting his chair, trying to close at least some of the distance, “You did the right thing.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes intense, darting, doing their best not to give away her bubbling emotions.

“It’s difficult to see that right now. We’re here because Alejandro is allowing us to be here, he’s already jumping a lot of hoops for us.”

“And you’re doing the same Y/N. We don’t leave each other. Where would they be right now if you hadn’t found them?” Price asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Dead,” Kate stated, plain as day, “Or worse.”

Price’s eyes creased and his mutton chops rose as he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“Exactly. And besides, neither of you have screwed us over. They said it themself, the soldiers after them won’t come for us if we keep out of their way.”

“Usually, John.”

#winter solstice 2023 #winter solstice writing event #cod mw22 #cod mwii fic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #phillip graves cod #cod mw2 werewolf au

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dyingcornerpixel · 3 months ago

Note

gorgeous visage, cherished memories, and unshakable devotion for valeria garza ! - @your-local-loverboy

Valeria my wife <3 she's so cool I wish cartels were real

— Coyote and Valeria would definitely keep something that reminded them of the other cuz after the events of mwii they wouldn't really be able to see each other. Coyote would do the cheesy thing and keep a picture of Val in his wallet and hang one up in his locker, while Valeria would keep a bit of hair or a drop of blood in a heart shaped locket :3

— Coyote remembers the interrogation scene FONDLY. It was basically love at first sight for him even considering the uh... conditions of the moment. But hey, he's a hopeless romantic at heart! Cut him some slack.

Valeria on the other hand also remembers that moment quite fondly as well. Mainly because she thinks it was funny how those two first met and Coyote immediately fell in love with her.

— After Graves' betrayal Coyote is PANIKING for everyone's safety, but deep down he's really most concerned for Valeria. Even after Valeria is saved he's still worrying over here and VOLUNTEERS TO "WATCH OVER HER TO MAKE SURE SHE DOESN'T TRY ANYTHING" which we all know is just an excuse to be around her 💀 He's such a lovesick puppy it's disgusting

Valeria is also worrying about Coyote but in a more "istg of they hurt my favorite boy I'm gonna kill Graves myself" but she can't exactly do anything given her current predicament. I like to imagine she kind of teases Coyote about being her knight in shining armor after they kick Graves' ass.

Anyways now everybody look at how beautiful my wife is

#kurt.txt #🦂🌹#🐾🪖#coyogarza

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carrera-ffxiv · 11 months ago

Text

Happy Starlight!

She skipped and danced along the stone steps of Ishgard, twirling a dark umbrella in hand tainted a sanguine hue. The snow that graced her skin was indistinguishable from the fair tones, only her face clearly visible. Her dark hair flowed down one side of her visage; she wore a raven gown and a black coat with fur for trim. The tiny woman seemed unassuming, at least in Ishgard. She seemed happy and beaming with energy. An odd sight for one who may have seen her before, as was the situation with Damien.

The details regarding his trip to Valnain were still being secured. Obtaining a guide that knew the area and was Viera was more difficult than one could have predicted. Alain had left the frozen lands to venture farther south in hopes of securing someone who could assist them. Damien’s purpose in Ishgard was to get additional supplies that they had needed and attempt to bridge some sort of truce between himself and Cordelia. It was, perhaps, a stretch but he had wanted for her nose to be as far out of his business as he could possibly imagine. The only way he could do that was to coax her into some sort of false sense of security.

The large leather jacket he wore was lined on the inside with thick fur to provide suitable warmth and he wore wool gloves to prevent his hands from exposure to the elements. His honey hues caught the slightly familiar figure out of the corner of his gaze as he examined various produce items at one of the stalls in the market. His frame had shifted so he could obtain a better look at the woman. “Lady Blackheart,” he greeted with a raised brow. Her demeanor was certainly different than what he could recall at Vahalia’s dinner party.

“Oh Damien! Perfect timing~” she sang off, moving to clutch his arm; there was a slightly uncomfortable clearing of his throat as she took hold. “I know I was a little mean when we first met but now I hear you have eyes for my cousin! How endearing! I’ve recently had reason to mull over and realize that I don’t -have- to be enemies with my cousin’s lovers. As such, I’ve brought a gift. Several in fact!” A pink hue kissed her fair cheeks from the cold, she would tug him away from the market toward the Foundation. “Oh, and Vahalia sends her well-wishes. Come on~” she would whine at him, an almost feminine, vulnerable, and strangely lucid disposition smiling at him.

His jaw had clenched and his visage displayed a stoic reprieve to his previously curious look. “Endearing,” he’d murmur in his response with a slight roll to his golden eyes. “I wasn’t aware that we were enemies in the first place, Lady Blackheart, and your cousin and I are not lovers.” His tone was flat as he offered her the correction. While the first part of her words was arguably true, the latter was a bit of a reach. There was a moment of hesitation as Carrera attempted to lure him farther away from the market and he halted in a statuesque manner. “I’ve no need for gifts.”

Carrera would swing in front of him, “Oh, come, come Damien. Let me present you with the gifts and what you do with them is entirely up to you. You could… take them yourself, or let me dispose of them. Whatever is convenient for you. Or did you prefer the whole path of being enemies? Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be glad to learn what the surprise entails, if nothing else. Did you prefer your women to beg? Mayhap we have that in common?” She beamed a smile at him.

A steadied breath was drawn into slightly parted lips as Carrera continued to beckon him. His eyes did avert at her portion regarding making enemies but Damien simply cleared his throat to recenter himself and took a step in her direction. In truth, the less enemies he had around right now the better. He was well positioned in the idea that Valeria would never directly cause him harm, but he seemed to have a consistent awareness of Vahalia’s duty to protect her family at whatever cost that entailed. Damien wasn’t about to find himself on the end of her ire because of a squabble with her cousin. “Very well, Lady Blackheart,” he offered in a cordial response.

She clapped happily, giddy with excitement, “Perfect, perfect! Come, come.” The lady in black would drag Damien along the Vigil and into the Foundation- strangely a pleasant walk with a striking view only Ishgard could offer, and through it all Carrera almost appeared… normal. Almost.. All seemed fine and well until they started approaching the gates that led to the Steps of Faith; she would take a sharp turn with the Gray man in tow. “Not much longer now. Have you often been down with the ne’er-do-wells and the peasants that don’t live in lofty manors? Such interesting people.”

There was a bit of uncertainty as she led him away from the market area. One of his free hands had casually moved to feel for the hilt of the modest dagger at his waist to confirm that it was still on his person before he released a held breath. “I don’t live within the city, Lady Blackheart, so I can’t say that I make much time here regularly.” He’d shrug slightly to himself after he had finished speaking. There was a brief pause as Damien sighed rather loudly and slightly put an emphasis in slowing his pace. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Oh, really? Is the Gray estate not within Ishgard? I had assumed as much. Shows how much I know.” she gave light shrug, “But then, I wasn’t commissioned to look into you.” Her mismatched eyes met his, a golden hue, and another with an aetheric blue peered into him. “Are you concerned Damien? Can I call you that? Please, call me Carrera. Don’t worry, you won’t have need for your dagger just yet, I wouldn’t let anyone harm a hair on your head! At least until you leave my sight. Just a little further into the Brume. There aren’t pesky Temple Knights or clergy around to bother us.”

“The Gray estate, the one that Cordelia occupies is within Ishgard,” he replied flatly. “Mine, however, is not.” There were few within Ishgard’s nobility who knew exactly where Damien resided. He preferred to leave them with the knowledge that he regularly flitted around and never stayed in one place for too long. The few that did know knew that Ambrose had purchased a modest manor in the Western Highlands for Damien shortly after Ambrose’s marriage to Cordelia. “You may call me Damien,” he exhaled. His patience was beginning to falter. “I’m struggling to find the reasoning for this.”

The apprehension was apparent on his face as they they had approached the stone building that looked as if it had seen better days. All pretense immediately dropped as her smile faded away. “Business. That’s the reason for this.” Her voice was now terse, a fleeting reminiscence of his sister-in-law’s. A wind and a turn down the stone path, bricks both beside and below damaged and cracked from decades of conflict; they stopped in front of a wooden door, by which a homeless woman sat. Carrera leaned in graceful fashion toward the woman. Did she say something? Did she give the person something? His lips pursed into a thin line as honey hues observed the interaction. “Come, come.” she waved him into the room, practically dancing with excitement now.

The sight that followed was in equal measure jarring and unnerving. A spark of anxiety would creep into anyone surprised with the sight: Five people in smallclothes strung up by their necks, whimpering and whining as their life dwindled-- they struggled to keep alive as the very tip of their toes found a measure of purchase on a stool below each of them. What looked like wheat sacks were over all their heads. Two ruffians stood on either side of the room, looking just as homeless and disheveled as the woman outside; their countenance however, betrayed their appearance: Observing, calm and still. Clearly this was not an unfamiliar sight for them and they watched with care and poise as the two guests of honor entered the room. They were met with two deep bows.

Desperate crying, whimpering and the creaking of wooden stools hung in the air until Carrera’s voice broke the silence. “Happy Starlight!” she squeed with excitement.

He was unsure of what had taken place though Carrera’s demeanor had piped up and that had only given Damien more cause for concern. The visual before him had caused his jaw to square as he exhaled slowly. “This your idea of a present?” He asked flatly.

His golden hues had happened over the strewn up bodies once more. The creaking of the chairs and their whimpering behind gags hadn’t caused as much as an effect as one would’ve assumed with the man. He’d seen his fair share of injuries and people that didn’t pay their bets and debts with the races found similar fates. “What’re we doing here, Carrera?”

“These men were hired to follow you and report on you… and they did! Where you go, what you do~ Whoever you spend time with. I thought I’d give you the honor of first blood.”

Damien inhaled deeply, his gaze narrowed at Carrera for a moment before he stepped forward. His thick leather boot would carefully press at the leg of one of the chairs though not enough to move it. “Who hired them?” He asked as he turned to face her.

She spoke with a smug grin. “One Ricard Blythe. I thought this would send a nice message that his …advances are not welcomed. Though, to be frank, it wasn’t all my idea. The execution, perhaps, but the request to handle this was from another.”

“Who made the request?” Damien quipped with a raised brow. His arms move to fold over his chest as he took a step back from the chairs to pace between them idly. “If I recall from the dinner, you don’t travel this way often so it’s clear that this is more than simple work to you.”

“I don’t often speak on who commissions me for my art. You know how it is. But you’re a smart man, I don’t often take requests personally, and handle them myself. I’m sure you could imagine there are few that could motivate me so. Few that would be rather annoyed if they found out that, during your outings, they made mention of Valeria.”

The connecting of the dots was, perhaps, but he preferred to hear it spoken by Carrera. He already knew that Ricard Blythe had reported to Vahalia that he and Valeria were seen in Tailfeather and at the Starlight Gala, Ricard hadn’t denied his involvement in such reportings. “I presume you were made aware that Valeria was previously betrothed to Blythe?” His tone seemed to be rather amused by the notion as he feigned a slight chuckle. “I’ve yet to discern whether he’s a jealous man or that his intentions run deeper than this.” He sighed. “I also presume that you didn’t anticipate this merely being a quick hanging to prove your point?”

“Well, luckily for him, he was betrothed. Only out of sparing my dearest cousin Valeria more heartache is why he still breathes. And as for them, I had thought you might lose your nerve and I’d end up cleaning up the mess.” She teased in a tone both teasing and grim. “I care not for their fates, just that a message is sent. There’s still more associates in his little network and they will be rooted out.

I intended on cutting out their tongues as a gift for the client and eyes as a gift for Ricard. I’m very considerate, you see.” The hostages whined and shifted frantically. One accidentally knocked over their stool and began choking. She paid it no mind, gaze still locked on Damien’s. She seemed proud of herself-- as if somewhere in that mind of hers, she was being genuinely thoughtful to others. Hers was an innocent demeanor without context, but within, it was broken and murderous.

His golden hues exuded a particular warmth when the Hyur looked at someone, but in this instance the warmth felt anything but inviting. He remained fixated on Carrera as the whimpering progressed and the sounds of one of the men on his way to meeting his demise could be heard. After several seconds of silence, Damien turned to one of the large men that stood near the chairs. “Get him back up on it,” he urged with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Carrera nodded and the man complied. Damien paused for a moment before his fingertips reached for the tailored coat he wore and quickly removed it from his shoulders to discard it off to the side. “In many instances, I would’ve just been keen on letting them hang and you collecting whatever mementos you’d like but,” he’d pause as he began to roll up the sleeves of a meticulously tailored shirt. “Valeria has been quite impacted by the actions of Mr. Blythe and I intend to settle that score as best I can with the gift you’ve provided.”

She blinked, pursed her lips, and canted her head, “Should I take their eyes and tongues now? I need receipts. I mean, if you need them to talk I suppose I could just take some fingers or something.”

“Which one has obtained the most information on my whereabouts? Including those with Valeria?”

Carrera sighed, slightly annoyed. “The one you just saved apparently saw the events. But they all worked together as a team, in shifts, specifically watching you. Must be nice to be so popular!”

Damien nodded as he hummed to himself. A hand moved to gently tap at his chin. “You seem to be in quite the rush, Lady Blackheart. Here I thought your demeanor gave way to you enjoying these types of engagements.”

“I like having fun! But I just need to make sure the job is done. If I leave them in your charge you might go soft and let them run away! It’d be too embarrassing.” she replied in a whiny tone and puffed her cheeks.

He’d sigh briskly before he approached the man that had been resituated atop the chair. In a rare occurrence, Damien had to cant his neck to look upwards at the man. “You reported that I disrespected Lady Valeria’s honor in that stable, no?” Clearly there was no chance for the man to answer as Damien turned to face Carrera once more. “I want him to watch himself lose his cock and balls and then I want him flayed. Preferably alive and conscious.”

“I can do that! I mean, or you can take that one. But just one. The rest I need to make sure a message is sent. The more parts the better!” she nodded sagely.

“We’ll save this one for last then,” Damien remarked with a nod as he reached to remove the dagger from the sheath at his waist. “Feel free to send your message,” he’d gesture with his freehand towards the men whose whimpering now began to sound more like the anxious squealing of pigs before slaughter.

“Oh! Oh, you want to do it here, right now? I thought you’d get squeamish and I’d have to kick the stools out one by one! Okay. I can work with this. Get my tools for him!” she’d demand. A small duffel bag was dropped beside Damien, consisting of cloth packaging revealing cleanly kept surgical instruments.

“Why would we wait?” Damien asked with a half shrug as he stepped forward. There was an obvious flare to his nostrils as he sucked in a heavy breath. He approached the man next to the one identified as the Tailfeather rat and reached upwards to grab the rope so that he could begin to cut it. The man, knowing that his end was imminent, began to flail and squeal uncontrollably; the motions didn’t seem to phase Damien. Perhaps he’d compared it to the slaughter of an animal; Something he had been familiar with on more than one occasion. When the rope had been cut, he stepped back to allow the body to topple to the floor with a loud thud.

The knife was quickly tucked into his leather belt as he reached forward to grab the end of the rope and pulled it tight and his other hand removed the gag and then clenched firmly over the man’s nose to force his mouth open. “There would be more satisfaction out of taking the eyes first, but this way no one will hear them scream.” His voice was musing, considerate even as he glanced up at her with somewhat of a smile.

Her visage shifted from the hostage to Damien again, looking content-- “Happy Starlight.” she beamed with a warm grin.

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