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gemini-sensei · 8 months

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Biggest Surprise | Cobra Kai x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could do any headcanons or maybe a blurb on Reader having a cryptic pregnancy? And she out of the blue goes into labor or has the baby/s?

CW: secret relationship, mentioned sneaking out, hospitals, cryptic/stealth pregnancy, labor pains, very brief discussion of miscarriage, surprise baby,

Reader was walking into the kitchen of her shared apartment to grab a snack on the afternoon her life changed forever. She greeted Moon as she walked past, both wearing pretty smiles. It was a regular day of the week as far as they were concerned, rather chill and uneventful so far.

Except when she opened the fridge, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She threw the door away to grab her stomach, making everything in the door rattle. It caught Moon's attention and she stood up.

"Are you okay?" she asked, walking over as Reader groaned in pain.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

The pain passed and Reader let out a heavy breath. She took a moment to calm down, but it was a little hard with Moon fussing over her. Whatever that pain was, it wasn't anything to get worked up over. So she shrugged her roommate off with a little smile and thanks, then grabbed the snack she'd initially come in there for.

Moon watched her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Reader nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was probably nothing."

They let it go and Reader went to her room, But about thirty minutes later, the same pain shot through her again. She was lying in bed, groaning as she withered on the sheets, texting Moon that it was happening again.

It didn't take long for Moon to get to her room but by the time she got to Reader, her roommate was halfway curled up on her side, holding her pudgy belly. She saw the tears in her eyes and the pained look on her face, making Moon feel horrible as she wanted nothing more than for her friend to be okay.

As she rubbed Reader's arm, trying to comfort her, she said, "We should go to the hospital."

"Yeah, probably," Reader groaned. The idea scared her, but what choice did they really have? "What could this be?"

"You could have a ruptured spleen or something," Moon suggested.

They waited for the pain to pass again before Moon helped Reader up and into her shoes. They walked down to Moon's car, where Reader got another shock of pain as soon as she sat down and started crying.

"Oh, God, Moon, please hurry!" she begged.

Moon helped buckle her in and rushed to the driver's side. She drove them to the hospital as fast as she possibly could without getting pulled over, though they got pretty lucky with green lights and little traffic. It was an agonizing ride for Reader as she dealt with the pain with loud groans; it was unlike anything she had ever felt before and it was hard not to scream.

When they arrived at the hospital, Reader hobbled up to the door until a nurse saw them coming in and brought over a wheelchair. Moon explained what was going on and they took Reader into a room quickly so they could figure out what was wrong with her. They took her vitals and asked her questions about her previous health and any sicknesses, and then they took her blood and promised to come back. It took a while and everything was up in the air until the doctor came in.

She introduced herself and smiled calmly, hoping to keep the air in the room as easy as possible. "I just have to ask you a few questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?"

Reader felt a little embarrassed as the topic came up. She glanced over at Moon, who had no idea of anything she'd been up to over the last year or so. She'd firmly told all of her friends that she wasn't interested in seeing anyone, but that really wasn't the case at all... However, she knew better than to lie to the doctor.

"A few weeks ago, why?" she asked. She couldn't have gotten an STI or anything like that. She didn't get hurt, at least that she could remember. So that left one final option. "Oh my god! Am I pregnant?"

The doctor maintained a calm demeanor. "Yes, yes you are. We were so shocked by the results, we had to run the tests two more times just to make sure."

Moon gasped softly, but didn't give any judgment or words about the secret Reader had been keeping. If anything, her dating life was the last thing on everyone's mind and Moon had her priorities in the right places. "Is the baby okay? I mean, Reader is in a lot of pain. Is she...?"

The doctor quickly shook her head. "No, no. Nothing like that. In fact, Reader... you're in labor. Those pains you're feeling are contractions, you're body preparing to deliver the baby."

"What? But that can't be right. I never even knew about it!" Reader cried out desperately. She was nowhere near ready to have a baby. She'd only just found out she was pregnant. She shook her head, crying harshly, and Moon tried to wipe away her tears. "This can't be happening! I can't have a baby!"

The doctor came over to comfort her as well, shushing her gently. She had a very maternal nature to her that helped ease Reader as her sobs turned into soft whimpers. "Hey, hey, I know this is scary. This is a lot for you to find out in just a few minutes, but you're going to be okay. My staff and I are going to take care of you two and you're going to be just fine, alright?"

Reader nodded, though she had a few questions about all of this. "How is this even possible?"

The doctor sighed. "It's fairly rare. It's called a cryptic pregnancy. Usually, very few or no symptoms present themselves and you're body doesn't change much. For the most part, some women will learn of the pregnancy halfway through. You're one of the ones that have made it to full term it seems."

They all fell silent as the information sank in. Then Moon asked, "So what now?"

"We'll, you're pretty close to giving birth. We're going to move you to the maternity ward before that happens and we're going to give you the rundown of what's going to happen," the doctor explained. "We're going to try and prepare you for this as much as we can before the baby comes."

"Okay," Reader said, laying her head back as she had to sit with the reality of the situation.

She was about to have a baby. A baby she didn't know about, a baby conceived months ago, a baby wasn't even slightly prepared for. She put a hand over her stomach, feeling nothing but soft, plush fat. It was hard to imagine there was a baby somewhere behind it, ready to be born nonetheless. And it scared the crap out of her. Where was she going to put a baby? How was she going to raise a baby? How was she going to tell the father?

Before she could think of any solutions, another wave of contractions rushed through her and she grit her teeth, groaning. She knew that the closer they got to each other, the closer her baby was to being born, and she was terrified. What was she going to do?

xxx

After being moved to the maternity ward, Reader was taken through some brief albeit helpful coaching. She listened to the doctor carefully and had Moon at her side the whole time. Though it was a startling and scary experience, Moon was optimistic throughout the whole situation. She held Reader's hand through contractions and promised that she was going to stay there with her for the whole thing. It made Reader feel ten times better.

When they were left alone, Moon finally asked, "Is there anyone you want me to call?"

She didn't ask who the father was. She didn't pry. She only asked if Reader wanted him there. It was so simple and sweet of her, and Reader appreciated it. If only it helped her figure out what to do.

"I don't know," she mumbled, thinking of her boyfriend. They'd been dating for almost a year, albeit in secret.

They hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of their relationship, thinking that if they started dating, it could meddle with their friend group. It was already hard enough with the whole backstory of Tory and Miguel and Sam and Robby thing always in the past. No one ever mentioned it, but they all knew it was there. What was the sense in making things harder? Then things just happened and she and her boyfriend liked being alone together, no one asking them dumb questions or getting in their way. It was easy, simple, lovely. So they snuck around and told some little white lies to see each other. No harm, no foul. Neither of them could have predicted where it would lead them.

Moon nodded in understanding. "Okay." She stood up and came to sit at Reader's side, showing her roommate her phone as her mood brightened. "Well, I started a list of things we're going to need. Obvious diapers and clothes and blankets and bottles-"

"Whoa, Moon, slow down," Reader said, looking between her and the long list she curated. "We don't even know what's going to happen. I mean, I haven't taken any prenatal meds or anything like that. I mean, what if the baby is sick or I'm not even allowed to keep them?"

"The hospital isn't going to take your baby from you, Reader," Moon told her, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her shoulder. "And secondly, it isn't like you drink or do drugs, so I bet the baby is fine. And if they are sick, we can figure it out."

"We?"

"I told you, I'm here for you. For all of this, not just the birth."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to. That's what best friends are for."

It wasn't long after that when the doctor and nurses came in and Reader was being instructed to push. Moon held her hand through the whole process, telling her that she was doing a great job. The delivery didn't take very long either. Reader pushed all of four times before the little one slid out and the doctor caught them.

Moon was encouraging her and telling her how proud she was of her when the loud wail of a baby broke the air. Both young women looked up to see the doctor holding up the messy infant with happy eyes.

"It's a boy."

"He's so little," Reader said as her baby was laid on her chest. She smiled at him, through the tears and sweat that poured down her face. Overcome with pride and love, she cried. "Hi there."

He nestled up to her, wailing and fussy. They were given a minute before a nurse scooped him up to be cleaned and evaluated. Reader watched from her position on the bed, her smile never leaving her face. Suddenly, her whole world had changed and it was all because of that little boy, whom she loved so much.

Once he was declared healthy, things moved quickly after that. Reader was cleaned up and checked on, her baby boy was dressed and given a bassinet to rest in, and things calmed down after that. Moon and Reader talked for a little bit about what to do and how they were going to do things, but as soon as Reader yawned, Moon told her that they would pick up the conversation later. Before she fell asleep, though, Reader asked Moon to tell their friends to come by the next day. She wanted them all to meet her son. Moon told her she'd let them know and with that, Reader fell asleep.

xxx

The following day, when everyone showed up at the hospital, they were a little confused as to where they were going and why they were there. Moon hadn't been very specific in the details, as she'd been almost as tired as Reader when she'd sent the text to the group chat, so everyone arrived a little worried.

They were chatting in the waiting, trying to figure out what they were doing there and what was going on. Yasmine had texted Moon that they were there, all having shown up within minutes of each other because as soon as visiting hours started, they were all pretty much there. Moon came out to get them and she was smiling wide.

"Oh, you all made it. Reader is going to be so happy to see you," she said.

Miguel asked, rather concerned. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"Yeah, you all you said was that Reader was in the hospital and wanted to see us," Sam said, just as worried. "Then we all texted you and you never texted back."

Moon got a guilty and apologetic look on her face. "Oops. I'm sorry. So much has happened. We've pretty much been here since yesterday afternoon and last night I fell asleep. My bad."

"Reader isn't dying, is she?" Robby asked.

"What? No, nothing like that," Moon said, shaking her head. She waved for them to follow her and she started walking. "Just follow me. It's something you kind of have to see to believe."

They walked down a few halls and as they approached the room, Moon slowed down and put a finger to her lips. "Shh. You have to be quiet when you walk in. I'm looking at you, Hawk."

"I can be quiet," he said defensively.

Moon playfully rolled her eyes as Sam elbowed him in the side, then she opened the door and led them inside. No one was ready for what they saw inside.

Reader was sitting on the bed with a small bundle wrapped up in her arms. She was smiling and talking softly, not noticing the group coming into the room at first. They were in a state of shock as they watched her, not at all believing what they were seeing until a tiny hand lifted from the blue blanket in her arms and reached for her. She reached back and let the little hand take hold of her finger.

"Oh my god," Yasmine let out.

Tory scoffed. "Well, that's the last thing I expected."

"What were you actually expecting?" Demetri asked.

"Stitches," she asked.

Reader looked up and smiled at her friends. "Hey."

Sam hurried over and stood at the end of the bed, as if to get a closer look but was scared to get too close. For as shocked as she was, she kept her voice calm and steady, not wanting to tighten the baby. "Reader, I didn't even know you were pregnant."

"Neither did I."

Everyone's jaws dropped at that.

"Are you serious?" Tory asked, walking over with Yasmine close behind.

The guys followed, too, but let the ladies go to Reader first, as they were obviously far more excited and ready to face the reality of the situation than they were.

Reader nodded to Tory. "Yeah. No symptoms, no changes. No indication at all. And yet, he's as healthy as can be."

She looked back down at her baby, who was looking up at her with big, pretty eyes. She couldn't help but think that he had his father's eyes, but she kept that thought to herself. They were beautiful and she loved them.

"It's a boy?" Yasmine asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Reader giggled.

The ladies - mostly Moon, Sam, and Yasmine - engaged Reader and talked about the baby, fussing over him and his mere existence. They talked a little about how it had happened and what was going to happen next, which was when Demetri and Miguel stepped in and asked the harder-hitting and logical questions - how was she going to pay for a baby? Where was he going to stay and sleep? Where was she going to get everything she needed for a baby? It was a lot to think about and they within good reason to be asking such questions.

Robby and Hawk stayed close to the wall, both a little awkward in the situation. Robby was a little uneasy around babies and though Hawk worked with young kids at the dojo, he had little experience with babies. They didn't say much but congratulated Reader.

When asked if anyone wanted to hold him, Yasmine and Sam got into a small argument over who should get to hold him first, failing to realize Moon had been the first person after Reader to get to hold him. Ultimately, the honor went to Miguel, who was just as eager to hold the little guy.

It was a night moment, all of them together, celebrating this new life. Reader was absolutely scared shitless but her friends assured her that she wasn't going to be alone in this. As far as they were concerned, the baby was one of them now. They were their own little family after all.

But her stomach still fluttered with butterflies as she looked out at the room, knowing she was going to have to face the father sooner rather than later. That was why she wanted this little meet and greet organized in the first place so that he would show up and meet his son. Reader wouldn't have to tell him one-on-one, even though she knew that perhaps that'd be the best way to do it. She was young and scared and in her mind, this was the easiest way to rip the bandaid off. She knew she'd be talking with him alone soon, but until that time came, she'd enjoy this moment.

Who's the father of Reader's baby? Let me know who you want it to be and I'll write a part two! Or if you want multiple endings and you just choose who you want it to be, I can do that too.

Choose: Hawk | Miguel | Robby | Demetri

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callofdudes · 1 year

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I know you have a temporary writers block at the moment but I wanted to leave this here.

I thought about could you do the alone mission form mw2 but add a y/n point of view as well

Platonic please

I'm slowly making my way through my inbox and trying to get everything out. But I have been working on this for a hot minute @itsscromp 🫡

A/N: This will replay the Alone mission from your perspective. I have included a majority of Soap and Ghost' s dialogue, some being repurposed and such. The mission won't be 100% accurate as some details I'm foggy on, but please enjoy regardless. And spoilers for the Alone mission I guess??

This is so long... Oh my gosh.

Just over 10K words, so buckle up.

CW: Blood, violence, heavy swearing, near death, still calling you Cobra 🐍

Everything was a blur. Your adrenaline spikes, and you remember your body being thrown from the moving truck. Graves curses angrily when you slam the door open and tumble out. Your body slams against the asphalt. Pain spreads through your limbs as you tumble and roll down into the ditch.

You roll over twigs and branches that scrape and drag across your skin. Your body crashes into a tree in the dirt, leaving you shaking.

You pant. You hear the truck stop along the road. You force your breath in and lay as still in the slick mud as possible.

You pray that you won't be found.

Graves starts yelling and cussing.

"Why weren't you watching them!?"

"Let them go! They won't make it out alive on their own anyway." He orders his men back in the car, and the tires pick up back across the road.

You wheeze. Alejandro. They still had Alejandro.

Your lungs compress and ignite like flames, each breath hard and forced.

You pick up your aching body and crawl out of the ditch. Your wrists ache, still zip tied together. You reach up and press your comm. "Soap?? Ghost?? Can either of you hear me??" You wheeze and coughed.

The commlink crackles and your spirits rise.

"Cobra! This is Soap, how copy?"

Relief floods your body. "Stable. Currently crawling in a ditch down the road-" You cough. "Where's your location?"

"A town just a couple miles from here. Meet me there."

You struggle with the your sore hands. "Copy that."

You stand yourself up on your knees and rise to your feet. The rain chills your body, the moonlight being your only guide. Your vision blurs momentarily, blood rushing through your ears. You shake your head quickly and stagger forward.

You walk back up the road to the shootout and look down into the brush. That must have been where Johnny went. You hop down and trek the sticky mud. All the while struggling with your knife. You needed to get this stupid zip tie off but it was proving a bit more difficult in your shaky form.

About halfway through the walk your commlink crackles again.

"Sergeant how copy?" The voice is deeper and makes your insides loosen with reassurance.

"Ghost! I'm headed for Soap."

"Alright sergeant. That town is crawling with shadows. Soap is hidden inside one of the first shops you'll see, to your left. go straight there."

"Copy that."

You slid down a slope and came upon the darkened town. Definitely abandoned and silent. Everyone must be in hiding.

You notice the first building had a faint light on and a sign above the door. You look both ways before making a break for it. You struggle with the wet door handle. It jiggles and pulls but you can't quite grab it.

"Soap- it's me!" You attempt to whisper yell through the door.

The door is pushed open and Soap rushes out, his gun knocking against your jugular. "Easy- easy-"

Johnny looks both ways before pulling you back inside. "Hells bells you scared me!" He scolds.

"Apologies. I couldn't get the door open." You raise your hands to show him your predicament. "That's alright." Johnny pulls out his knife and slices it down between your wrists and snaps the zip tie.

"I thought Graves got you? I was worried."

"I jumped from the truck."

Johnny opens his arms and pulls you in tightly. "You crazy bastard."

You chuckle. And then you notice his arm. "Soap, are you ok?"

Johnny hums. "Oh! That, yeah, just a bullet wound. I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. Just look at yer self."

Johnny grabs a lamp and points it across your body. In the darkness you could feel the damage but were unsure of what damage that was. Your pants are tearing at the knees and blood is starting to stain deep through your pant leg. Your arms are clearly going to bruise and you are starting to shake more violently.

"If you need a stim I'm sure we can find one."

You shudder and shake your head. "No, I'll be fine. I just want to get us in and out."

"Luckily Ghost will help. Not like he didn't leave us- I still don't know how he got to the church in the half the time I did."

You shrug. "He IS the Ghost."

Johnny nods. "Speaking of..." *He presses down his comm. "Ghost. Cobra has reached my position. Awaiting further instructions."

You wring out your wrists anxiously.

"Shadows are swarming the grounds. Our best option is to split up."

"Split us up!? What-" Johnny claps his hand over your mouth. You grab his forearm and quickly shut up. Johnny releases you after a moment and consults his comms. "Lt, is splitting us up the best idea?"

"Two soldiers together are more noticable than one."

"Are you injured?" Ghost asks again, referring to you. You huff, "I'm not a medic."

"Tell me something I don't know."

You look at Johnny who chews on Ghost's words for a moment. "You ok to go on your own?"

"Anything to get out alive." You reply.

Johnny clicks his comm again. "Alright Lt. What do we do?"

"Keep your blood in, you'll need every drop."

"Thanks for the tip. Where are you?" Johnny asks.

"There's a church. I'm heading to it. Let's RV there. You'll need to improvise to survive."

"Get Cobra suited up. No doubt Graves confiscated your weapons?" Ghost questions.

You search your person, only finding your Glock at the front of your armor. "Stripped."

"I ain't got much to work with here either Lt."

"Just get out there and worry about not getting killed then. You know protocol."

Johnny looks up at you and nods. "See you on the other side?"

"You'd be stupid to think I'm going anywhere."

You two shake on it. Johnny checks the windows and gives you the go-ahead. You slip out the front door into the night. Watery lights drift through the rain. Old buildings cast black shadows and remains of life.

You slip around a corner, still trying to shake the impending exhaustion of your fall. You turn on your comm. and listen to the sound of Soap and Ghost's voices. Ghost was focusing on Johnny, leaving you to assume the coast was clear and keep moving. Thank goodness it was.

Usually, soldiers were mindless enough to talk to each other loud enough to hear, but risking your chances wasn't an option.

You slip into another house and sweep through the interior. The upstairs bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living room. No signs of any better gun or any ammunition.

You walk back down the stairs, your knee buckling on the last step, sending you tumbling into the wall. Your hand moves out and you manage to catch yourself before your face had a nice meeting with said wall.

You pant, your leg spasming before settling down again.

"Cobra how copy?" Ghost questions.

"Solid. Just tripped."

"Don't give away your position."

"Affirmative sir."

You pull yourself back up and step out of the house and back into the rain.

You walk up to the edge of the building, your blood freezing at the sound of a vehicle's tires against the wet pavement. You fall back, slamming against the wall in a panic to hide.

"There's a truck." Johnny says over the comm.

"Two men." He whispers moments later. You slide around the corner just enough to faintly see the men. Their voices clear as day.

"Any sign of 'em?" One of them asked, looking around.

You hide again, trying to calm your racing heartbeat and force your breathing down.

"Not yet. Check everywhere, assume they're alive and dangerous..." A second soldier replies.

"Let's hope not. That's a shitstorm we don't need." Comes the voice of the first.

"They were ordered to stand down and they didn't."

"I don't like where this is goin', man... It's not right. These are 141 guys..."

"They don't write their own rules..."

"Do we...? Who the fuck is in charge here?"

"Whoever signs our fuckin' checks, that's who." The first soldier replies again before going quiet.

You shudder out a breath, feeling your knee start to ache again. You move across the street and hide in the shadow of one of the buildings. The rain conceals your sublet movements.

"Graves is here." Johnny's voice comes. "Looks pissed. He's on my side but keep it low."

You slip into another house, stomach flipping at the sight of a woman pushed off her chair with a bullet in her head.

"Copy that." You mutter as you continue.

You searche the cupboards and stairs. More ammunition but no sign of a gun. With any luck you could take out a Shadow and steal his.

You look up at the sound of a far gunshot, sidearm at the ready.

"Graves and Shadow are on a killing spree."

You shudder. You could only imagine. You hear footsteps outside the home and voices. You duck under one of the windows and flick the blinds up just enough with your finger to see the same two Shadow soldiers passing by.

"Looking for Hassan." Ghost replies to Johnny.

"Hassan and us." You mutter. You reach for the door handle and gently open the front door. The two soldiers were still talking even as you approached their backsides.

Your heart pounds, fear drawing up through your chest and locking in your movements. You grab one man, your hand clasping over his mouth. The second soldier turning just as you shoot his partner through the back.

Before he could shoot you throw his dead partner's weight his way and shoot him in the face.

You get down in the rain, bare knees stinging on the tarmac. You rip open their vests, happy to find a much better gun at his hip and a stim in his vest.

"Fucking hell..."

"Keep in there Johnny. Just keep moving." You say, hands shaky as you use the stim.

"Advise both of you move interior if you're not already. It's good cover." Ghost says.

You stand from the shadows and work your way back over to their abandoned vehicle for cover. Over the hood of the car you can see Johnny slipping inside an open garage.

"Any luck?" You ask.

"No joy... Door's locked."

"Shit. New plan?" You slip over the hood of the car and give Johnny a thumbs up.

"Look for supplies- things you can make tools with. Welcome to guerrilla warfare..."

"I'm not liking it so far."

"You aren't supposed to."

"Thanks, lieutenant." You grumble. You turn to go around the opposite way Johnny went when you hear him shudder.

"Creepin'..."

"What are you seein'?" You ask, wondering if it was safe to move.

"A bloodbath." Johnny replies.

"Watch your arse.. You got exactly zero allies down there..."

"Cobra, get a move on. I have a feeling those Shadows around to come around again. Stick with Soap for the time being."

You slip around the hood of the truck. You run to where you'd seen Johnny and your eyes land on the sight before you, stomach churning again. Johnny is untangling a rope away from a man's feet who is already long deceased.

Johnny looks up when he sees you at six. "We're friends, no..?" You nod and come around to his side to inspect his work.

You start to look around the laundry room, looking for anything you were missing.

"Teammates Johnny. Friendships not in the field manual."

"Neither is mask making." You grin, finding an old ceiling fan and breaking off one of the blades.

Johnny couldn't help a small chuckle at your reply. He comes over to you with the rope and nods.

"Rope and a fan blade. Could work as a weapon??"

"I don't think so. Might gash someone's throat but in no way could do any other kind of damage."

You shrug. He was right.

"Tie off the blade with the rope and pry open the door." Ghost instructed.

"Sounds like you've done this before..." You hold on to the fan blade and follow Johnny back toward the garage.

"Years of practice..."

"Maybe when we get out of here you could actually teach us this stuff, no?"

"If you live that long."

"You think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks, starting to pry open the garage door.

"No." Ghost replies.

"As comforting as always lieutenant."

Johnny cracks the door open, the fan blade twists and bends, snapping once the door opens and the hinges of the lock crack.

"Busted the fan blade..." He mutters.

"Get you through the door?"

"Affirmative."

Johnny inspects the hallway and slowly moves in. You stay until he makes it inside and eventually, he motions you forward. And the two of you enter.

Johnny takes the lead ahead of you. You can't help but look at a few paintings down the hallway of a family. When you enter the living room you can hear loud voices.

Johnny arches to a stop, causing you to pause as well.

You can hear Graves yelling in the kitchen. Several Shadow men stalk around the area.

Johnny retreats from the living room and brings you back into the hallway. "We have to do something-" Johnny covers your mouth with his hand and stays in place.

You both listen to the shouting. You try to block it out. Your heart pounds away, fear making your shoulders up through your throat ice cold.

"Mama! ¡Mama! ¡Mama...!"

"Si tocas a mi familia, I will feed you to the fucking leonas! ¡Me escuchas!"

Your hand shoots up and grabs onto Johnny's bicep when you hear the gunshots. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try to keep focused.

Johnny looks as scared as you. His bottom lip trembles violently. The Shadows leave and move to another house to raid.

"Don't hurt my children... I'm begging you... Please..." A woman begs. In the distance, you can hear more yelling and gunshots.

A tear runs down your cheek. You dig into Johnny's skin, wanting to cry and scream. If Graves did anything, you'd kill him. Right here, right now.

Johnny looks into your eyes as a deafening silence continues. A moment of what felt like hours passes.

"Take the kid, get him out of here." Graves finally answers.

It relaxes you only slightly as the voices keep up. But you can't muster to listen anymore. No amount of training could rid you of the empathy that stung you on your job every day.

Johnny slowly pulls his hand away, his breath husky. "Come on." He whispers. You nod slowly and follow him toward the kitchen. You manage to sneak past the Shadows and up the stairs.

The smell of smoke hits you, but you dare not look, knowing what you'll find

Once in the hallway, You're able to relax scarcely. You step through the hallway after Johnny.

"God, this is awful." You shudder.

"Come on. Just gotta keep moving." Johnny replies.

"Lt. You good?"

"Peachy. How are you two coming along?"

Johnny bends down and picks up a headlamp off the floor. "Found a headlamp. Not too far from the previous owner either."

"Good. It can light your way but you risk attracting attention."

Johnny steps back into the hallway and motions you to the left while he checks the last room. You walk inside, blood stains on the carpet and chaos in the wake of Shadow men.

You shudder but continue searching the room. At this point, the aching in your body is the least of your concerns.

"Just keep moving..." You remind yourself under your breath.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Think we'll get the green light to go after these guys?" Johnny says. You can hear him rummaging around in the other room.

"No more greenlights. We're on our own."

You frown. "What about Captain Price?"

"Price isn't here, is he...? The old man can't bail us out. Not this time."

Your eyes turn despaired at one of the bodies. You don't reply, but Ghost continues to talk.

"Alejandro you can trust. But, he's in Graves' custody. If he's even alive... Laswell's close with Shepherd. Callin' her's a no-go until we learn more."

You find a few more things around the room and turn to go. "I trust the Captain - if he knew, he'd be here."

"Be careful who you trust, Sergeant. People you know can hurt you the most."

"Good advice Lt..."

"I want to be like you when I grow up."

You move back into the hallway and find Johnny also exiting back into the hallway.

"You want to be better than me, sergeant."

You couldn't help a tiny smile.

"Got our work cut out then."

"That you do..."

"Think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks.

"Probably not."

You ignore Ghost's pessimism and continue on.

Johnny nods to the last door. You slowly approach it and twist the handle. "Locked." Johnny holds up a lock-picking contraption. You move back behind him so he can bust the door open.

The lock cracks and the door is forced open.

You enter the room, stopping when you see the caged dog. He barks when he sees you, forcing a retreat.

"Fuck-"

Johnny grabs your hand and tugs you out of the room and around the corner. You can hear a Shadow soldier yelling downstairs, footsteps tromping up the stairs.

You watch the door as the Shadow walks into the room. He positions his gun and investigations the room thoroughly.

"It's the dog from the bedroom. I don't see anything. I'll stick around, just in case..."

You look at Johnny who motions you to stay.

You settle into the shadow of the upstairs. You focus on maintaining your breathing. You don't know how long you were there. Felt like a bloody long time before the Shadow soldiers decided to pack his ass up and leave.

"Did you see the caged dog?" Johnny manages to ask over the comms.

"Big geezer. If he barks, shoot him and repo quickly- Don't get compromised..." Ghost responds.

"You are stone cold, Simon."

You follow Johnny, shuddering when you pass the room with the dog.

"hey Cobra. What has two legs and bleeds?

You walk back into the hallway and one of the rooms, finding a balcony.

"Don't tell me."

"Half a dog."

"I asked you not to tell me."

Johnny approaches the balcony and sees the streets below are clear. "Think you can jump with those legs?"

"Honestly no."

Johnny nods. "I'll do my best to catch you then."

You look down over the ledge as Johnny hops up and tumbles down to the ground. You can see two Shadow men at the end of the roadway Johnny is in.

The fall was well-timed and he manages to get back up from it. He looks down the road and then up at you. He reaches his arms out, his injured one shaking more than the other.

You take a deep breath. You force your slightly less battered leg up onto the ledge. Your hands grip it tightly, fear scouring through your body.

You know Johnny is going to do his best to catch you. Even if the odds of that aren't in your favor.

You let go of the ledge and drop to the ground. Johnny grabs your underarms just before your legs wack against the ground. You have to bite your tongue to halt the slu of profanities that passes your mind.

"Sorry- that wasn't my plan." Johnny winces.

Your eyes swell with tears. "I'm fine." You wheeze.

He helps you regain your balance, but you're within seconds of collapsing. "Are we almost there?"

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost's voice crackles back over the comms.

"Outside... Gated alley." Johnny checks on you once last time before reaching for his gun.

"Stick to the edges and stay low."

"Copy."

You follow Johnny to the corner, wincing when your leg bends and you stumble into the wall.

"You ok?"

You nod to Johnny and urge him forward.

"What exactly do we get from this?" You wheeze again.

"You may get a brag rag for this..." Ghost replies monotonously.

"A medal?"

"Chest candy." He restates.

You scoff. "Dead Shadows are my medals."

Johnny reaches the back of the road just as the two Shadows walk off.

"Split up?"

Johnny shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you battered. You can barely walk."

"You doubt my abilities."

"I doubt your legs." He holds out his hand. "Stick with me, we get out alive. We find Ghost. Together."

You grabbed his hand and he led you forward. "Together."

"Church is on the north side of the city. I've set up a sniper position in the church tower. Find your way there, and you might just make it."

"We're on it Lt."

Johnny moves forward into the open yard. He stops by the wall of a building. You can see another group of Shadows.

"Fucking hell." You mutter.

"Graves is rounding up cops."

Johnny reaches out his arm to hold you back. Graves comes out of one of the houses, and you both watch the scene before you. You watch the Shadows murder one civilian after the other. Firing gunshot after gunshot.

"He's judge, jury, and executioner now."

Your hands quiver and pulse across your gun.

You look down and find a bottle in the street. "Johnny." You whisper and hold it up for him to see.

"A bottle. Good for a distraction. Could prove useful."

You continue to search around for a moment until Johnny hums. "Got it."

"Commandeered some wax, LT."

"Could prove useful..." Ghost reiterates.

You make eye contact again and you nod. You were ready.

Johnny looks and motions toward the water fountain in the middle of the street.

You slip out from the corner. You can't help but try and rush when you hear Graves yelling, followed by another gunshot.

And another.

You skid to a stop at the fountain and duck down behind it. You clutch your gun tightly and motion Johnny over. He comes around the corner and rushes across the open street.

He ducks down next to you and looks around. Two soldiers were standing by the perimeter of the street.

You try to still your breathing and keep Johnny from moving forward when you hear them talking.

"I got too much respect for these guys to go to guns unless they do." The first one says, his back turned toward you two.

"I bet we'd come out on top of that fight." The second one snarks.

"I don't wanna test my skills against 141."

"What are you thinkin'?"

"We should white flag this thing and talk or everyone's gonna end up dead."

"You gettin' scared, dude?"

" I'm not fuckin' scared, bro. I'm not stupid either. Any movement over there? It's quiet here... Narcos got outta Dodge. It's not them I'm worried about anyway..."

"I thought you said you're not scared."

"I'm worried, worried is different than scared..."

Johnny taps your arm and motions to a nearby crate. "Stay here."

You nod and continue to hold your position as he sneaks out just enough to reach the box.

"Same fuckin' thing..." The second Shadow replies when you turn your attention back on the conversation.

"No, it's not, it's not the same thing at all..."

"I'm telling you right now, don't let these guys get in your head..."

"So, you're tellin' me you see that big boy with the skullface, and you're not gonna start sweatin'?" The first Shadow sasses.

"I'm not gonna see him--"

"You're right, you won't see him. It's too late if you see him, you're fuckin' dead already."

You chuckle. "I think they're scared of you, Ghost." You whisper into your comm.

The radio crackles, but Ghost doesn't reply.

Johnny returns to your position and smiles. "Found a mouse trap."

"And this is good news because..?"

"Surpisingly useful as a trigger."

You look from the mousetrap to the bottle and start to catch on to his plan.

"It's no airstrike, but it'll do." He smirks.

"You both are doing good. Just keep moving. The longer you sit there the more chances you have of being killed."

You looked at Johnny. "Copy that Lt." You huff.

You looked into Johnny's eyes, and he can tell you are starting to give out. Your energy is fading, and you kind of liked the sound of staying there.

Johnny takes your hand and clutches it tightly. "Stay with me, soldier. Come on. Only a little longer and we can rest."

"Johnny I'm tired."

"I know, I'm going to get us out of here-" Johnny presses down on his comm. "Ghost, Cobra is fading, we need your oversight."

"I've got you Johnny. You're clear."

"Y/n."

Your ears ring when he says your name. You groan, trying to keep quiet.

"Y/n, you need to keep walking. Just keep walking, I'll get you both out of here, can you do that for me?"

Tears filled your eyes. "Yes sir."

"Good. I've got your backs, Johnny, use what you've found to conjure a distraction."

"I'm already on it Lt."

Johnny readjusts the bottle and throws it at the Shadows blocking your path. You scuff your boots and shove them under you to swing upward.

The Shadows look up, rushing to check the sound of the bottle smashing against the brick wall.

Johnny pulls your arms, and you both sneak down the overshadowed alleyway.

Your vision swims and goes fuzzy again. Your hand unclasps from Johnny's, and his silhouette fades into the darkness. You slump back to your knees, resting against the side of the building.

"Lieutenant..." Your thumb quivers, unable to keep the comm open to talk.

"I'm right here sergeant. You'll be ok, keep moving. I know you can do it."

"Tired..."

"Where is Johnny?"

You look up. You try to clear your head. Your insides swim with bile, and it makes the hooks of your jaw fuzzy. Your throat forces down saliva you don't want to swallow.

The shadows move, and there is Johnny. He rushes back over to you and crouches. "We've gotta go come on."

You grab onto him, unsure of where your feet are going, but you stand during the process.

Johnny guides you. His eyes soften again, and he slows down so you can slouch against him to take away some of the pain from your ankles.

"We're so close." He says.

You shake your head of the dizzy feeling and muster yourself up.

Johnny brings you to the end of the street and lays you up against the wall. You draw your gun into your lap and watch Johnny hunt the street for material.

"Found some chemicals." He says into his comm.

"Tie them up with some wax and you got a smoke bomb. A toxic distraction."

"Sick... I like it."

"Guarantee you they won't..."

"How is Cobra doing?" Ghost asks a minute later.

"Solid. Hanging on."

Johnny finds a roll of tape just a bit further from the chemicals. "I can use that later." You watch Johnny as he starts to make an explosive contraption.

You rise to your feet. Your knees shake but you manage to keep yourself up. You come to Johnny's back and could see he was making a bomb of sorts.

Eventually, he tucks it into his bag. He motions across the street and you follow him into another house. When entering you see a Shadow slammed up against the wall of the room, dead.

"Woah."

Johnny comes over and examines the knife stuck in his throat. "Looks like Ghost's handiwork." You mutter. "Missing a knife Lt?"

"Several."

"Think we found one."

"Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork..."

"You came through here?" You ask.

"On my way to the church."

"And you left us?" You frown.

"I'm used to working alone."

"So much for no man left behind." Johnny grumbles.

You pull the knife from the Shadows' throat and clean the blood on your vest pocket. You can probably use it for something. Might as well return them to him.

"Just get yourself to the church. Tryin' to keep you alive and get you here in one piece. One of us needs to survive to tell the tale."

"It'll probably be you." You reply.

Johnny motions you forward and the two of you search the house. Everything is in shambles, barely put together, and a mess in every sense.

Johnny moves into the living room and chuckles. "Seek and ye shall find..."

"Whatcha got?" You perk up curiously and walk over to him where he was currently strapping a briefcase to his person.

"Black powder..."

"Nice. This could get interesting..."

Johnny nods and the two of you set off. Johnny moves up the stairway while you search the kitchen. Under the cupboard there are a few chemicals you see fit to take with you.

"So..." You open your comm.

"What if we don't get out?"

Ghost hums. "If you mean all three of us die. We die. Price has to learn of this himself, three of his best soldiers dead and barely a task force left. You know. No pressure or anything."

"And what if you get out alive?"

"Then I'm going for safety, regrouping with Price. Then I'm finding Alejandro and Graves."

"Good plan."

"If you want to be in on it you might want to keep moving sergeant."

"Copy that Lt."

Johnny tromps back down the stairs and shakes his head. Nothing much.

"Lt, about to play rough with the Shadows..." You slip toward the back door, hands shaking and rough.

"I like the sound 'o that." Ghost replies.

"Fashioned a trip mine..." Johnny adds.

"A man after my own heart..."

"That's a scary thought." You mutter.

"You learn fast, Y/n."

You slip the back door open and find a lone Shadow standing guard. From your vest pocket, you pull out Ghost's knife and grip it in your hand.

Johnny nods, and you slip forward. You buckle your hand over the Shadow's mouth and drive the knife up into his back. His body strangles and freezes before going limp and falling to the ground.

"That knife came in handy."

"You're welcome."

"I ain't thanking you lieutenant." You chuckle and slip the blade back into your vest.

You search the Shadow's vest and are lucky enough to find a pistol. "Found a gun."

"Good work. Moving up in the world. Choose your shots and targets wisely. Guns make noise."

"Copy Lt."

Johnny stares down at the dead Shadow a moment longer. You hear a noise down the road and your eyes shoot up as another Shadow walks your way.

"Fuck, come on MacTavish." You grab his hand and pull him out of the street and around the corner. You make ten paces before you're stopping again, faced with another group of conversing Shadows.

"I wanna find those English motherfuckers. That asshole with the mask and the other leprechaun." The first one says.

"Leprechaun's-they're Irish, I told you that." The second one responds.

"Right. One o' those dudes with the skirts."

"It's called a kilt."

"It's a dude in a dress, that's all I know..."

"Uh huh. What about the third one? Smart ass little sergeant got away."

"They're 141, what do you expect? Wimps?"

"Just want to get my hands on that one. Slimy as a frog. An agile thing."

Johnny scoffs. He prepares his bomb from behind you and doesn't waste his time throwing it in their direction. "Lot o' slime." He mutters.

The smoke bomb hits the ground and alerts the Shadows. Before you know it Johnny is taking off toward one of the alleys.

"Fuck-"

Gunfire rains down on you, forcing you from your position. The gunfire strays you out into the street and down a separate roadway. You slam yourself around the corner and down against the wall. You clench your teeth, fresh blood trickling down your arm.

Your left hand is shaking violently, unable to hold your weapons.

You slouch against the wall, breathing ragged and body gushing blood.

"Cobra!? What's your position!" Johnny finally asks worriedly through the comms. You huff, raising your hand to respond. "Solid... But hit."

"Shit. My bad." Johnny apologizes.

"All good." You reply.

You slowly stand, pressing your weight into the wall until you manage to recover yourself.

"Feeling weak, are you?"

"bit shaky, sir, yeah." You roll your neck, pain shooting up your spine.

"Graves tried to kill us. Would stand to reason if you were a little off. Find a stim- It'll give you a boost"

"I just want out of this alive."

"We'll get you out alive then."

"So you do like me?"

"I like you both alive."

"Fair enough."

You traverse through the roadway and sidetrack into a garage linked to a building.

"Found a stim." Johnny says over comm.

"Use it. I'm out of luck." You push your way through the door, hissing at the use of your hurt arm.

"Elbow is going numb."

"Find a stim."

"I'm trying to find anything I can." You reply.

Johnny and Ghost maintain contact while you slip through the house and scavenge for anything you can take to keep the Shadows off you.

You find only one speckle of useful items like chemicals, which are more useful in Johnny's hands.

"Y/n.. Graves is burning the midnight oil to find us... Why...?" Ghost asks.

You frown. "He's involved. Both Sheppard and Graves are involved."

"No matter what- this is an unprecedented amount of fuckery. We need to get to the bottom of it." Johnny adds.

"Accurate and deadly fire tends to resolve these things. Right now, we're not safe here."

"Right now... we're not safe anywhere, Lt." You break into another room, combing through as you go. You sneak out the backdoor and find yourself faced with Shadow soldiers.

You manage to slip past as they talk and into the next house.

You find a small storage room and your heart sinks when you find a civilian laying dead next to a toolkit. "Son of the damn devil." You whisper.

You walk through the rest of the house. Chairs and dreary wallpaper, everything a normal family would need.

You jump when you hear banging thunder against one of the doors. You grab your knife as you approach the door and swing it open.

But just as you do, the wounded civilian on the other side falls to his knees. His eyes look up at you in pain and fear before he's gone.

You swallow the sick feeling in your mouth and step over him and press forward.

"I'm in the coffee shop." You sit rep.

"Get us a tea."

You roll your eyes. "Fuckin' Brits. You'll owe me for this you know?"

"Why?"

"We're all fixing each other's problems."

"And what's my problem?"

"The mask," You whine.

"Take it off." Johnny joins, making you smile.

"Show my face?"

"Yes, sir. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

"Negative."

You pout. Finally, you find a stim case on the counter, along with some other trinkets. You jab it into your arm and feel slight relief from the adrenaline.

There's a briefcase sitting on the table. You open it only to find more explosives and an aiming sight. Not much use to you.

You grab the briefcase and hang on to it, just in case Johnny can use it.

"Are you ugly?" Johnny continues.

"Quite the opposite." Ghost replies.

"I doubt that."

Johnny chuckles, and Ghost disappears from the comms. You switch your channel to just Johnny, "I think we bullied him."

"Aw, poor Lt."

You search behind the shop counter. "He does owe us when we get back, though."

"That's for fucking sure. This would go a lot smoother if we were all together."

You push another door open, looking around and finding nothing.

"You know, maybe a vacation could do us good??"

"Vacation? The hell are you on about."

"The Bahamas are sounding really nice right about now."

"Ghost is allergic to the sun."

You chuckle. You hear the door of the coffee shop open. You're at the ready, slipping back out of the room, only to see Johnny.

"Scared me for a minute."

"Figured out where the coffee shop was."

You hold out the briefcase and smile. "Figured you could use this." You look down and see the gun in his hand. "And where did you find that?"

"Tripwire. House just down the road."

Johnny takes the case of explosives and secures the sight onto his gun.

"Have you checked everything?"

"No, just the first door."

You both head for the office door, to no surprise it's locked.

Johnny hums and pulls out a couple of tools from his belt. "Give this a try."

You take a step back as he slots the tool in the door and force it open.

"Nice skills there Soap."

He winks and allows you in first. A couple filing cabinets, a desk, and a safe. You approach the safe. "Is there a code around here??"

Johnny inspects the room, looking under papers and books. His attention soon turned to the calendar up on the wall. With a suspicious number of dates circled. "That looks interesting."

"Give it a go?"

Johnny nods, so you punch in the numbers, your eyes widening when it works. "On the money."

You open the safe and search inside. Throwing knives, money...

"Oh ho ho."

Johnny raises a brow. "What??"

"Hand held .50 cal...? You're coming with me..."

Johnny gapes. "What!? No way, I want that one."

You frown. "No way, you have the big guy." You motion briefly to the Lockwood in his hands. "This one, is mine."

Johnny sputters but ultimately huffs and shuts up.

You switch your radio to the clear channel again. "Ghost."

"Y/n..."

"Guess what I found?"

"More stopping power?"

"Check."

Johnny huffs, making his way back out of the room and you follow close behind.

"Your life expectancy just went way up."

"Thank you!"

"Not yet sergeant. It's still your job to keep you alive."

"Thanks Lt. Really helping us out here."

Johnny approaches the window to take a look outside. "Uh oh, looks like we're gonna have company."

You look up, seeing the Shadows advancing outside. "What do we do?"

"We can fight?"

"Took risky." You reply.

"That's three less Shadows on our tail."

You chew your lip, trying to make a decision.

"You two, check out that warehouse." The Shadow says.

Johnny grabs your arm and pulls you down next to him. "Guess we're fighting it out." You clock your gun.

"Let's get it over and done with."

"You make it sound like we're doing chores." You retort.

"They've got no guns, he won't get far." A second Shadow says, much closer than before.

"They're 141... Still dangerous. Go left, I'll clear the alley."

"Roger, on it."

Johnny sneaks around the edge of the bar, motioning you to follow him. You crawl quickly on your hands and knees, barely out of sight before the door to the shop opens.

Boots crackle wetly along the tile ground. You steady your breath as the Shadow enters, followed by another.

"Ya here? Not too late to surrender..." The Shadow calls out.

You look at Johnny who is readying himself.

Your comm crackles and you freeze.

"Sergeant, how are we doing?" Ghost asks.

Your eyes widen.

The Shadows snap and round the corner, ammo loaded.

You roll to your feet and slam the closest one to you against the wall, the barrel of your gun against his jaw and soon a bullet in his brain. Johnny tussles with the other one before managing to overpower him and stabbing him in the throat.

You both run for the backdoor and run out into the street. Johnny slips down the alleyway toward the third Shadow and slices him clean through the back with his knife.

"Come on."

You break for it down the alley and across the street.

"Come on. A bit further."

You huff. You pant. Your legs buckle and you slam down to the ground.

Blood leaks from your wounds and washes away in the street. Your breathing is heavy and you're feeling dizzy again. And a sick lightheaded feeling bounces around in the confines of your skull.

"Come on sergeant. We're almost there."

You shake your head. "I can't. Tired."

Johnny bends down and pulls you up into his arms. You're eyes focus on him briefly before he's just another blur out of reach.

His cold hand cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. "Come on. Come on you're doing So good. I know you can keep moving. I know you can!"

You press your hand to your stomach, feeling bile rise in your chest. Johnny's eyes fade in and out, his figure blending with the shadows.

"Ghost. Cobra isn't doing well."

You huff and heave. Your eyes swell with tears.

Johnny can see it coming and he slowly moves you out of his arms and down to the ground.

Your vision fades in and out.

"What's the sergeants condition?" Ghost asks.

Johnny smooths his hands over your arms. He checks your vest for any kind of medical supplies. Worry bubbling when he finds nothing to bandage you with. "Not good. I'm not sure what's going on-"

"Alright Johnny. Flip y/n over, get the sergeant on their hands and knees."

"No-!" You wheezed. "Hurt."

Johnny scavenges his person for medical supplies, finding nothing.

"Shit. Y/n, come here. I've got you."

You dry heave, your chest flares up, and your cheeks flush.

Johnny helps to flip you over and rubs your back. "It's ok. You're doing well keeping up."

You feel bile rise in your throat. The burn follows before bile forces it's way out from your stomach. Your insides churning and twisting.

Bile spills into the street and burns your dry, sore throat. Blood spills into the mess and slips into one of the storm drains.

When your stomach finally settles enough to suck in air.

Your shaking arms fold in, giving Johnny barely a second to pull you back into the safety of his arms. The rain is starting to get to you. Plastering your shirt to your skin and your hair damp against your forehead.

"Lt. We need to get going." Johnny comms. Much more concerned than before.

You curl into his cold embrace. Tired and sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body.

"Johnny... town's full o' tunnels. One leads out across from the church. Be advised- the tunnel is flooded. Prepare for a cold swim."

Johnny winces as he pulls you up to your feet. Your head hangs, fighting for consciousness as he pulls you onto his shoulder.

"Hang on Y/n, I'm getting us home."

"Home..."

"Yeah. We're going home. It'll be warm. You can curl up in a blanket and relax. You just gotta hang on alright?"

"Can't wait."

"I know. But try."

"Still upright?" Ghost asks after a minute of walking.

"So far, so good. Can't say the same for Y/n though."

"You get caught out there, they'll kill you slow..."

"Mercs or the Narcos?"

"Narcos... They'll take videos..."

"I'll give 'em your email so they know where to send them..." Johnny opens another house door and slips inside.

"I won't watch 'em... More than once anyway..."

"Sick bastard..."

Johnny places you down by the stairs and cups your cheek. "How are we doing?"

Blood still drips from your mouth, and it's starting to trickle from your nose as well. All you can manage is a weak smile.

Johnny leaves you there while he searches the place. He searches the kitchen, the living room, and the garage. You're left unaided in silence.

"You still standing, Y/n?"

"Think I'm clear..." You can barely reply.

"Soap- you makin' progress?"

Johnny hums from the other room. "Aye. Gettin' there..."

You watch the blood trickling down your arm. Your vision briefly blurs again, but you blink it away.

"Hey sergeant." Your comm. Crackles again.

"Two goldfish are in a tank...?"

You shift gently, still holding your angry stomach. "Go on..."

Ghost replies immediately. "One turns to the other and says... "You know how to drive this thing?" Little army humor."

"Very little." You reply. But you can hear in his voice he's trying to hold back a chuckle. It's a comforting thought to think that wherever Ghost is, he's smiling.

Johnny gives you a nod when he comes back from the living room and walks up the stairs to check the second floor.

"Another?"

You clasp and unclasp your cold fingers. "Why not..."

"Why don't blind guys skydive?"

"Tell me."

"Scares the shit out o' their dogs..."

You crack a small smile.

"We could do this all night."

"That's what I'm afraid of." You respond.

Johnny comes back down the stairs and showed you the new weapon on his hip. "Found a safe upstairs. Had some snazzy stuff inside."

You attempt to stand with him but your body doesnt make it far.

Johnny quickly comes to your side and helps you up. "Don't worry. I'll keep us moving. Think you can hop on my back?"

You nod and stand against the wall as Johnny bends over. It's an uncomfortable fit against the protective vest, but it's better than being hauled over his shoulder.

He left through the front door and walked back out into the rain.

"Hey Ghost..." You croak.

"What is it, sergeant?" Ghost's voice seems a slight bit softer. Maybe it's the delirium or the rain, but he sounds comforting.

"I gotta joke for you..."

"Let's hear it then."

You close your eyes, your breathing slowing. Johnny looks back over his shoulder at you and pats your thigh.

"Why don't shrimps share?"

"Why?"

"Because they're a little shellfish."

"Not bad." Ghost replies. Even Johnny manages to crack a smile.

Johnny stops under a small overhang and opens the door. Warm light welcomes you inside the scuffed up bar.

"Lt- I'm at the bar."

"You like tequila?"

"Could use one right about now," Johnny replies, looking around for things.

"I'd murder for a whiskey."

"You mean Scotch?"

"I drink bourbon."

"Like a good ol' boy..."

Ghost sighs. "I love Kentucky."

"You're out o' your mind, Lt."

"That's for sure."

Johnny pats your thigh. "Hang in there sergeant." You cling to him as best you can, relying on their voices. Both their voices help you focus on the task ahead of you.

Johnny pushes outside of the bar and finds his way to the tunnels.

"Lt. I've got a problem."

"What's your situation, Johnny?"

"Reached the tunnel. Not sure how I'm gonna get y/n through with me." Johnny helps you off his back and sets you down.

"How are you feeling Y/n?"

You hold onto his hand. "Can't quite feel my legs."

"Ghost, is there any other way?"

"I'm afraid not. If you've got any more stims get the sergeant boosted."

Johnny holds your hand and motions to the tunnel. "We've gotta go for a swim."

"I don't think I can-"

"I'm not leaving you out here. We're so close. I just need you to push through just one last time. Can you do this, for us?"

You swallow hard. "I'll try."

"Good. Come on."

Johnny grabs your hand and helps you up. Your feet are numb, but it at least rids off the pain in your legs.

You hold Johnny's hands tightly as you enter the tunnel. You gasp as you walk into the water, eventually unable to touch the ground. The cold water washes up your waist and over your shoulder blades. It laps at your wounds and soothes them slightly. Johnny looks back at you to check if you're ok, and you nod.

You move your arms despite the pain in your left arm and swim slowly through the tunnel.

"You're doing good." Johnny praises over breaths of his own exhaustion.

"Ghost."

"Johnny."

"We're working through the tunnel."

"The church plaza is on the other end of the tunnel. Push through, you're nearly here."

The reassurance of safety fuels your need to keep going. You fight and push through the cold water. Your fingers start freezing up, and your legs can barely move. You grab onto the hook of Johnny's tactical gear just so you can keep up.

Johnny slows along the water line when he spots a group of Shadows on patrol. "Alright, we're gonna take this slow." You nod and follow Johnny toward the water line.

"Where the hell are they?!" The first Shadow grumbles.

"Maybe, all three of them are dead?" The second asks.

"Graves wants proof."

"Just cut the mask off." The second one says.

"Do I get a bonus for that...?"

"Not if I beat you to it."

Johnny slips up the side of the watered tunnel. You follow and try not to disturb the water as you go.

"I'll kill the Irish one." The first Shadow growls.

"The kid's Scottish, not Irish." The second one sighs.

"It's the same fuckin' thing...!"

Johnny stops along the wall and reaches for his knife.

"Ghost, I got Shadows wearing body armor."

"You'll have to get in close and find the gaps."

"Rog."

Johnny grips his knife and looks at you. You fiddle with your knife and follow him. "I'll take left." He whispers. You nod and turn to the Shadow on the right.

"Again, what about the other one? Graves isn't to happy the other sergeant jumped from the truck." The first one readjusts his gun.

"Kill them. What else? I highly doubt they made it far after that fall."

You look over at Johnny, who slips out of the shadows. He nods to you, and you rush the Shadows'. You grab the Shadow's shoulder and slot your knife in the break of armor by his neck. You dig the blade into the crook of his neck and slice open the skin.

Blood spurts out across your hand and uniform. His body falls back into yours. You lean into the action and throw him back into the flooded tunnel.

Your vision blurs again, but you shake it off quickly.

"Good job." Johnny says.

You both head for the end of the tunnel and your heart swells. "Johnny... The church!" Johnny smiles in relief.

"Ghost. We've got eyes on the church."

"Good. You're on the right track. Keep comin'.

Johnny motions you forward and runs out of the tunnel and out into the street.

The rain has let up, but not by much. It's easier to see your surroundings now. You both run until you are cut off by a blockade of vehicles lining the street. "Shit." Johnny curses. "Lt. We're blocked off."

"Try and cut through the shops."

Johnny looks from left to right.

You look around with him, finding an alleyway next to the shops. "There." You point.

Johnny looks to where you're pointing and smiles. "Good eyes. Come on, let's go."

Johnny rushes toward the alleyway. You stumbled after him. You swallow down your ragged breath, your will to survive momentarily pushing out the pain still searing through your body.

You shivered in the cold, completely drenched.

Your breath evaporates out from your lungs, and into the air. You push through, the fear of Johnny's back getting smaller, and his silhouette being swallowed up by the night keeping you going.

Johnny ducks into the alleyway. "Think we found a way through Lt."

"Shadows are everywhere. I'll hold 'em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil."

"Roger that."

"Give 'em hell, Johnny- We're almost there. Keep on your feet Y/n, you're doing good."

"Yes sir." You rasp.

Johnny turns back to you and cups your hand in his. You lean against the wall and close your eyes. You can hear Johnny struggling with the door to get inside.

Your breathing slows and the lightheaded feeling returns.

The door opens and Johnny gasps. "Fuck-!"

You open your eyes just as Johnny receives the butt end of a Shadow's gun and is thrown to the ground. You reach for your knife too late, and the Shadow hits you in the back of the knees and sends you down to the ground.

The side of your head hits the ground, and blood rushes through your ears. Your vision goes fuzzy, and everything blurs and spins. Johnny fades in and out beside you, and the swirl of colors that is Johnny shifts.

"What the... GET DOWN-! All Shadow stations, Got two near the church-!" The Shadow soldier yells.

Ringing vibrates around your head. The blood dripping from your nose onto the road is the only thing you can listen to.

Time seems to freeze an eternity before you hear the Shadow's comm. crackle.

Graves' voice was loud and clear. His voice is cold as ice against your body.

"Kill them."

Bang!

A gunshot rings through the air, and the Shadow above you suddenly falls limply to the ground. Across the barbwire fence of the church rush more Shadow troops, those of which are taken down by a bigger silhouette.

Johnny sits up and shoves the Shadow away with his foot.

"Holy hell... Ghost- was that you?"

"Who else...? Now go..."

Johnny gets up and grabbed

your arms. "Come on y/n, let's go."

Your vision spins, your stomach flipping and spiraling. Your head lolls as Johnny pulls on you, a bullet whistling past your head as he pulls you inside.

Johnny slams the door shut and cups your cheek. "Oh my- you're bleeding so much. Fucking hell."

You try to focus your eyes on Johnny. Your hand comes up to the side of your head, feeling sticky warmth against your temple. You pull your fingers away and red stains your fingertips.

"Ghost. Leaking blood. Badly. What are our options??" Johnny leans you against the wall and checks for anything he could use to stop the blood.

"Johnny, got company in the church, and they're not here for forgiveness...! Get to the steps, I'll be there..."

Johnny curses. "Get on my back!"

"Soap..."

"Get on my back!"

You grab onto his shoulders, and he pulls you up onto his back.

Johnny cocks his gun and opens the shop door.

Gunfire rains across the area, whizzing by your bodies. "Give me a bloody break." He heaves you further up into his arms and makes a break for it across the yard.

Shadow soldiers converge on the church. Johnny smiles when he reaches the entrance of the church.

"Ghost!"

"Johnny!"

Ghost shoots two approaching Shadows and climbs up and over the gate of the church.

Ghost comes into your field of view, his gloved hand cups your injured head. "How are we hanging in soldier?"

"Not good. They're barely hanging on." Johnny replies for you. Ghost nods. "Come on, I'll take them." Johnny stands up and you slide easily into Ghost's arms. "Holding strong sergeant."

You cling to his back and hug him tightly. "Come on! Let's go."

"We need a vehicle, on me-! Stay sharp, they know we're here and they know it's us. They'll send more." Ghost's voice rumbles through his chest and warms your insides.

It's beyond relieving to see your lieutenant again. You aren't in the clear yet, but his presence brings safety.

More Shadows appear from the alleyway and charge your group.

"Contact-! Dead ahead!"

"I see 'em. Watch the alley!"

Johnny shoots the Shadows dead and continue their run through the streets.

"How are we doing Y/n?"

"Still alive..." You groan.

"Keep it that way! You're doing good!" He praises.

Johnny and Simon continue down the road. "Johnny, stay close. Heads up for a vehicle we can take."

Bullets whistle past you. The yelling of soldiers struggling to get their targets on the three of you overpowers your senses. Your vision slowly returns, and you're able to regrip Ghost's tactical vest.

"Soap, pick up truck ahead. lights on."

"I got it!" Johnny replies.

"I'll drive, Johnny- take shotgun."

Ghost stops at the backseat and flings the door open. "Hold steady soldier!" He releases you and lays you in the backseat."

"Now, Johnny, passenger side of the truck- mount up!"

Johnny jumps in.

"Alright, you two, you made it..."

You give a shaky thumbs-up, making Ghost chuckle.

"We made it Lt."

Bullets ping into the metal of the pickup truck as Shadows throw you three under heavy fire.

"Hold fast...!" Ghost puts the truck in reverse and runs over two Shadows firing at you.

"That's one way o' doin' it!"

Johnny spots a Shadow to the left of Ghost out the window just as you do.

"Get back!"

The Shadow drops dead to the ground, more soldiers falling into the street and firing at you.

"Thanks." Ghost says.

A bullet whistles through the back window, shattering the glass just above your head. "Shit-!" You gasp.

"Drive- I'll cover us!" Johnny yells.

Ghost slams on the pedal and drives the truck straight into the gate ahead. He takes off down the road and doesn't attempt to stop.

Johnny sits back in his seat and sighs. "Bloody hell..."

"You made it out..." Ghost says.

"I'm proud of both of you." He flips the rearview mirror down to see your face. "Just hang in a little longer partner. We're gonna get you patched up good as new.

"I feel like shit." You groan.

Your blood leaks out on the seat, and your wet clothes grow uncomfortable. Ghost eventually pulls over on the side of the road and gets out.

"We've got a bit of time if they've been following us." He opens the back seat and motions you forward.

"Bloody hell, Johnny wasn't kiddin', you did destroy your knees." Ghost ran his thumb over them and you tense.

"I'm sure Alejandro has something that can patch you up."

"Alejandro..?" You clench your teeth.

"Yeah, for now," Ghost pulls out some bandage wraps from his pouch. "Johnny hand me that tourniquet on your vest."

"My what-?" Johnny looks down and checks his vest surprised. "I didn't even- blind as bloody blind person..." He hands over the tourniquet.

Ghost pulls off your tactical gear and throws it on the other seat. You shiver, and his hand is there to comfort you.

"We'll be out of this soon."

He wraps both your knees and your head enough to get you through. "Arm." He instructs. You motion to your wounded arm and he wraps the tourniquet around it tightly.

"That'll keep you from bleeding all over the seats."

"Thank you lieutenant." You whisper. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Ghost bends down, and for a moment, his eyes soften and something is let out. A glimpse of love and concern. "You did amazing, sergeant."

He helps your legs back into the truck and closes the door. "Now, let's get somewhere safe."

"Got an idea, Lt?"

"I might. Yeah."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x y/n #ghost x y/n #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish x Reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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ineylesian · 1 year

Text

MY FRIEND IN MISERY

─ PHILLIP GRAVES X FEM! READER

AO3 | MASTERLIST | CODENAME: FANGS MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT | 7k+

SUMMARY | there are times when you draw the line, glorifying the cracks that sever right and wrong.

upon realization that you’d been trapped under ice, you had watched graves freeze over, hardening against the cruel world before him… until he cracked.

WARNINGS | smut, angst, brief descriptions of torture, finger fucking, unprotected p in v, slight oral asphyxiation, biting, hair pulling, switch! graves, semi clothed sex, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slightly shell shocked graves, blood kink (kinda), graves is a masochist

AUTHOR’S NOTE | AYYY i finally got around to writing for my babygirl graves,, we’re pushing along in the cobra series!! also, some parts of this are a lil sloppy, my bad, i’m tired.

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

AUGUST 13TH, 2020.

AL MAZRAH, SYRIA.

“SHEPHERD, we need to send in backup, now!”

“Negative, Shadow-2. You will use what. You. Have.”

Ragged breaths fought against faint waves of radio static, dying out with the start of a exasperated sigh. Your teeth grit furiously against one another at the sudden intrusion of Shepherd on your mens’ safety, digging one of your boots into the ground in a feeble attempt to contain your anger. He knew your entire squadron would die out there without help, and it was clear as the rising smoke in the ruins that he would make anyone else pay for his mistakes than himself.

It was good riddance and salvage, now. Avoid casualties, save the fortunate, and find Graves.

Your head turned at the rising sound of footsteps, sinking into the shallow channel at the sudden flash of light in your direction. Noisy sloshes rippled frigid water against your arms as two Russian soldiers approached, their proximity leading your hand to slide into the water, slowly pulling your pistol off of your waist.

A wave of murky water splashed against your face as you lunged forward, jabbing one solider in the knees with your elbow, swiftly putting a bullet in the other before his flashlight could piece your existence together. Screams of agony bubbled foam waves at the mercy of your knee, holding the less fortunate soldier under the surface while you unsheathed your knife. A messy slash reigned you safe, lifting yourself out of the water as droplets of muted red dripped off of your forearms.

“182, so you copy?”

Silence.

“Shadow-1, evac went dark.”

The soft buzz of grasshoppers answered your call, leading you to switch your comms off with a low string of curses. Fireflies danced along the wafting embers spreading to the arid valley around you, each spark followed by a distance chorus of explosions.

You shook your head, subconsciously raising a hand back to your shoulder before stepping off of the dead body beneath you, knees bending to tug at the zipper of the jacket.

“SC, this is Shadow-2 actual. Going dark.”

Cool water slithered over your chest as you lifted one of the Russian’s jackets over your own, feeling the soaked material sink into your skin. The helmet was next, followed by a pair of night vision goggles, and a scarcely damp ski mask pulled from one of the pockets. You bit back a cough at the scent filling your nostrils, traveling down to rest on the surface of your tongue, each breath leaving the faux residue of sand along your throat.

Each drag of your feet through the polar depths caused your teeth to dig further into the side flesh of your cheek, overpowering the taste of minced soil with blood with every numbing step. Upon reaching solid ground, your knees buckled, forcing you to grab onto a nearby column of debris, gloved fingers digging into the slight char to keep yourself standing. Stray winds of warmth flowed against the icy mass that consumed you, the first flush against your face so sickening you had no choice but to pull down your mask and retch.

Vile, warm, and filled to the brim with remorse on behalf of your dead soldiers.

You stood straight, wiping any signs of struggle off of your face. The last to go was your M16, American branding kicked deep into the mounds of sand below. Left with nothing but your own sopping facade, you stepped out into the main road, squinting down the stretch of rural ground. Not even a klick ahead sat a mass of hungry flames, igniting the winds billowing around you unsettlingly hot.

It was then that you felt the heat creeping along every dampened crevice of your — the Russian’s jacket, aggressive tendrils of changing temperature making your skin crawl. To make matters worse, you were approaching an entire field of aggravated hostiles. One mistake, and you would join the polluted sea of dead Shadows, marked up as one more KIA on Shepherd’s plate.

And just as much as you wanted him to suffer, you were not dying here. Not like this.

You were pulled from grasping thoughts of your general at the brief flicker of shells hitting a half crumbled wall not far off, followed by a ricochet of amused laughter. Dropping down, you cautiously approached the recoil pattern spread out across brick, sucking in a breath at the sound of footsteps just around the corner. The shuffles moved on, and you trailed, slipping a pistol from your waistline at the rise of a Russian voice.

Smiling, conceited teeth poking out from the faint dance of a cigar. The smoke wafted up in one last coil before plummeting down at the crude pluck of fingers, stopping to rest just below a quiet mass of black on the ground.

The cigarette fell gently to the ground beside him, resting trim against the bleeding hole in his collar. You pocketed your pistol, moving to stand above the two bodies and push the corpse to the side. Amidst the dust and blood, your eyes trailed to the embroidered patch on his shoulder. Shadow Company. Your mask was pulled down at the sight of widened eyes, shaking his shoulder lightly to ensure the dead’s gaze hadn’t mistaken you.

“Lieutenant..?”

He didn’t sound good, but bad was better alive. You swiftly nodded, pulling half a roll of gauze from your pocket.

“Listen, soldier.” Firm, yet coaxing words followed the tight pull of a bandage. “I need you to do something very important for me, can you do that?”

A curbed nod answered. Your radio was pulled from under the Russian’s jacket, placed in his slowly outstretching hand.

“You run, you don’t look back, and you get somewhere safe.” You waited for his nod, sighing once it was delivered. “When you’re safe, you flip to channel 11, get in contact with Task Force 141, and tell them we need a CASEVAC, ASAP.”

Anything would do at this point, but it didn’t hurt to be specific.

You pulled the solider up to his feet, sending him off with a harsh pat on the back and a reinforcing smile. Once he had disappeared from the outstretch of smog curtaining the area, you pulled your mask back up, turning for the main road. A quiet rip followed graveled footsteps, flipping a small patch in between your fingers, and curling them against your palm.

Two Russian soldiers, a mere 50 meters away. Your breath hitched at the sudden turn of one, hesitantly stopping to eye you whilst whispering to his comrade.

“HEY, THE HELL ARE YOU DOING STANDING THERE LIKE THAT?”

It was a good thing the military prepared you well concerning foreign encounters. Countless missions in Russia had taught you plenty, but the problem didn’t lie there. It was the cruel reminder that you’d been ambushed in Syria that tied your tongue, biting back the spiting hatred coating your saliva at the sight of the Ultranationalist patches on their — your chest.

“GOT DISTRACTED, IT WAS WORTH IT!”

The soldiers turned their heads in curiosity as you approached, a self proclaimed smile falling to your lips at the unveiling of your hand.

“A real trophy, no?”

Shadow Company’s insignia, laced with thin lines of gold. A small strip on the bottom displayed a “L” in italics, bearing the title of second in commandment to whoever wore it. Silent prayers through fraught eyelashes held the hope that you’d get the chance to wear it again, that is, if you made it out of this alive.

Seeing the stretch of one’s arm out, you placed the insignia in his hand, watching as he lifted it just inches away from his face. The other joined his mindless ogling, sharing sneers of scorn towards the Shadow Company whilst laughing about how stupid their Lieutenant must have been.

If only they knew who was standing right in front of them.

“It’s not every day you get one of these, eh, drook?”

His arm hooked around your shoulder, pulling you between them as they began to walk.

“Seen any stragglers?”

The smoke logged in your throat was enough to neutralize any identifiable feminine vocals. While you did sound a bit strange, no questions were asked.

“Nah, wouldn’t be surprised if we killed them all!”

Nervous laughter joined in with the choruses beside you. The hood over your head provided enough cover for your eyebrows to knit coldly together, swallowing the rising tides of guilt that sloshed in your stomach.

Nearly 300 men had been sent on this exchange mission.

“The Commander.” The rise of your voice was sudden, barely concealing the panic within. “Is he alive?”

“Of course, boss wanted the American to have a little taste of Russian prison torture before we killed him.”

Prison torture. Russian prison torture.

You were blankly shoved into the transport car, left only to yourself for a moment before a hand wrapped itself around your neck once more. Your eyes were shaking in their sockets, blood beneath your hands buzzing with frenzied nerves as you looked over. Upon seeing your expression, the soldier laughed, jerking you to the side.

“You okay, comrade?”

A shake of your head upward and a small smile followed. Forced, almost painful.

“Fine.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

A PRISON IN AL MAZRAH.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!”

A sea of encouraging cheers rose throughout the courtyard, booming in excited waves at every splatter of blood painted across concrete. You ran a hand over your face before stepping amidst the mass of men, firing a shot of your Saiga just centimeters away from their feet. The crowd went silent at this, shuffling to the side to reveal two prisoners lying next to one another, battered and bloody.

“You know what happens when you disrespect orders, no?” Your tone was chipper, coldly sliding a pair of handcuffs onto the first prisoner. “The chamber is waiting for you.”

“Wait, no .. no- PLEASE! DON’T SEND ME THER-“

Ragged breathing were silenced by the wrap of a cloth over his mouth, double knotted around his neck to keep him still. Another officer took the man beside you, dragging him up to his feet before sending a nod your way.

Sand crunched against boots and bare feet, rousing muffles of pain from the man in your grasp. His eyes widened in fear at the tug of your hand over his collar, discreetly pulling his ear next to your mouth.

“Tell you what. Make a scene, and I’ll make sure you get out of here alive.”

A desperate nod answered your whispers, leading your grip on his handcuffs to loosen. Your gaze hardened, watching as he lunged for your weapon, only receiving a crude stomp on the hand, slamming his skin into the blistering sand.

“Got quite the disrespect for authority, huh?” The guard beside you nodded, smiling down at the writhing disobedience underneath you. “Take him to sector 2.”

“Hear that? Today’s your lucky day.”

The words molded falsely aggressive, allowing you to breath a sigh of relief once the guard had started heading off.

“Once I drop you off, ask to use the bathroom.”

You straightened up, pulling him to walk steady at the loss of prying eyes. Words were no longer exchanged between the both of you, as nearing the compound ahead had captivated your attention plenty. A lone building amidst the desert’s barren landscape, appearing as nothing but a mirage to wanderers.

You’d seen Graves hauled this way countless times the past week, growing to serve as a searing case of déjà vu following the third day. Nerves found haven along your spine at the recollection of the change, the way he was stripped of resilience, snapping and snarling morphed to willful silence. In a matter of days, he had went from fighting guards to trailing lifelessly behind them, not sparing a look anywhere else but the sand that carried him as he was taken away, again and again.

For a man with such tough resolve, you feared for him.

Two heavily armored guards stood posted at the entrance of the building, waving their greetings to you at the clearance of whirling dust. You roughly pushed the prisoner forward, watching as he stumbled into the grasp of the man before you, crinkling eyes of amusement giving way to an invisible smile under the mask.

“Here again, durak?” The guard sneered, holding the slouched neck of the prisoner up. “Not gonna piss yourself this time, are you?”

Ironic.

“Maybe you should take me to the bathroom, first.”

His plead was answered by a malicious string of laughter, tugged forward to round the building in silent acknowledgment. The other guard followed suit, completely unaware of the extra spurts of sand being kicked up behind him.

Shoved up against the wall, the prisoner flicked a finger in your direction.

A quiet pattern of shuffles rang out from beside him as you grabbed the first guard, callously gliding a knife against the bare spot on his neck. The other turned to you, fumbling for his gun whilst wide eyes watched you pull a pistol from your chest holster. His movements fell stale at the addition of a bullet hole to fearful features, right between the eyes.

You stepped back, the corpse wrapped around your forearm slumping to the ground at its retraction.

“Get out of here, before I change my mind.”

His eyes shot open at the sudden change in language, frantically grabbing one of the guard’s guns before scurrying off. Deciding not to take your chances, you dragged the bodies beside a mound of sand behind the building, rutting your boots into the ground to cover the trail of blood that followed.

You didn’t know what your expected from a Russian torture hideout, but you definitely anticipated something less.. normal. The creak of your hand on the door roused at least 5 pairs of visible eyes, all reflected dimly off a large pane of glass.

“Another one. Man, boss really has it out for the American, huh?”

A harsh pat fell to the broad of your back before pulling you forward, eyes shifting to gaze past the glass.

There he was. Phillip Graves, slumped over in a small wooden chair. Dim light filtered over crimson streaks and purple bruises alike, his hair decently tussled and damp with blood.

“Come on, let’s see if you can get anything out of him before dinner.”

“Of course.”

The words mindlessly slipped past your lips, eyes glued to the ground with every step you took. Upon the sharp groan of metal scraping against concrete, his head raised all but a fraction, taking your presence in with complete stillness.

A small table sat in the corner of the room, every inch adorned with familiar and foreign weapons alike. Feeling the eyes of the guards hounding you from behind the glass, you stepped in front of the small armory, spinning a silver knife to your grasp.

Dirtied hair was taken in a harsh tug of fingers, lifting his head high enough to level with your own. The burning urge to reveal yourself to him ate at your every movement, yet the thought of his reaction was too big a risk to take.

“How many times have you been tortured today, American?”

The heavy accent of Russia washed over your English, making a convincing argument to the slight use of broken nouns and slurred speech. His leer reflected glassy, clouded with boredom at your feeble attempt to scare him.

Graves had always been a pretty expressionate man, but all you saw now was the frozen over exterior of a wronged commander who had lost everything, including his dignity.

Your next breath was heavy, blinking at the thought of what you were about to do. As much as you didn’t want to, you had to present yourself. You had to make him talk.

Luckily, you were the only one in this country that knew what made Graves tick.

Gloved fingers slowly rose to grasp his chin, lifting the knife to dance along the mute lights hanging above. The tip of the blade shimmered against drifting particles of dust, moving to rest flat against the base of his right cheek.

“How about a token to remember this moment?”

The edge jutted upward, sliding into his skin at an agonizingly slow pace. You watched as his eyes began to part, teeth gritting in the slightest, just as you knew they would.

You remembered it, clear as day. The time he let it slip. He’d spent weeks obsessing over a nick on his forehead, threatening to shoot anyone who brought it up. A lack of clarification sat in the reason, but you knew it for sure.

Graves was horrified of scarring his face.

“Shadow Company.” The words came out dangerously nerved, eyes never leaving the blade dragging across his skin. “We were delivering missiles.”

You stopped in the middle, delving a little deeper. A shuddered breath responded, the flesh vibrating under your touch silently begging for you to stop.

“Who were the missiles for?”

Oh, he’d hate you for this. There wasn’t much doubt that he’d kill you, the chances only increasing with each droplet of blood streaking against his cheek.

“The Middle East.. the URA.”

Physically unable to continue, you stopped near the bottom of his eye, taking a step back before tossing the knife onto the table. The door creaked once more at your exit, welcoming you to a series of praise and cheers alike. Your stare was blank, fixed on the three soldiers surrounding you.

Cries of joy washed over grim at the first snap, followed briskly by your own blade to the nearest visible weak spot. Blood dampened your gloves, staining the noir fabric you grasped, pulling a guard in front of you to shield oncoming gunfire. Hearing the click of a dry mag, you ducked under the but of a gun, hurling your last knife across the room. In succession, the blade found its way nestled into the chest of the gunman, leaving you with two more close by.

You dodged the swipe of one’s arm, locking his wrist in your hand before stomping on his foot. The stagger sent him tumbling into the other, who had just finished loading his clip. Your eyes narrowed at the sight of his finger curling for the trigger, grasping the gun’s stock, and turning it away from you.

What you didn’t notice was the small canister of gasoline sitting against the crates of ammunition you had pointed the gun at. Eyes wide, you watched as the spark of flying bullets singed wood, horizontal recoil moving straight for the friction hungry fuel. You only cursed yourself for watching, as the guard had taken your extended hand before you could move, twisting your shoulder in perfect syngery with the knife in his hand. In a last ditch effort, you pried his hand off of the knife’s handle, pushing him toward the bullet just centimeters away from impending disaster.

You could only lift one foot before you were sent flying through the observation window, subconsciously crying out at the deafening explosion hammering into your ears. A dizzying hum erupted in your skull as you rolled against the concrete, welcoming your face to a scorching patch of fallen debris at rest. Your teeth clenched impossibly close together at the rising pain in your shoulder, only managing to scoot up against what was left of the wall, head hanging in an attempt to level yourself.

The ashes fell slowly, mixing your bloodied hands to a coat of muted grey. Flames licked at your back, illuminating the ravaged space before you, and pushing back against your shoulder in smoldering waves.

You raised a hand to the knife’s handle, curling it firmly against your fingers before tugging. A sharp hiss slipped through gritted teeth following the thick splat of blood amidst the darkness, your eyes fluttering in surprise at the sheer amount you were losing. You pressed a hand against the dampened patch of heat on your shoulder whilst the other moved up to your neck, clicking the flashlight nestled against your collar on.

Amongst the billows of smoke, you could see the chair Graves had been in. Only problem was, he was missing.

A shallow breath pushed its way from the depths of your smoke infested throat, wheezing out in protest at the grasp of your hands along a column of debris. Pulling yourself up, you stumbled forward, head spinning in acclimation to the blood-loss.

It wasn’t physically possible for you to hate the Russians more than you did now. This land had been a breeding ground for misery, leaving you just as defenseless as you had been the last time you were stranded here. Part of you wished you’d just been dumped into the fires back on that road, accepting a somewhat honorable death instead of.. this.

Rocks crumbled in unstable patterns, shaking the world around you in hefty crashes. You stepped past the metal table, now across the room, kicking weapons to the side in an attempt to preserve your boots. The black of night became visible as you emerged from the building, swirled alongside thick tendrils of smoke, allowing you only a moment to observe the sky before you were tackled to the ground.

Your hand mindlessly reached out, seizing the mystery weapon heading straight for your throat, and directing it to the sand beside you. Blinking against the rising swells of dust, you saw a familiar silhouette through the grit, prompting you to pull your mask down before it was too late.

The whisper of currents accounted for the silence, leaving you to watch as Graves backed away, eyes quivering in shock.

“…Fangs?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, taking in the flash of disbelief across his pupils. “It’s me”

You lay in strained wait, eyes scrolling over the discarded weapon just inches from your head. Certainly he’d kill you right here for what you did. It wasn’t like you could fight back, anyway, with his knee holding you against the ground.

The sight bestowed upon you resembled something much worse than death. His eyes were hung low, sunken further by the dark pools of sleepless nights settled beneath. You never thought he could look so.. lifeless, the stark, blank stare of his pupils making you squirm against the sand.

And then, he breathed. Low, quiet, scared.

He ran a hand over your hood, tugging it off to reveal the last of you. A swallow followed the full sight of your face, a look of contemplation dancing across his irises. You tensed, following the drift of his eyes to the weapon, and back to you.

“You.. forget it, shit.”

Unable to retaliate, you were pulled to your feet, left to reclaim your balance as his arms retracted, almost reacting as if your skin had burned him.

“Don’t..” His breathing slowed, a sigh following the ever so faint soften of his gaze upon straying over yours. “Don’t do that, ever again.“

“Graves, you’re not making any sense.”

You took a step back as he stumbled forward, holding back a hiss at the sudden grip of his hand on your forearm. Panicked breathing filled your ears at his notion, growing closer with every waking moment you stood there, eyes fixed on him with an inability to look away.

“I’m, I- fuck.. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Solid words melted to a fevered string of mumbles, strengthening the hold on your wrists to keep himself standing. “I just know that I need you, Fangs.”

He was steadily shaking at this point, using the last of his energy to lean forward before his knees gave out. You staggered back at the mass entrusted to your hold, slowly setting him against a nearby crate before diving a hand into one of the pockets on your utility belt. Working past the clouds of confusion that dampened your mind, you flicked the cover off of an adrenaline shot, lifting one of his arms up to jab it against a non tense mass on the underside. The smaller supply was self dosed, finally giving you enough energy to think properly.

“We need to get out of here.” Your tone was low, quiet in the way hurried words slipped through a taut jaw. “Once we clear the area, we can call for.. shit.”

The adrenaline came too late to work effectively. In a matter of seconds, he had slumped over completely, heartbeat barely present against the slip of your hand under his shirt.

You swore, throwing the empty cartridges of stimulant to the side. Mustering all of what little strength you had, you pulled Graves up to rest against your back, stopping to pull a compass from your belt.

Settlements would be over the dunes, half a klick north. You just hoped your own adrenaline shot would last.

TWELVE HOURS LATER.

AN ABANDONED BUILDING SOMEWHERE ALONG THE OUTSKIRTS OF AL MAZRAH.

Click, click, click.

“Price? This is Cobra actual, come in.”

Static.

Your hand clenched against tepid air, unplugging the radio before shoving its port back into the socket. Dim rays of sunlight filtered against the table you sat at, bringing life to tiny particles of dust floating to rest against your gear. The Russian’s coat had long been dumped into the garbage, leaving you in a worn, dirty shell of your PMC, or what was left of it.

A faint spark from the radio pulled you back to reality, hovering your thumb over the PTS.

“This is Price, send traffic.”

You sighed in relief, pressing down on the button.

“I say again, this is Cobra. Immediate backup requested, Northeast Al Mazrah.”

A laugh followed.

“The Hell you doin’ in Syria?”

“I’ll tell you later, out here.”

The rise of footsteps captivated your attention, leading you to turn in your chair and set the radio down. From around the corner, you saw Graves peak his head into the room, blinking at the sight of you, as if he’d been looking for some time.

“Hey.”

You patted the side of the chair as you stood, reaching over the table to grab your utility belt. To your ease, over 10 hours of sleep had done him well. He looked much better, able to walk and move normally despite the lack of medical care given.

“How do you feel?”

Graves settled down into the chair, sending a reassuring smile your way, fading into the ghost of his lips curved upwards at the sight of you, still decently battered yourself. The stab wound on your shoulder had been sloppily bandaged, joined with the smudges of dirt and char along what skin he could see.

“I’ll live.”

What would’ve been a question to your own health was caught in his throat, pushed back down in a thick gulp at the sudden rise of your frame. Your face stopped a mere 5 inches away from his own, a hand covered in cloth steadily reaching out to close the distance. Blood caked eyelashes fluttered at the sensation of warm water, dragging down to smear days of torture down his cheek. Upon reaching the right side of his face, you stopped, frozen in abrupt fear at the sight — the thin line of your stigmata sitting firm along his cheekbone.

“Your face...” You blinked, mouth drawing into a thin line the more you looked at it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A hand crept along your forearm, stopping to clasp around your covered fingers.

“Don’t.” The cloth was guided down to press against the opening, rousing a light hiss from him. “You did what you had to.”

Hand lightly trembling, you watched blood trickle out of the stressed legion. He moved you down, soaking up the last of the grime on his face before letting you go.

Shifting back, Graves lifted his chin, allowing you to pop the top two buttons of his shirt off. Beneath the dark blue sat a nasty gash of contrast, glowing in agitation against pale skin. Your mouth parted in surprise, taking in the next, and the one after that, pulling his shirt down to expose a sea of heavy damage spread across his collarbone.

“Wait ‘til you see what’s below that.”

“Christ, Graves.” You muttered, fumbling for the disinfectant. “I should’ve been faster.”

Although the last words pushed off of your lips were practically silent, he heard you just fine. Before you could address his wounds any further, he grasped your chin, forcing your eyes to level with his.

“Listen, Fangs. I owe you my life, and then some.” His thumb dragged along your jaw, stopping just below your ear. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about things you had no control over.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden change in his demeanor, mouth drooping to the side in anticipation of what you’d do next.

On second thought, maybe he was just being stupid. You were just trying to clean his damn wounds, and he was letting himself get way too flustered over your proximity.

“You need me.”

Oh?

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

A lopsided smile joined raised eyebrows, completely aware that you had meant that as an inquiry. Your eyes narrowed at the rise of arrogance in his tone.

“Don’t fuck with me, Graves.”

The low bark in your throat gave away that you were on edge, and he was entirely the reason why. You never had liked when he teased you, but that wasn’t it, not this time. There was no room for that, anyway, as the subconscious press of your hand against his bruised chest was getting him more worked up than he liked to admit.

“I needed you then, and I need you now.” His head tilted, leaning up to sever most of the distance between you. “I want you, Fangs.”

The need — the want for you wasn’t new. For the past week, his thoughts had drifted to you countlessly, wondering if you were still out there, if you were as angry as he was concerning Shepherd. Guessing by the way you ruthlessly slaughtered those men for him, you were just as furious, maybe worse. After all, Shadow Company was yours just as much as it was his.

Whatever it was; between the both of you, something needed to alleviate, fast.

It was quick, his lips finding solace against your own. You sighed at the feeling, pooling warm air over his skin. He almost felt ashamed at how worked up you’d gotten him from doing almost nothing at all, latching onto your wrists to hold you against him.

Maybe the shame was partially from the guilt; he should be mourning right now, thinking of some way to get back at Shepherd for his fault in the massive loss at Al Mazrah.

He knew you were thinking the same, forcefully grasping at his hair to silence the internal war you were having with yourself. It was all solemn, mid thought, each stroke of his tongue against your teeth, sucking in every possible taste of you.

Maybe it wasn’t so wrong, then. Disaster had always loved your company, and now you had a someone to share that burden with.

Your friend in misery, perhaps.

You kissed until you could no longer feel the steady inflation of your lungs, breaking away from his face only when his fingers dug into your forearms. One of your hands was pulled up to run along the expanse of his right cheek, lathering now stale blood along your fingers as he pressed them against the laceration. Graves let out a soft groan at the sting, bringing your fingers to his mouth to lick at the mess of him sticking to your skin.

The metallic taste of blood coated your tongue as he let go of your arm, lowering his hands to circle around your waist. You were blindly set onto the edge of the couch in the living room, left devoid of prying teeth as he lifted himself off of you.

Graves’ eyes wandered down from your coat, falling to watch your hands circle around the hem of your jeans, popping the button free before tugging the zipper down. The very sight was mesmerizing, forcing him to push your hands up before he got too carried away.

“The things you do to me..”

You sighed at the feeling of his hands on your bare skin, hastily tugging your jeans off with one hand, and using the other to slide your underwear down with it. Slender fingers crawled up your thigh, stopping to rest on the inner curve.

“May I?”

Always a gentleman.

“Yes.” You whispered, thighs clenching around his arm. “Hurry.”

A soft laugh slipped from his lips at your desperation, wasting no time in dipping his fingers where you so desperately wanted them to go. You bit the inside of your cheek at the invasion of him against your folds, eagerly lathering up your arousal before prodding at your hole. Graves couldn’t help but groan himself as he pushed two fingers inside of you, now plenty aware of the painful strain of his erection against his pants.

What a great way to pay someone back.

“Taking me so well, darl’.”

Your eyes closed at the thickening of his accent on the last word, threatening to leak all over him right then and there. Graves was too busy to notice, thankfully, as his eyes yet pulled away from the sight of his fingers slipping in and out of you, canines clamping down against his lips as his skin grew more drenched with each thrust.

“Mmph, Graves.” You drawled out, pathetically moaning at the presence of him pressed knuckle deep inside you. “Gonna… cum.”

“Atta girl.” His fingers abruptly curled, rolling your eyes backward in shock. “Cum for me, Fangs.”

A low whistle pooled from his lips as you soaked his hand, glancing up to look up at you, smiling lightly at the feverish look on your face. Before you could even think of settling down from your high, Graves slinked a hand down to your thigh, softly groping the flesh as he spread you out.

You audibly gasped at the sudden glide of his tongue over your pussy, mulling over your glistening folds in needy apprehension of tasting you further. A hum vibrated against your skin as you coated his tastebuds, perfectly sweet, yet too short lived.

Without warning, his tongue snaked into your hole, greedily slithering along the shallow of your walls. One of your thighs was released of his grip as his fingers traveled up, stopping to rub harsh circles against your bud.

You’d never taken Graves as a man to shamelessly eat someone out like this. Yet here he was, licking you up like you were the last thing he’d ever taste.

His eyes drifted up at the ragged shift in your moans, growing hoarse with every ministration of his tongue against your pussy. Seeing the coats of sweat beginning to shine along your face, he winked, stuffing himself further against your walls, effectively making you cry out.

Cocky bastard.

Graves increased his pace almost knowingly, eyes drifting back down to focus on his fingers, furiously rubbing at your folds. You felt your second orgasm wash over you in blistering ripples, feeling his tongue slide out of you. He rested at your folds, lapping any of your juices that missed his mouth.

When he was satisfied, he stood from your legs, wiping the back of his hand over the tip of his nose, moving down to his mouth next. Sitting up, you pulled him to sit beside you, lashes fluttering at the pure look of haze returned. Sighing, you slowly pushed him against the arm of the couch, watching his eyes flick upward, never leaving your apprehending grasp.

A soft hiss followed the graze of your hand along his clothed erection, moving to tug at his zipper in your own anticipation. Your mouth parted in the slightest at the drag of his boxers downward, frankly taken aback at the size of him.

“Fangs..” Graves mumbled, feebly pulling one of your shoulders forward. “Need to be inside you now, honey.”

The low whine in his tone forced you to swallow a line of drool back, grasping his dick whilst sliding closer to him. You sank down onto him agonizingly slow, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan biting its way from your lips. Impossibly full was the only way to describe it, his dick stretching your walls wider than you envisioned possible.

“That’s it, baby. Taking me so well.”

Graves pulled you forward, cursing at the pained bliss working up in his shoulders. Each stretch of his wounds elicited a sweet moan from his lips, falling into a rasped symphony with your cries at his erratic pace. Your neck lowered to nip at his jaw, lightly twisting his skin between your teeth as you worked your way up. Upon reaching his lips, your teeth retracted, eagerly swallowing the pitiful vibrations pooling into your throat.

The lack of oxygen was nearly calming, pulling you away from the raging fires of blame in your head. Deep inside, you knew the shame and remorse of what happened would never go away. You’d have to learn to accept it, but accepting wasn’t always the easiest choice.

It meant going after Shepherd; sticking a deadly target on your back that would never disappear. Ending the possibility of you and Graves before you even got a real taste of it.

It was selfish, really. But who were you without that need?

Nothing. Such a simple word being the catalyst of the scorch in your chest, the fresh scar on Graves’ cheek, the raging forest fire of agony melted into desire.

Your lack of hesitation when it came to Graves wasn’t due to the stress, however. Each drag of his tongue along your skin proved you’d been pulled into the undertow long ago, as had he.

After all, it was common knowledge that you do crazy things for the people you love. And, maybe you could learn to love Graves in time.

Tears pricked against the corners of your eyes, washing salty streams of heated frustration down your face. Graves continued to devour every inch of your mouth, sucking the low song of sorrow into his own being as you cried. His own vexations fell to the ruthless piston of his cock in and out of your overspent walls, sparking a match to the kerosene coil in your abdomen once again. You spasmed against his dick, nails curling against the rough material of his shirt in a weak attempt to stay grounded.

Sensing your struggle, Graves dropped his hands down to your waist, dipping under your coat to roughly squeeze at the scalding flesh underneath. The coarse sensation of his hands on you sent your body into overdrive, crying out against his neck as you came over his dick. He was quick to follow, messily rutting into you a handful of times before pulling out, swiftly lifting your coat up to come on your stomach.

The two of you sat still, quietly panting amidst the cool dawn air. Minutes of stiff silence held you in place, breaking reluctantly at the shift of Graves against you, slowly peeling your coat off the prevent it from dirtying any further. Slightly trembling legs fell to gentle hands, setting you down where he had been as he stood, tucking himself together before leaving the room.

You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the hushed click of shoes on wood as Graves moved about. Upon his return, a damp cloth was pressed against your abdomen, wiping his mess up before folding it in half, lightly patting cool water against your face.

“What are we gonna do about Shepherd?”

The burning question, one that he had been mulling over for some time himself. Yet, despite how much he tried to craft a solution, he was left empty handed, and utterly helpless.

The couch dipped, you lifted you legs momentarily so he could sit beside you.

“I don’t know, Fangs.” He muttered, following your gaze up to the barren ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Accept it, we’re utterly screwed.

Right?

“Do you regret what we just did?”

Your eyes dropped, his followed suite. His pupils were still slightly wide, hair sticking up in unruly strands, shirt wrinkled beyond repair. He almost looked normal — you almost felt normal.

“Do you really take me for that kind of man?”

You shrugged, watching with a fleeting glint of amusement passing your eyes as he rolled his own. Silently, you beckoned him forward, allowing him to flip you over while his back took the couch’s surface. Your hands drifted up to his neck, resting in a loop around it.

The faint thrum of his heart fell intimately privy to your ears, effortlessly draping the serenity of much needed sleep over your eyes, welcoming you to the darkness as they finally shut. Seeing this, Graves slid one of his hands above your chest, stopping to brush a strand of hair out of your face before draping it around your shoulder.

“I didn’t regret it, Fangs. Not a single second.”

4 HOURS LATER.

Click, click.

“Cobra, this is Price, over. What’s your 20?”

Your eyes squinted against the fresh light of dawn, raising a hand to rub over your face. As quietly as you could, you pried yourself from Graves’ hold, pulling your clothes on before heading for the radio.

“This is Cobra. Ready to deploy a flare on your word.”

“Ready when you are.”

You tugged your utility belt forward, pulling a small red stick out of one of the pockets.

“Roger that.”

Low tides of dust greeted your skin as you stepped outdoors, popping the cap off of the pyrotechnic. A sharp scrape of the surface and the flare sparked, enveloping the area around you in a violent sea of red as it was dropped to the ground. You stepped away from the signal, watching the clouds nearly two klicks off shift, welcoming you to the sight of helicopter blades.

A quiet shuffle roused your attention away from the sky, looking back to see Graves leaning against the doorframe. Your utility belt was handed over at his approach, leading his arms to cross, eyes never leaving the approaching aircraft.

“You sure you trust these guys, Fangs?”

You nodded, waving up to the shadowed figures now visible amongst the sky. Upon touchdown, you beckoned for Graves to follow, stopping at the foot of the helicopter at the sight of Price, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the man beside you.

“I’m supposing he’s with you?”

“Yeah.” You reached up, grasping his outstretched hand. “American Special Forces mission went to shit, thanks for the help.”

Your blatant lie passed without question as Price nodded, leading you to share a look of relief with Graves before pulling him into the aircraft. A brief handshake was shared between the supposed ASF and TSF captain before he sat down beside you, biting back a laugh at the prying scroll of Price’s eyes over your injuries. Before you could spit out any excuses, he sat across from the two of you, nodding questioningly to the patch of red under your shoulder.

“So, got a story to share?”

#arqhms #arqhmsthirst #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw22 #phillip graves x you #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves smut #graves x reader #phillip graves mw2

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ineffable-obsession · 15 days

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90s Crowley Cosplay

So! I'm working on a S1 shoulder-length hair Crowley cosplay costume for Ineffable Con 5, and I've really been getting into the details of the costume. Let's look at this guy:

I'm getting lost in the weeds a bit, but! He has at least two different snake belts used in the same damn costume! And a different one in s3!

The top (s1:e1, antichrist delivery) has a golden sheen to the head and prominent raised oversized scales.

The middle one (s1:e1, park) has a satin black finish and paired holes over the entire length (presumably, we never see the back but they wrap around).

The S2 belt also has a golden sheen on the snakehead buckle, high gloss finish but more more subtle scales, visible rivets attaching the head to the belt, and top stitching along the edges.

Reproducing the belt

The easy part: you can just order exactly that snake head buckle off Etsy, the very same one used in the show. Available here for $20 (resin) / $90 (aluminum cast).

It has little black jewels for eyes you can glue on once it's painted (1/4" diameter).

At this point, I'm not entirely convinced that the first belt is real snakeskin; it might be embossed leather or PVC. Python scales look like rounded diamonds up close; cobras are more like ovals, vipers have the sharp diamond shape with the raised center (like the vein of a leaf).

If you go looking for viper skins, basically nothing comes up, but! Rattlesnakes are in the viper family and you can find both Western and Eastern diamondback hides quite easily. And they have the leaf pattern to the scales.

But if you compare the snakeskin in the costume belt and the real hide (bottom left) or a real belt (bottom right), Crowley's belt is overly regular in its pattern and doesn't have spacing between the scales the way real hides do. Crowley's belt is ~9 scales tall (top to bottom), the rattlesnake is ~15 scales, meaning the show's belt has scales 1.66x the size of a natural hide. Real snakes have much, much smaller scales. The more I look at real rattlesnake hides, the faker those scales look to me.

I'm fairly certain the S2 belt is real snake skin -- the smaller scale size and the flatter scale matches python belts nicely.

Embossed leather can give you nice deep grooves between the scales, and an even pattern, matching the belt in the park.

I cannot find a viper print embossed leather anywhere on the Internet. Faux snake vinyl / PVC fabric, however, has huge scales -- the same ~9 "scales" per inch, and there's likely one somewhere with that leaf-texture.

Conclusions

I can't say for certain, but I think the first belt seems really likely to be PVC wrapped in order to get that texture.

The middle one was likely made of embossed strap leather, the more durable material supports all those extra holes without being weakened, and the single layer doesn't require top stitching. The scales are an extremely regular pattern, and still fairly oversized. Plus you can get those very deep grooves between the "scales" when they're stamped into the leather.

The final belt looks like actual snakeskin wrapped leather -- you wouldn't use rivets like that on PVC, it's not strong enough, but riveting leather is just fine. Plus, it has a line of machine stitching near the top and bottom, which makes sense if you're joining two very different materials together (thin skin and hide). The scales are the smallest and flattest of the bunch, which matches actual snakeskin. And, the budget of S2 was a bit higher, so maybe they had more money to blow on a $300 snakeskin belt?

My suggestion for a belt?

This is currently $12 and not overly terrible, it's got an ok pebbley grain to the scales, at 1.3" wide it's pretty close to the buckle size.

If you have access to some dye that will work on pleather, you could try dying this one, $13. It's not particularly embossed though, so the snakeskin pattern might just disappear on you.

If you have money to spend, a 1.5" wide, men's python skin belt will run you about $56, this one is quite close to that s2 look.

Happy crafting and dress up!

#good omens #good omens costumes #crowley #cosplay #costume design #costume deep dive #snek #snake belt #everyone's favorite demon #i am perhaps somewhat unhealthily obsessed

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samdeancass · 2 years

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Sarcasm and Attitude

Requested by: @spaceygirly1

Prompt #12 from my Kink/Smut Prompt List: “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Pairing: Tory Nichols x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Characters: Tory, Y/N

Description: Y/N is feisty and sarcastic and that’s what Tory loves about her but when she starts to have an attitude, Tory doesn’t stand for it.

Everyone knew that Tory was a feisty and sarcastic person. But when they met you, you took feisty and sarcastic to a whole other level.

You and Tory were perfect for each other. You both were strong, independent women who took no shit from no-one. Tory loved it when you took charge of a situation, it actually turned her on but when that attitude was aimed at her, she made sure to make you pay for it.

______________

You were training at the Cobra Kai dojo, focusing all of your anger and frustration on the dummy. You had had a really hard day at school and it took everything in your power not to punch your teachers in their faces. You were that focused that you didn’t hear the bell go off as someone walked in.

You swung your leg back ready to give a high kick when a pair of hands wound themselves around your ankle. “What the fuck! Get off me!” You turned around with an angry expression only to be met with a stern look from Tory.

“What did you just say to me?” Your anger and frustration soon melted away and a smug smirk replaced them. “You heard me, or have you turned deaf since the last time I saw you?” You should have known that being sarcastic was a bad idea but, as usual, your mouth moved before you had time to think.

Tory let go of your leg and as quick as a flash you came crashing down on the mat with Tory on top of you, her hand around your throat. She slowly leaned down and whispered in your ear. “I’ve had enough of your attitude and sarcasm. You deserve to be punished.” A dampness began pooling in your panties as Tory dragged you up from the mat and dragged you towards the changing rooms, locking the door.

She backed you up against the wall, her hand still on your throat. Her pupils had blown with lust as a devious smile grew on her face, laughing. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Before you had time to react your uniform and panties were ripped from your body, leaving you completely helpless and naked underneath her.

She stepped away and admired you, licking her lips. “My, my, my. Look at you.” She rushed over to you and pinned you against the wall, holding your hands firmly above your head, before whispering in your ear. “I’m going to show you who the real boss is around here.”

She harshly pressed her lips against yours, forcing yours open with her tongue whilst sliding one hand down your naked chest and twiddling your hardening nipple between her fingers. A breathy moan left you and Tory took this as an invitation to push her tongue in more.

You tried to wriggle free of her grasp, desperate to touch her, but Tory just pushed back further and shook her head, pulling away. “Bad girls don’t get what they want.” She began attacking the side of your throat as well as your sweet spot as her hand slid down your body and danced across your pussy, fingers ghosting over your clit.

She broke the kiss and gave a smug smirk before entering a finger inside you and fucking you with her finger. Immediately, your legs buckled with the unanticipated action, your fingernails leaving crescent shapes in your palms. Her thumb moved over to your clit and began rubbing slow, sensual circles, causing you to cross your legs.

The familiar stomach began building in your stomach as Tory entered a second finger and increased the speed, rubbing figure eights on your clit. “T-Tory, I-I’m gonna c-cum.” Her eyes widened and she immediately pulled away, much to your dismay.

“Naughty girls don’t get to cum. They have to wait until they have been good enough to deserve to cum.” And she walked away, leaving you shaking with arousal and frustration at the lack of release.

You knew that she was doing this to punish you but it was only turning you on more.

#tory nichols #tory nichols x reader #tory nichols imagine #tory nichols fanfiction #tory nichols smut #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai fanfiction #cobra kai smut

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crsentfairy · 5 months

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benson jean facts! 🥊

he's a taurus. (may 12) he is 67 years old.

ben is a retired middleweight boxing champion nicknamed "benny buckle" for his metal-like fists and fierce punches reminiscent to the buckle of a belt.

most of donna and lloyd's personality traits/looks are inherited directly from him. so when they lay hands on you, be sure to think of benny buckle with every strike.

in the same vein, ben is one of the very few people who can humble lloyd in a fight. though you'd have to kill lloyd before getting that type of information out of him.

he hates frank sinatra. don't play his BS around him.

though ximena and desi are not his grandchildren biologically, ben adores them in true girl dad fashion. he even got to be one of the first people to hold juno as a newborn.

he's gotten arrested twice in the 70s for underage drinking, few more times for assault and battery, and charged with intimidating a witness. (its uh, complicated)

ben's mugshot has gone viral once on twitter. girls went wild. lloyd was fighting for his life against the sheer fuckery in his mentions.

benson's then-girlfriend aka donna's mother abandoned them to elope with an irish man, when donna was only 2 years old. ben has been a single father since and only had a few short-term relationships after the fact. donna doesn't remember much about her mom.

his favorite animals are malaysian tigers and forest cobras.

he isn't actually from baltimore, though he's lived there for a large portion of his adult life. he moved there with his girlfriend right about before donna was born. he's originally from Memphis, Tennessee.

another iconic photo of him that resurfaces on the web is him post-match, getting swaddled by a group of fan girls with one even kissing his bruised and bloodied face. he was having the time of his life.

#crsent.sims #oc #benson jean #the fangirls in question were a bunch of pretty caribbean black women that came all the way down from florida to see him <3 #he was like :") the entire time. black eye and all #he had to win for them no matter WHAT. he can't disappoint bad bitches that's not how he was raised😞🙏🏿

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roo-brr · 1 month

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BEHOLD. CHEF SHINYO‼️‼️‼️

Do not. Let him. In your kitchen. HE IS GRILLING SNAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Specifically cobra and kingsnake :]

He DID have the shoes from the original meme (3rd picture, not mine ofc 😌) but @wentasch kindly pointed and laughed. So he has real Hawk feet now. He can no longer one two, buckle his shoe :(

(He also has his beautiful, beautiful beard. Much to @takami-flock (Ines) dismay 😌)

Shinyo stubble supremacy.

❗️SHINYO TAKAMI, the character, IS BY @sleepwalkersqueen from the fic "Fear of You" on Ao3 :333333333

#CHEF SHINYO IS IN THE HOOOOOUSE #sHINYO MEMES BABBYYYYYY #fear of you #shinyo takami #mha #takami shinyo #foy #bnha #foy memes #shinyo #shinyo meme #pic edits

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stephenandus · 1 year

Link

The Velocity Systems Enhanced Variable Width Riggers Belt is now available in black with three buckle options to choose from. The new buckle options allow each customer the ability to choose the belt that fits their individual needs. The Velocity Systems Enhanced Variable Width Riggers Belt solves the issue of having to wear both a trouser belt, and then another riggers belt through a battle belt on top of that.

#cobra buckle riggers belt

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kazoosandfannypacks · 11 months

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"Window Seat" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 3K Summary: Emma's son, Henry, befriends the man sitting next to them on an airplane- and Emma is impressed by how well the stranger bonds with him. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, captain cobra swan Author’s notes: I've always loved interacting with children. They speak genuinely, they love life, and they ask questions that aren't (usually) too hard to answer. When I was flying back from my last vacation, I sat next to a four year old girl who was an absolute delight to talk with. (She once had a dream about zombie turtles! She invited me to play with her dollhouse sometime! She said the Obi-Wan keychain on my backpack looked like a monkey!) By the end of the flight, even though I'm six times her age, we considered each other friends. This fic is inspired by kids like her. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

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Emma held her son's hand firmly as she walked to the back of the plane, trying to find their seat numbers. Navigating an airport was hard enough as is, but bringing a four year old boy with you makes it even more difficult, especially when you're managing him on your own.

Fortunately, though it hardly felt that way, Emma was used to taking care of her son by herself.

"Are we almost there?" Henry asked.

"Our seat numbers are 83D and 83E," Emma said, "And here's number 80, 81," she counted and pointed them out to her son, "82, 83."

"That's us!" Henry said.

"Yup," Emma said, "your seat's the middle one in this row."

She helped Henry take off his backpack and put it under the seat in front of him, then they both took their seats as Henry, in spite of being warned many times about strangers, introduced himself to the passenger next to him.

"Hello!" Henry said.

"Hello there," the man said, "looks like we're traveling buddies today."

Emma had been distracted by switching her phone into airplane mode, but when she heard the stranger's accent, she looked up to see if his appearance was just as attractive- and was delighted to find that it was.

"Have you ever been on an airplane before?" Henry asked him.

"Quite a few times," he said.

"Are you going to grampa's birthday party too?" Henry asked.

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Well for one thing, I wasn't invited," the stranger gave a good natured smile, "and another, I've never met your grampa."

"My mom and I can introduce you!" Henry said, pointing at Emma, "and you can come with us."

"Henry," Emma interrupted, "let's buckle your seatbelt, okay? And don't pester this nice man with so many questions; he probably wants to just take a nice, quiet flight to Maine."

The reason Emma wanted Henry to keep quiet wasn't solely out of decency towards the other traveler, and it wasn't of a motherly caution about strangers either. She'd be lying to herself if she said it wasn't borne of not wanting to annoy one of the cutest strangers she'd ever met.

"It's no trouble, really," he said, "I've never minded children; I was a camp counselor for quite a few years in my younger days."

"Henry'll talk your ear off if you let him," Emma ruffled her son's hair before adjusting his seatbelt.

"I don't take people's ears off!" Henry protested.

"It's one of those expressions," Emma explained, "it means you talk a lot."

"Oh yeah," Henry said, then turned back to the stranger, "are you friends with my mom?" The man looked up at Emma and smiled, his eyes a deep and overwhelming blue.

"I don't know. I haven't met her yet," he said, not taking his eyes off her, "but maybe by the end of the flight we will be."

"I'm Henry," Henry piped up.

The stranger looked back down at Henry and held a hand out to him. "Pleasure to meet you Henry," he said, "my name's Killian."

"I'm Emma," Emma said.

"What a lovely name," Killian smiled.

"Okay, so he's a bit of a flirt," Emma thought, though she didn't stop herself from smiling at his compliment.

"Have you ever been on an airplane before, Henry?" Killian asked.

"Nope!" Henry said.

"Are you excited for your first flight?"

"Yeah!" Henry said.

Just then, the stewardess' voice came over the plane's speakers.

"Okay Henry," Emma whispered, "we have to be quiet now, okay?"

"Okay," Henry said.

He tried his best to sit quietly, but four minutes is an eternity when you're only four years old. Every now and then he'd start to ask a question, and Emma would remind him to be quiet- and once or twice he tried to ask Killian something, which led to a similar gentle reminder to be quiet.

Soon, they were allowed to talk again, and the plane began down the runway. Emma pulled a pack of gum out of her jacket pocket.

"Here, buddy," Emma handed Henry a stick of gum, "remember what I told you?" "That my ears will pop off if I don't eat it?" Henry asked, already putting the candy in his mouth.

"No, they'll pop," Emma corrected, "but the gum will help keep that from happening."

She took a stick of gum for herself, then held the package out to Killian. "Would you like one?" she offered.

"Thank you," he smiled, taking a stick of gum from the pack, "I certainly would hate for my ears to pop off."

Emma giggled a little- only half a giggle, almost more like an annoyed sigh, but a giggle nonetheless, and a smile along with it.

Henry was looking past Killian out the window, watching the runway as they drove across it.

"Why are we still on the ground?" Henry asked.

"It's like flying a kite," Killian answered, "you have to have a lot of room to run, so the kite is already moving fast before you let go of it, and then it gets into the air. The plane has to run really fast too."

"Cool!" Henry said.

They neared the end of the runway.

"Here we go," Killian said.

Henry let out a little squeal as the plane turned its nose up, and up they went. He looked up at his mom, and then at Killian, and then laughed a little.

"We're really high now!" Henry said.

"Indeed," Killian said, "look at the clouds!"

Emma looked out the window as well at the clouds, which were now next to, then below them.

Soon, the plane stabilized, and the stewardess announced they were free to roam about the cabin, if needed.

Henry continued asking Killian question after question, probably more questions than the stranger was in a mood to answer.

Emma pulled out her phone and opened Disney+, where she'd downloaded a few movies for Henry to watch on the plane.

"Here, kid," she handed Henry her phone, then grabbed his backpack to get his headphones out, "do you wanna pick a movie to watch?"

He looked at the downloaded titles- Treasure Planet, Peter Pan, Aladdin, and a few Lego Star Wars specials, before selecting Peter Pan.

"That's an excellent choice," Killian said.

"It's my favorite movie!" Henry said, as Emma put his headphones on his head.

"It's one of my favorites too," Killian said.

"Henry's been going through a bit of a pirate phase recently," Emma said.

"Ah," Killian nodded, "I take it you've watched Peter Pan a few too many times recently, then?"

"The things we do for our kids," Emma said, as Henry tried to lay down in his seat, resting his head in his mom's lap, incidentally kicking Killian.

"Here, move your feet, Henry," Emma said, trying to move her son's sneakers off Killian's pants.

"That's alright," Killian said, "I really don't mind."

Emma gave up the losing battle of keeping Henry's feet to himself.

"Do you have any kids of your own?" Emma asked.

"Oh, no," Killian half laughed, "but I remember what it was like to be a kid. I was a rather talkative lad myself, much like your boy."

Emma wrapped her arm around her son. "He's a pretty special kid," she said.

"His parents are very lucky to have him," Killian said.

Emma shook her head, "One of us certainly is."

Killian raised her an inquisitive eyebrow. "His father's not in the picture?"

"In the picture?" Emma rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't even say he's in the same gallery. He walked out before Henry even got to know him."

"Well, he's missing out on a charming family," Killian said, "from what I've seen, you've raised a great son."

"Thanks," Emma smiled, "I try my best."

"Well, if you ask me, you're doing great," Killian said, "it can be hard to raise a kid on your own."

Emma wrinkled her brow. "What do you know about raising kids?"

"I was on the other end of the equation," Killian said, "my mom raised three boys herself. My dad has been out of the picture since just before my little brother was born."

"From what I've seen, your mom raised a pretty good kid," Emma said.

"I try to be- my older brother was always the best of us though." Killian said, seeming a touch saddened, "he practically helped raise us. In my father's absence, he was the one who showed me how to be the man I am today."

"I'd say he did a pretty great job at it," Emma said.

"Indeed," Killian said, "I wish I'd told him that more."

Emma wasn't sure why that question was so solemn, or why it was past tense, and was unsure how to ask what he meant, so she waited for him to follow it up.

"He passed away this past week," Killian said, "that's why I'm on my way to Portland."

"I'm so sorry," Emma shook her head, unsure how one could even begin to cope with that loss- if anything happened to one of her siblings, she'd be devastated.

"Thank you," he said.

"How're you holding up?" Emma asked.

"As well as I can be," Killian shook his head with a sigh, "it's a weird feeling, really. He's just always been there, and now… now he's not. I used to say I didn't know what I'd do without him, and now- now I get to figure it out."

"I'm so sorry," Emma said, "I can't imagine what this must be like for you."

"I'm getting by," he said, "that's how you have to make it in this world, isn't it?"

"You got that right," Emma said.

"And being distracted from it helps," Killian said, "which is why I was delighted to have a seat next to your charming little chatterbox."

Emma looked down at Henry, who had fallen asleep before the characters in his movie even made it to Neverland.

"Seems the lad's a bit tuckered out," Killian said.

"After the TSA line we went through and waiting two hours in a terminal at seven a.m.?" Emma asked, "I'm surprised I'm not 'tuckered out' myself."

"Me too," Killian said.

"He sure is excited to get to meet his grandparents," Emma said, stroking her son's hair a few times.

"He hasn't met them before?" Killian asked.

"We've called them once or twice, had a few video chats," Emma said, "but the trip from Tallahassee to Maine isn't one I can shell out very often. My dad insisted on seeing his grandson this weekend though- it's the only thing he wanted for his birthday, to have the whole family together."

"How precious," Killian said, "your folks must be so excited."

"It's all my parents have been able to talk about for the last year," Emma said, "my brother and sister both still live in the area, and they said Dad's more excited than they've seen him in years."

"Does all your family live in Maine?" Killian asked.

"Pretty much," Emma said.

"Then what brought you to Tallahassee?"

"Doesn't matter anymore," Emma said, "because I didn't find it."

"Then why are you still there?"

"I've never been one to stick around the same place too long," Emma said, "but that's no life for Henry. He needs roots."

"I see," Killian said.

"I take it your story's not much different," Emma suggested.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"You're flying all the way from Tallahassee to Portland for a funeral," Emma said, "what's keeping you down there? Job? Friends? Girlfriend?"

She hoped it wasn't the last one.

He smiled, "Don't have a girlfriend, and friends are few and far between. I do quite enjoy the weather down south though, as well as my job."

"What do you do?" Emma asked.

"Captain of an authentic tallship," Killian said, "The Rolly Joger, a magnificent vessel- one of those little three-hour tour tourist traps."

"Oh, that's so fun," Emma said, "Kind of like a real pirate." She patted her son's head, watching on the phone screen in front of him as Captain Hook's crew sang a little shanty.

"Aye," he smiled, "once or twice she's even been booked for 'pirate parties,' where the kids all come dressed as pirates."

"Oh, that sounds so fun," Emma said, "I wonder if Henry might like something like that for his birthday in a couple months. He's never been on a boat before either."

"Well, you're always welcome onboard The Rolly Joger," Killian said.

"We might just take you up on that," Emma smiled.

"And what did you say do you do for a living?" Killian asked.

"I work for Yellow Bug Bail Bonds," Emma said, "apprehending people who skip bail."

"Like a modern day bounty hunter?" Killian asked.

Emma laughed, "something like that."

"That sounds exciting," Killian said.

"It pays the bills," Emma said.

She wasn't sure what to say, and apparently he wasn't either, as they were both quiet for a bit.

Eventually, Emma pulled a book out of her carry on, not about to take her phone from Henry and risk waking him, but also not about to sit there doing nothing for the next few hours.

"What are you reading?" Killian asked.

"Oh, it's a book one of my friends is writing," Emma said, "he asked me to read through and give some feedback."

"What an honor," Killian said, "what's it about?"

"Some kind of historical fiction," Emma said, "fairy tale characters in the American Revolution, or something like that. I'm only a couple chapters in."

"Sounds interesting," Killian said, "I'll, uh, leave you to it."

"Alright," Emma said.

And even as she got lost in the world in her book, she found herself glancing more than a handful of times at Killian.

A couple hours later, Henry woke up, and after a "good morning, sleepyhead" from both Killian and Emma, she restarted his movie for him- and this time he watched without falling asleep. Emma continued reading her book, engrossed in the character developments her friend August had intricately woven into his story.

"Oh, Henry," Killian said, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, "look at that view. You can see the plane's shadow on the clouds beneath us."

Henry took off his headphones and looked out the window.

"Woah!" Henry said, loud enough that Emma looked over as well- and she did so to see Henry throwing her phone and his headphones on the floor.

"Henry!" Emma said, reaching over to pick them up off the floor- which was difficult, with her seatbelt still buckled.

Apparently, Emma wasn't the only one who had a problem with seatbelts, because she looked back up to see Henry had unfastened his, and was now climbing onto Kilian's lap to get a better view out the window.

She was about to stop him, but she was taken aback by how Killian responded- after an initial second of confusion, he put a hand on Henry's shoulder in case of unexpected turbulence, then pointed out the shadow of the plane, and a few other notable clouds next to them, talking with the boy like he wasn't an outgoing child who'd just overstepped his bounds, but almost like an equal, one who'd done nothing wrong as well.

Something about the scene, and how the boys interacted, looked to Emma like something out of a storybook, or like the picture you'd find in the dictionary if you looked up the word "father."

Then, Killian helped Henry off his knee and back into his own seat, and rebuckled him, reminding him that while the plane was in the air, it was probably a good idea to keep your seatbelt on and stay in your own seat.

"I am so sorry about that," Emma said, then put a hand on Henry's shoulder, "Henry, you need to respect other people's space."

"No worries, Emma," Killian said, "it's the price of having a window seat, I suppose."

He didn't seem at all as embarrassed or annoyed with the entire ordeal as Emma was- and he then turned to Henry and added, "but not all strangers like it when other people get too close to them, Henry. It's a good idea to keep your distance from strangers."

"But you're not a stranger anymore!" Henry insisted, "I think you're my friend."

"Aye," Killian smiled, "I suppose I am."

"If you come to my house sometime," Henry said, "you can play in my fort with me. I can show you my Legos too!"

"If I ever do come to your house," Killian said, slowly, his words carefully selected, "I'd love to see your Lego sets."

"I just got a really cool Star Wars set," Henry said, "it has Luke Skywalker, and his X-Wing, and Artoo Detoo!"

"That sounds awesome, Henry," he said, "I hope I get to see it someday."

"Oh yeah," Henry said, "It's really cool."

"You know, I had some pretty cool Lego Star Wars sets back in the day too," Killian said.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." Killian said, "I had this one set…"

As Emma watched Killian and her son talk about Lego Star Wars sets, she put away Henry's headphones and swiped out of the movie on her phone, sensing Henry might be entertained for the rest of the flight with his new friend.

Henry wasn't the only one entertained by Killian, though Emma's interest in him was for an entirely different reason.

Henry's father had left shortly after Emma's pregnancy, not ready for the commitment of raising a family. After that, Emma had decided that all she needed was herself and her son. Between finding her job and raising her son, she hadn't had time for a boyfriend anyways, at least that's the excuse she used when her friends asked why she'd never gotten back out there.

But deep down, Emma knew part of the reason she'd stayed single was Henry- any boyfriend for her was a potential father for Henry, and as rare as it was for her to find a date, it was harder to find a date who was comfortable with kids- and soon she gave up on dates altogether.

She and Henry had always been content just to have each other- but as she watched her son talk with this man about Star Wars, Legos, and pirates together, she realized how much both she and her son would benefit from a guy like him in their life.

As they walked off the plane, Emma and Henry stayed close to Killian, Henry still chatting away with him the whole time.

"Alright, Henry," Emma said, once they got back into the terminal, "I think it's time to say goodbye to Killian."

"Already?" Henry asked.

"I'm afraid so," Emma said.

Killian got down on his knees at Henry's eye level.

"It was a pleasure flying with you, Henry," Killian said, "I hope I see you again sometime."

"Me too!" Henry said.

Killian held out his hand to shake hands with Henry, but instead Henry ran to his arms and gave him a hug. Killian looked up at Emma for her approval, and she nodded, so he returned Henry's hug.

Once Killian stood back up, he held a hand out shake with Emma, and she half desired to respond the same way her son had. Instead, she took his hand and shook it.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Killian," Emma said.

"The pleasure was mine, milady," he said, and he then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I didn't know you were so old fashioned," Emma said, in a voice that said that wasn't a problem at all.

"I hope to see you again sometime?" he asked, letting go of your hand.

"Yeah," Emma smiled.

"Will you wanna come to my grampa's birthday party?" Henry interrupted.

Killian and Emma's eyes met, like the meeting between old friends.

"I don't believe I've been formally invited," Killian said, more like a question than an answer.

"I could send you the details," Emma nodded, "if I had your number."

"Yeah," Killian said, "I might be able to find time, uh, here."

He handed her his phone, open to the contacts app. Emma quickly typed in her phone number and handed it back to him, and she handed him her phone too.

"I'll text you later," she said, their fingers brushing against each other as she took her phone back from him.

"Aye," he said, "Can't wait."

"I'm really glad to have met you." Emma said.

"Me too," Killian said.

"Me too!" Henry said, "See you soon!"

Emma took Henry's hand again, glancing back at Killian quite a few times as they headed their separate ways.

"Mommy?" Henry asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Killian friends now?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma said, a smile spreading across her face, "I think we are."

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #captain cobra swan #captain cobra #swan believer #once upon a time fanficton #cs ff #cs fanfiction #once upon a time season 3

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