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definitelysel · 4 months

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MELUSINES ON THE MISSION

pairing: neuvilette x reader

synopsis: he takes you to Merusea Village for his birthday as a friend, leaves the village with you as his significant other. All thanks to some wingwomen- no melusines.

contains : reader is a baker by profession, fluff, wingwomen melusines, whipped, lovesick neuvilette, mutual pining, corny, neuvillette can deal with anything expect romantic feelings and gestures, spoilers for 4.2 story quest, references to his birthday letter.

a/n : happy birthday to best boi neuvi. he is deffo a lovesick dude and you can't change my mind.

sequel of this fic , but can be read as a stand alone.

Neuvillette stared at the calender, eyebrows knitted together, pen twirling in his slender fingers.

"Should it be in spring? No that would be inconvenient...same holds true for autumn." He grumbled.

"My Dear Ludex, What's got you so tensed?" Furina chimed in, taking a glance at calender.

"I am trying to settle on a day to serve the purpose of being my birthday." Neuvillette sighed. If only he remembered the actual date. Furina took the pen from his hand and randomly circled a date without sparing a glance.

"18th of December? Why so?"

"My dear Ludex, this is such a trivial matter! Don't waste your energy on this. We must save it for the thrills of the court!" She patted his shoulder and walked off.

18th Decemeber.

That was today.

Neuvillette recalled while signing some documents he had received this morning. He finished up his work and turned around to arrange all the files and declutter the cabinets.

When he glanced back, he saw a small gift on the edge of this table. A smile crept up onto his face as he peeked a bit further to see the head of a melusine sticking out.

"You can stop hiding." He mused as the melusine slowly revealed themselves. Slowly but surely more melusines emerged out of their hiding spots.

"Happy Birthday Monsieur Neuvillette!" They all cheered as Neuvillette had a hearty laugh. The strict and straightforward Chief Justice had a soft spot for the adorable creatures and went to lengths to assure their safety.

"Thank you all. I appreciate your kind gesture." He smiled and picked up the small gift delicately and unwrapped the present. His ears could pick up the melusines muttered amongst themselves.

"...ask him."

"No you ask him!"

"Ask me what?" Neuvillette looked up to see the pleading faces of the Melusines. Yup, they were most definitely trying to persuade him into agreeing to something and Neuvillette knew he couldn't refuse.

"Will you come to Merusea Village this time?" They asked but it sounded more of a demand than a question.

Neuvillette paused. Of course they would ask that. He hadn't visited last year due to the chaos in Fontaine and the death of Focalors. He couldn't bring himself to celebrate his birthday after her death. This time, he agreed on it.

"Sure. I will make sure to extricate myself of my duties and come to Merusea Village." He reassured the Melusines, who bounced up and down in excitement before scurrying out of his office.

Neuvillette sat down and began making preparations so that he could depart worry-free to Merusea Village without any problems arising.

He found his thoughts drifting towards you. A promise he had made you a month ago.

"My schedule is full for the following month. However, I will be sure to pay you a visit after that." He recalled his words to you. Neuvillette had now made up his mind. He was going to take you with him to Merusea Village for his birthday and let all the melusines meet you.

He couldn't help but long for that queasy feeling with stirred in his chest everytime he was in your proximity. He would feel jittery and his palms would feel clammy and sweaty everytime he saw your beaming smile and witty remarks that never ceased to amaze him.

Well that was easier said than done.

"Would like to accompany me to Merusea Village?" He said before facepalming. "No that would be too straightforward...I might sound authoritative and I don't wish to given off that impression..." Neuvillette had been pacing back and forth in front of the bakery and had been rehearsing the past 15 minutes.

He remained apathetic towards the people who would gasp and mutter at the sight of the Chief Justice's unannounced appearance. "Hello, it is my birthday today and I would like you to accompany me to Merusea Village." Neuvillette said before groaning in annoyance.

"No..if I were to straight away declare that it is my birthday then, it would sound self-centered of me." He muttered, his hand on his chin. "Ah, Yes. Greetings, it has been a long time since we last met. According to our public pronouncements, it is my birthday today and since I take out time each year to visit Merusea Village, I would love for you to accompany m–

"It's your birthday?" You gasped, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. You could see him tense up before turning around and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh erm- yes." He fake coughed to compose himself again. "You should've told me, Monsieur! I would've prepared you a special cake!" You suggested. It would've made up for a good and genuine gift.

"No need for it. I was wondering if you would accompany me–"

"To some place you visit every year on your birthday? Sure! I was just finishing closing up the shop for the weekend, so yes I can accompany you!" You chimed at him. Spending time with Neuvillette, that too on his birthday!? Now that was opportunity you weren't letting go.

You weren't going to admit that you had taken interest in him and wanted to get opportunities to get to know him better but since he was a busy man, this was a perfect opportunity!

"Then let's leave, shall we?" He offered his gloved hand to you. You reached out to take it but he retracted his hand back and instead gestured in the direction you had to walk towards.

You could see his ears turn pink as he started to walk away. You were about to hold his hand? Then why did he back away?? Right someone as high and mighty as the Chief Justice won't settle for a ordinary baker–

You shook your thoughts away and followed him.

"Monseiur Neuvillette is here!" The Melusines erupted into cheers and circled around him. You could see him smile and pat their heads. Neuvillette's smile had swept your heart off its feet. Your heart swoll at the sight of him smiling, heartily laughing at the swarm of Melusines. Dare you say, you were trying to stop your face from turning red.

"Everyone, meet [Name]. They are my friend and I presumed you would all love to meet them." He gestured towards you as the little melusine heads turned towards you, judgingly.

"Um- hello." You awkwardly smiled. The Melusines seemed to have marked you off their suspicion list considering they had now dragged you away to indulge in their silly activities.

Chasing other melusines, laughing with them, sitting around the bonfire, making flower crowns, it seems like you had a whole new world. You took the crown to Neuvillette. "Monseiur Neuvillette! Look!" You ran up to him as he turned towards you, with a smile lingering on his face.

"Is that a flower crown?" He mused, inspecting the bundle of flowers. You nodded and reached up to put it on his head. However, as you were putting it on his head, you both found yourselves gazing at eachother, fondly.

His eyes said so much despite his face showing so little. You two were unaware of the conversation between the melusines in the background.

"Oui oui! Monsieur Neuvillette definitely likes her!"

"Oui! You are so right, he looks at her in a certain way!"

"Should we help him?"

"Yes!" They all agreed.

"Monseiur Neuvillette! [Name]!" All of them yelled. You and Neuvillette snap out of it and turn your faces away, both of your cheeks flushing a shade of red.

"You guys should stay for a bit longer!" The Melusines tugged on your clothes and his robe. Eyes widen like puppies. Now how could you refuse to those cute faces.

"Sure! I would love too. It is the weekend anyways." You nodded and Neuvillette also agreed.

Now the plan was in full swing.

Neuvillette went inside the accommodation the melusines had prepared. He walked over to the desk and spotted a neatly kept letter.

Dear Neuvillette,

I wish to tell you that you are really pretty and I find you interesting. I can't seem to find the courage to express it though.

Sincerely,

[Name]

His face flushed red as he did a double take, flipping the letter to assess its legitimacy. The Melusines peeped through the small window, seeing his reaction.

"He is blushing!" One whispered.

"Huh? I never thought those cheesy and corny sentences would actually make him all flushed." Another marveled

"I tried my best okay? It's hard to act like that girl considering we just met her." The third nudged the other.

"You think sending them fake letters is going to work?" The fourth asked.

"Duh!" The first 3 yelled at him.

You, on the hand, were reading the letter given to you over and over again.

Dear [Name],

You seem to have captured my thoughts. I find myself thinking about you every passing moment. However, I don't mind this feeling.

Sincerely,

Neuvillette.

You giggled like a high-schooler with a big fat crush on a ficitional guy. Who knew the Chief Justice was so lovey-dovey! How endearing.

"The plan worked!" The first melusine beamed.

"Both of them hopeless." 2nd one sighed.

"Hopelessly in love!" 3rd one snickered.

"Let's wait and watch." The 4th reminded.

The next day, you both were busy with groups of Melusines, chatting and playing yet both of you kept catching glances at eachother and looked away in embarrassment.

The Melusines rejoiced in their plan of fake letters to both of you, working. This kept on going. Both of you would find a letter in your room each time you came to freshen up or rest.

You and Neuvillette found yourselves blushing and feeling clammy at the letters, unaware of the true sender of these letters, until...

Meet me by the lake, 9pm.

As planned, both of you reached the lake, looking around to find the other. When you caught sight of Neuvillette, your breath was taken away. His white hair framed his fair perfectly and his eyes shined in the moonlight.

"Hello.." you started.

"Hello to you too." He replied. Well this is awkward.

"So um..do you truly believe I am- uh pretty as you mentioned in the letter?" Neuvillette asked, refusing to make eye contact. How fascinating that a man of status and authority is reduced to a flustered mush infront of the person he wishes to be with.

"Huh- what letter? I don't remember sending you a letter." You tilted your head in confusion. You received letters but you never wrote any reply back.

Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Then who sent- oh. The melusines.." he sighed, pinching his nose. "I am so sorry for the inconvenience." He apologized.

"Oh.." you sounded disappointed. So it was a lie then? Neuvillette said any of those sweet words which you had read in the letters. You could feel your heart break and chest ache. How did you manage to fall into this rabbit hole of loving the Ludex of Fontaine only to have your hopes crushed.

"What did they write in the letters given to you?" He calmly asked after a brief moment of silence.

"They said that you kept thinking about me and how you liked me and didn't mind the feeling...it is fine though! I am glad it is a lie hahaha." You waved your hands dismissively.

"..it is true." He blurted out. In his mind, it was now or never.

"Huh?" You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"It is true. I am indeed infatuated with you." You could visibly see his face flush pink. After your brain computed the information, you also turned red.

"I- I feel the same-..I always thought that I was too plain and simple for your liking.." you awkwardly muttered.

"No. It may be inappropriate of me to say this but..I believe that you are just perfect. You are perfect the very way you are, [Name]." The words effortlessly rolled off his tongue, though his flustered face told another story.

You hugged him without a warning, nuzzling your face into his chest. The hug felt warm, like the ocean hugging you with their waves as the sun dawned its warmth on your skin. Neuvillette wrapped his arms around you. You could hear his heart thundering against his chest.

"You like me that much huh?" You wriggled your eyebrows, with a teasing grin.

"Let's not bring that matter up." He huffed, trying to maintain his calm and composed composure. Oh he definitely was feeling giddy but why admit it?

"We will miss you!" The Melusines whined and fake cried, clinging to your legs as Neuvillette chuckled.

"Well, let's leave, shall we? It is a long walk back." He asked you, a soft smile on his face, his smile lines crinkling. Oh Archons! If only you had a Kamera on you.

"Mhm!" You nodded. He, again offered you his gloved hand, which you took into yours as you both started your journey back.

This time he didn't back away. Instead, he took your hand firmly in his and walked away, together, with you by his side.

a/n : happy birthday dear Neuvillette. Gosh i love this man so much, it's unhealthy. I can listen to him talk for hours about different tastes of water.

not proof read.

don't copy, plagiarize, repost.

©definitelysel

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #fontaine #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #neuvillete x reader

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stardads · 4 months

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The Mandalorian season 2 finale "The Return" aired on the 18th of December 2020 marking its third year anniversary today. We got the iconic scene of Din Djarin and Luke Skywalker meeting for the very first time in canon, and more than 3000 DinLuke fan works have been inspired since then 🔥🔥🔥

#star wars #the mandalorian #dinluke #din x luke #luke x din #din djarin x luke skywalker #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #tbobf #the book of boba fett #lukedin #ao3 #archive of our own #star dads content #star dads

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taeghi · 2 years

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bets are meant to be won - masterlist

— summary : jake, jay and sunghoon have been friends for so long that they have everything in common- they even like the same girl! they aren't sure who initially started the bet on which one of them could get you to fall for them first- but they do know that they will stop at nothing to make sure one of them wins. how will you manage to pick just one of them?

— updated : december 6th 2022

message/comment to be put on the taglist! <3

0. PROLOGUE release date : friday august 12, 2022 @ 10pm EST

— jay takes the lead (HIS PROFILE) ➤ summary : smart boy jay wants to take his turn first by inviting you over to his house to study, he'll show you how much of a good girl you are for studying so well, and hopefully, you'll take his compliments to the heart.

➤ jay+reader | smut, fluff?, PWP | includes praise, spanking, oral, handjob, protected sex.

➤ word count : 12k

release date : sunday, september 18th 2022, @ 10pm EST

bet?

— you complete mess (HIS PROFILE) ➤ summary : sunghoon, the co-captain of the rugby team is cocky and confident- almost too cocky and confident. you want to bring his ego down a little bit before you go any further. will this make sunghoon lose the bet, or is it just to more of his advantage?

➤ sunghoon+reader | smut, angst, PWP | includes degradation, choking, spiting

release date : sunday, october 16th, 2022 @ 10pm EST

bet?

— change up! (HIS PROFILE) ➤ summary : you haven't hung out with your childhood friend jake in a while; thankfully, your parents feel the same and invite his family over for dinner. you two will just stick to the same pg activities when you bring him up to your bedroom unless...

➤ jake+reader | smut, angst, fluff, PWP | includes : degradation, breath play? (he covers y/n's mouth), more tbd

release date : sunday, november 20th, 2022 @ 10pm EST

bet?

— parts left to meet ➤ summary : their secret bet is revealed, and now it's time for you to pick the winner, but don't worry, they'll help you decide with one final act.

➤ jake+sunghoon+jay x reader | smut, fluff, angst, PWP | includes : foursomes obvi

release date : december 4th, 2022

bet?

#enhypen smut #jake smut #jay smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #masterlist #02z

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boldlyvoid · 5 months

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Ficmas 2023 Masterlist

December 14th - Waiting Rooms (Hotch x Fem Reader)

Summary: JJ goes into labour with her second baby, on Christmas Eve. Aaron and Emily are the only two still in town, they rush to the hospital to support her where Aaron meets a lovely woman who's friend is also giving birth that same night.

December 15th - Christmas Cookies (Spencer x Single mom!Reader)

Summary: Spencer's neighbour gives him a plate of whatever she makes her family for dinner most nights. When he comes home to see smoke bellowing out of her kitchen window, the last thing on his mind is some burnt parchment paper under her Christmas cookies.

December 16th - December 16th, 1986 (steddie fic)

Summary: It took 8 months, but Steve's parents finally sold their house... and Steve has no idea where he's going to live now.

December 17th - Snowed In (Hotch x Fem Reader)

Summary: what happens when you're the last two in the office on Christmas Eve and the roads are closed due to an unexpected blizzard?

December 18th - Home Alone (Hotch x Male Reader)

Summary: it's Aaron's first Christmas with Jack away at college.

December 19th - Neighbourhood Beauty (Spencer x Fem Reader)

Summary: Penelope is hosting Christmas at her apartment this year, she invites everyone... Including her new neighbour, who is exactly Spencer's type.

December 20th - Dear Santa (Hotch x Fem Reader)

Summary: Jack's wishlist this year only consists of one thing. He wants Y/N to be his step-mom.

December 21st - Little White Lies (Hotch x Fem Reader)

Summary: Readers sister is having an Engagement/Christmas party this year and her cousin will be there. With her new fiance. Who is reader's ex. The only logical thing to do is to show up with her own new boyfriend... who isn't really her boyfriend. He's her boss.

December 22nd - Come Together (Hotch x Fem Reader)

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

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gingiesworld · 6 months

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Gingie’s 12 Days Of Christmas Event!!!

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth

Gingie’s 12 Days Of Christmas Event

AN: Hey guys, I have made some changes to the event, changed some of the fics I will be posting. Also please remember this is an 18+ blog so please no Under 18's interact or you will be blocked.

13th Dec: Rocking Around The Christmas Tree

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Reader and Wanda spend a quiet Christmas together at the compound whilst everyone is spending it with their families. Showing Wanda how they spend Christmas as it is her 1st.

14th Dec: Last Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader

The year before, the reader was left heartbroken as their ex left them for the person they didn’t need to worry about. But as Tony hosts his yearly party, they realise that the person they’re supposed to be with was beside them all this time.

15th Dec: If We Make It Through December

Maria Hill x GN! Reader

The relationship between Maria and reader started off rocky. Reader was being sent on a mission over the holiday period, leaving the couple to worry about their relationship. Will they make it?

16th Dec: Unexpected Christmas

Gerri Fields x GN! Reader

Gerri had been getting pestered by her parents about her love life since leaving for college, so she asked reader if they would accompany her to her family christmas, not realising that hidden feelings will come forth as she overhears a conversation between her father and reader

17th Dec: Baby It’s Cold Outside

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Wanda and reader have had a FWB kind of relationship, so one night she gets ready to leave Y/N’s house, seeing the snow coming down, although it breaks both of their hearts little by little every time she leaves, reader uses this opportunity to show her she means more to them than she knows.

18th Dec: I Don’t Want To Spend One More Christmas Without You

Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader

Last Christmas, Nat was stuck on a mission with Steve, leaving Y/N alone at the compound to not celebrate. As Christmas time arrives, Nat gets called up for a mission, breaking Y/N’s heart. But she surprises them Christmas Eve

19th Dec: Dancing In The Snow

Jane Banner x GN! Reader

Jane shares a very special Christmas with Y/N, showing them how she spent Christmas with her parents as a child.

20th Dec: Tis The Season

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Tis the season to be jolly. But what happens in the small town of Westview during this time of year? Especially when the first born child is being taken.

21st Dec: Kiss Me

Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader

After an argument between Y/N and Tony happens at a party. Y/N leaves the Avengers only to receive a surprise revelation from Nat

22nd Dec: Meet Me Underneath The Tree

Leigh Shaw x GN! Reader

Y/N had been the first real relationship Leigh has had since losing Matt, even after her fling with Danny. Y/N knew after a couple of years being with Leigh, remaining by her side through all of her ups and downs, they knew she was the one they wanted to spend their life with.

23rd: Dec: We’re Family

Blackhill x Teen GN! Reader / Teen Wanda Maximoff x Teen GN! Reader

Y/N had been found at one of the Hydra facilities the avengers. Being an experiment, they bonded with the twins over their shared trauma. Although, they kept having their doubts, thinking that this was all a dream

24th Dec: I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Wanda is worried about the reader keeping their promise, since they were placed on a 6 month long undercover mission. Especially since she had realised her feelings for them. The two had been best friends since she came to the compound, but as the time went on they spent together, she had started to feel more for them.

25th Dec: T Swift Xmas Special

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff au #natasha marvel #carol danvers #maria hill x reader

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ladystarksneedle · 4 months

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Cherries and Wine

A/N: For @hotd-bigbang

Prompt: December 18th - Hoarfrost | Hibernate | Holly

Wrote a little holiday drabble with a twist on the words. Happy holidays to everyone, hope you enjoy🌹

Word count: 200

Dividers by @saradika

Next>

She feels his eye on her as she pops another one in her mouth swirling her tongue around the plump fruit before plucking its stem from her lips. Her throat feels unnaturally dry as she swallows, meeting his gaze unabashedly. He stares at her unblinking, fingers drumming against the wood, eye alight with an unspoken challenge. Their little game of back and forth has been going on since the start of the winter feast. The wreaths decorating the spread ahead of her mock her coquettish insolence as the crowd chatters oblivious to the wild thrumming of her heart. He angles his head towards her, swirling his chalice before taking a sip of the red, staining his lips with ardour, a gesture of recognition and chivalry to an onlooker but she knows it not to be so. She feels a thrill jolt down her spine as the ice in his gaze thaws and reignites into something more. As the toasts are made and the voices grow louder she can feel the familiar tingle of excitement spread through her, burning with his acknowledgement and with the hour of the bat approaching she knows she'll find a capricious cave to sate her appetite soon.

(A little moodboard song inspo)

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy @paprikaquinn

#house of the dragon #hotd winter prompts 23 #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond fics #zae's fics #hotd fic #aemond imagine #hotd imagine

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alisonwritesimagines · 10 months

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Back to December ~Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagine~

Summary: Simon and you meet up at a café when you come to visit England.

Author’s Note: I just thought of this while listening to Back to December in the car.

Song: Back to December (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: light angst, fluff in the end, unexpected pregnancy, vulnerable Simon

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

I'm so glad you made time to see me How's life? Tell me, how's your family? I haven't seen them in a while You've been good, busier than ever We small talk, work and the weather Your guard is up and I know why

Hey. I'm visiting England with my family if you want to meet up if you're on leave right now. - Y/N

That was the first thing you've said to him in a year. Simon stared at the screen on his phone as he leaned back against his couch. Should he go visit you? Fuck it.

He messaged you on where you wanted to meet up before getting on the train to go to you. Luckily, you told him the name of the pub you wanted to meet at that was near your hotel.

Once Simon got to the nearest pub near your hotel, he sat in a booth in the corner. He eyed the door as he waited for you to come through. You walked through the door, scanning the area before finding Simon in the corner. You smiled before walking over towards him.

"Hi. Hope you weren't waiting long," you tell him as you sat in front of him.

"Not at all."

"I'm glad you said yes to meeting with me," you tell him.

"Me too. How's your team going?" Simon asked. He hasn't seen them since the 141 teamed up with them for a mission. The same mission where he had broken it up with you.

"They're good. Still doing good. The weather here is interesting," you tell him. Simon couldn't blame your stupid small talk. After all, he had hurt your heart pretty bad.

Because the last time you saw me Is still burned in the back of your mind You gave me roses and I left them there to die

The last time you saw Simon, it wasn't a pretty picture.

"Why won't you come with me to America for the holidays? My parents and my siblings would love to meet you," you tell him.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to go with you love."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

Simon stared at you with a sad look. He didn't want to lose you. He didn't want to see you hurt. No matter how many times you've proven to him that you're more than capable on handling yourself, he couldn't lose you like how he lost his family.

"Because I don't think this is working out. I'm sorry."

"Simon-"

"I think it's best if we just end this," Simon told you.

"So after everything we've done and been through, this is just it? You're just ending it like this?" You asked heartbroken.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. It's for the best," Simon said before walking away.

Simon didn't even say sorry or say his goodbye to you when you and your team left to go back to your main base. You looked for him one last time before getting on the plane to head back. Simon watched from afar as your plane left making him turn back around to go back to being the cold lieutenant he was before you came along.

When Simon came back to his room, he found a rose on his desk with a small note.

If you change your mind, here's my address. I'll be home on December 18th. - Y/n

So this is me swallowin' my pride Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night And I go back to December all the time It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright I go back to December all the time

"I want to apologize about what happened that night," Simon told you.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I thought I was protecting you, but turns out I just hurt you and I ended up missing you."

"Then why didn't you come over for the holidays with me if you missed me?"

"Thought I was doing the right thing."

"Is the terrifying Lieutenant Ghost Riley admitting that he misses me?" You tease slightly to ease the tension.

"More like apologizing for that night."

These days, I haven't been sleepin' Stayin' up playin' back myself leavin' When your birthday passed and I didn't call Then I think about summer, all the beautiful times I watched you laughin' from the passenger's side And realized I loved you in the fall And then the cold came, the dark days When fear crept into my mind You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You moved over to the side of the table where Simon was sitting at. You were two drinks in and leaning against him while he had an arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him like he used to before.

"You could've just told me the truth," you tell him.

"You know me. Don't know how to process my feelings correctly," Simon tells you.

"When did you realize that you liked me a little too much?" You asked.

"You mean when I realized when I loved you?" Simon asked. You looked up at him and nodded.

"The second to last time I saw you. Around October."

"That mission really gave us an opportunity to let us fall for one another huh?" You asked.

"Yeah."

The amount of times your team and the 141 had crossed gave you and Simon many opportunities to get to know each other more. Which ultimately lead to your heartbreak.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile So good to me, so right And how you held me in your arms that September night The first time you ever saw me cry Maybe this is wishful thinkin' Probably mindless dreamin' But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't So if the chain is on your door, I understand

"It's getting a little late," you tell him.

"I'll walk you back," Simon told you. You nodded as you got out of the booth. Simon paid for the drinks before the two of you started to walk over to your hotel.

"You never told me why you wanted to see me," Simon told you.

"Oh! I can't believe I forgot! It was something important but I guess I got caught up with us," you tell him.

"What is it?" Simon asked.

"It's best if I show you," you tell him as you lead him back to your hotel.

You lead him to your room where your sister was playing with your daughter. Simon stared at the child as she looked a lot like you and him.

"Sorry for taking a little longer. Y/s/n, this is an old coworker of mine. Simon, this is my sister," you introduced.

"Nice to meet you," Simon said, giving her a nod.

"No worries. I'm going to get some sleep. See you tomorrow. Nice meeting you Simon," your sister said as she handed you your daughter to you.

"Bye," you said as you locked the door behind her.

Simon stood where he was as he stared at you with the baby girl in your arms. You nervously walked back to him with a shy smile.

"Simon, this is your daughter," you introduced.

Simon's eyes widen as he stared at her. He looked back at you before looking back at her. He quickly took off his mask as he stared down at her.

"I found out a little after our last mission. I asked Price for your number when I got here," you tell him.

Simon caressed his daughter's cheek a little, making her stare up at him with a smile. She giggled at him as she reached for his hand which he gladly let her take.

"I'm sorry. If I could go back in time, I wouldn't have hurt you-"

"Simon. It's okay. I forgive you. I just wanted you to meet Sophie."

"Sophie? That's her name?"

"Yeah. Do you want to hold her?" You asked.

"Will she be okay with that?" Simon asked.

"She seems to like you already."

You handed her to Simon who smiled down at her. He looked over at you as you leaned against the wall.

"Do you think it's too late for me to ask for one more chance?" Simon asked you. You shook your head at him as he got closer to you.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to you two. I swear on it," Simon tells you.

"I know you won't," you smile at him.

When you put Sophie to bed, you lied on bed with Simon as he held you tightly in his arms.

"Thank you for giving me another chance," Simon said.

"I love you Simon."

"I love you too," Simon said before leaning in to kiss you.

"Would you think about coming with us back to America?" I asked him.

"Darling, I'll follow the two of you wherever you two go," Simon tells you before kissing you once more.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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loudblonde · 9 months

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"A Pretty Bird in a Gilded Cage" John Price x Male Reader

summary: (Y/N) Price, aka Birdie, an ex-MI6 intelligence officer turned spy on British soil gets kidnapped by Makarov's men, all his life falls apart as Makarov has him tortured simply to get revenge on his husband.

warnings: torture, violence, allusion to rape(throw away line it doesn't actually happen,) angst with a happy ending

word count: 2,2K

December 10th, the room was freezing cold and damp, water dripped down the walls as mildew and mould alike grew in the corners, being in this abandoned hellhole was sure to make anyone sick. (Y/N) tested the bonds on the wooden plank he was tied to, they were not giving away enough leeway for them to have underestimated him though he didn’t have a guard on him so they obviously only knew the official story. Retired and injured intelligence officer.

Many people meeting (Y/N) for the first time formed 3 opinions, that he was handsome, that he was capable and that he had Captain John Price fully wrapped around his finger. It was no secret that the not-very-hidden, retired intelligence officer for MI6, was the proud and semi-supportive husband of Captain John Price.

Many people around base knew him as “The Only Man Capable of Making the Captain Relax” or rather, househusband, though what many people, including John Price himself, didn’t know, is that (Y/N) is not retired, he is still very much so active, just not in MI6, instead he works close to the ground as a priced horse, waiting to get kidnapped which had happened two times while Price was away, after all, he had many enemies.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairway, and the light bulb hanging a meter from his face turned on, blinding him. By the sound of it, 4 people entered the room, 3 heavy sets with boots on, probably soldiers the size of Simon, if not a little smaller, and one person wearing business shoes. (Y/N) turned his head and looked at them through squinted eyes. “Whatever you want, I won’t give it to you,” He said.

(Y/N) sighed in his restraints, clearly, he was going to be here for a while. There was no window that hadn’t been painted over, letting no light in, it was hard to tell what was day and night but he hadn’t been here for long, he had counted 9 hours so far.

Laswell had either yet to notice the tracker being activated or she was in the middle of an operation that required her focus. (Y/N) didn’t doubt that last one, he knew John was on a mission away, he probably wouldn’t be home for another month or so, maybe more.

“Oh, we aren’t the ones with questions, Birdie.” The man’s heavy Russian accent spilt through, causing (Y/N) to roll his eyes. “But we are here to pretty you up for the pictures we are about to take, your husband will want to know what you look like.” (Y/N) felt a fist hit his stomach, and all the air was knocked out of his lungs, he gasped for breath at the same time a wet cloth was thrown over his face followed by water. “We were told to be… creative with the prettying.”

December 11th, everything was sore, bruised and bloodied. His whole body hurt and he was pretty certain he didn’t have any internal bleeding. He was left alone, his stomach growled for food but he held on.

December 15th, he finally got food, but they were on a jet someplace, they didn’t speak to him the entire time. Everything still hurt but he managed to keep calm. Laswell crackled to life in his ear. “Are you alive?”

(Y/N) grunted out once, meaning yes.

“Good, when you land, gather information, we are already decrypting everything the linefeed is sending over.” She said, her voice was a comforting niceness in the last few horrific days of torture. The com crackled again, signalling she had left.

December 18th, a cold and barren winter morning in the middle of the Siberian taiga forest, in one shitty run-down cold shack, (Y/N) was sitting tied to a chair just waiting for his captors to return, he needed to get information out of them, it would ultimately help his husbands team, these were their enemies.

An icy wind was tearing through the shack, threatening frost burnt appendages and pneumonia. The silence of the forest was torn apart by the sound of a helicopter above them. It landed, whipping wind against the shack, like the big bad wolf blowing down the house of the pigs, (Y/N) wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay without risking his husband finding out.

Makarov was a true scumbag. (Y/N) knew in his heart that he wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of (Y/N) as soon as he was bored off him or he had had his fun. (Y/N) didn’t like either of those options. (Y/N) spit down at Makarov’s shoes though it seemed to only further the man's twisted amusement.

The door opened with a creak, it shuttered against the wall, the wood groaned and the metal creaked further. (Y/N) shivered at the frost-ridden air that entered, each set of feet crunching the snow that had blown into the shack through the cracks of the wood. His hood was ripped off, alongside some hair and (Y/N) stood face to face with Vladimir Makarov.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the dramatic entrance of the man. “Doing your dirty work all by yourself?” He knew that he should be scared but he didn’t want a man such as Makarov to see his fear.

“For one such as you, yes.” Makarov grabbed (Y/N)’s face and tilted it painfully up, the bones in his neck groaned and the muscles were pulled dangerously taunt, one quick knife and (Y/N) would be dead. “A pretty songbird in a gilded cage. You have such potential and yet… you fail to use it in any way. You were a world-class intelligence officer and now you are but an ant beneath my boot. Your husband has already noticed that you are here when he and his team rush here…” Makarov smirked.

“You plan on killing them in a trap? Use me as bait, that is cruel even for you.” (Y/N) growled out, he let fake hot anger rise up just enough to heat his skin. “You bastard!” (Y/N) hadn’t been sent undercover as many times as he had, without picking up a thing or two. Tears of disbelief and anger welled in his eyes and froze against his skin as they spilt. Shards of ice fell into his lap.

(Y/N) frowned, he needed to get out, these people were dangerous enough as is, they shouldn’t have a hostage for any more than needed. (Y/N) already had gained as much information from simply being close to them, all agents like him had a device embedded under the skin for long-distance download, it wasn’t the safest of experimental devices but (Y/N) was more than ready to do what he needed to do in order to keep the world safe, much like his husband he was no stranger to war crimes.

Makarov chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I plan on breaking your mind after they are dead, there is nothing better than having a pretty bird by my side. It would be the biggest disappointment to the Price legacy.”

He let go of his face, leaving behind red marks that would undoubtedly create bruises, it would be hard but not impossible to hide from Price. Makarov took one last look at him and walked outside the shack, a sickening smirk on his face the entire time. He slammed the door with enough brute force to make it hard to open it, the door locked in place.

A small voice in his ear crackled to light. “Need rescue?” It was Laswell’s voice. (Y/N) whispered a no close to his chest and leaned back in his restraints, the sound of a helicopter flying away signalled that Makarov went away again. (Y/N) counted every second until an hour went by, being sure to prepare himself enough. “Don’t attract attention when you leave, we don’t want them chasing you. We are trying to find an extraction point.”

(Y/N) undid the handcuffs with ease, getting out wasn’t as hard as one would think and untied himself. He glanced around outside the windows before snaking his way under the wood in the back. He escaped into the forest safely and didn’t stop running for an hour.

His lungs were on fire, and everything was bruised, beaten and hurt, he was expecting to at least come out of this with hypothermia and that was if he was lucky.

“Laswell, do I have an extraction point?”

“Yes.” A voice cackled in his ear, a much deeper voice that didn’t belong to a woman he considered his sister. It was Price. (Y/N) sighed with a groan. “Two more miles and we are ready to pick you up.” Price sounded pissed though also worried.

“Hello dear.” (Y/N) said, his voice wavering a bit. “I didn’t realise you were in the country.”

“I didn’t realise you have a habit of getting kidnapped in the middle of me being away on a mission.” Price said, considerably less angry.

(Y/N) held his ribs as he chuckled, it sent jabs of pain coursing through him, though he had had worse. “I try not to make it a habit but it’s hard when your husband has enemies. May as well take advantage of the fact I am capable of getting myself unkidnapped.” (Y/N) said as he made his way through the snow-filled area.

“Do you need a medic?” Price asked.

“Not immediately, I may have broken my ribs but other than that I hadn’t been tortured badly enough for me to be in any danger.” (Y/N) replied, his voice somewhat strained. “I can run without killing myself.”

“Yes, I saw that. When were you going to tell me that you hadn’t retired?” Price sounded hurt, clearly at the lack of trust.

(Y/N) sighed, his feet dragging in the snow. “Honey, you and I both know my security clearance will always be higher than yours, I was told to never tell anyone, not even you, ordered. Laswell is barely allowed to know and that is on the basis of her knowing you intimately.”

“Does this happen often?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head before realising his husband couldn’t see it. “No, not often. I think this is my third time. Though the hazard pay bump is to die for.” (Y/N) chuckled at his own joke, his husband didn’t.

“How much further?” Price asked, ignoring the dark joke, he was more worried about his husband surviving than laughing at a joke.

“A mile. I will contact you when I get near.” (Y/N) said and they both went silent.

A very brief reunion happened before John almost had an aneurysm. “We need a medic as soon as we land!” He said into a long-distance communicator. “Not hurt my ass!” He hauled (Y/N) into the yet and it took off. (Y/N) sighed in relief as he sank into comfortable seats.

“How long?” John asked as he brought over something to clean the cuts and blood away from him.

“Hm? What date is it?” (Y/N) asked, he was tired, starving and thirsty.

John sighed and started cleaning the wounds. “18th, but I meant, how long have you been doing this?”

“Ahhh, hmm, maybe 8 years now, since I recovered from my injury, mostly I just fuck around in Britain, spying on people there, making certain we aren’t going to succumb to infighting, fucking Tories are making my life a living hell though, all of them are so blatantly willing to become traitors if it meant keeping their wealth.” (Y/N) said. “But I was taken for 8 days this time. I don’t remember how much I have eaten.”

“We will get you checked over and then get you back on food… how have you been able to hide all of this from me?” John asked.

“Honestly, most of the time I am only there for 3 days, minimal torture and bruising, but without the support and with Laswell not present, I couldn’t risk escaping early on, they had no reason to kill me, Makarov wanted you dead and me as a glorified whore.”

John growled out in barely contained anger, his body tensed up at the thought of it. “I will kill him myself.”

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry your head about it, I am back, safe and your mission is already to kill him.”

“My mission doesn’t matter when he attacks my husband-“ John started, “-who is a very accomplished field agent who despite his career-ending injury still managed to end up being a total badass and escape one of the most dangerous groups of international terrorists right now.” (Y/N) ended, making John smile softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, old man.”

It took a total of 5 days before (Y/N) was allowed to leave the medical ward and another 3 for his husband to stop fussing but (Y/N) fully knew that only happened because he had been called out on a mission and when John returned near dead, (Y/N) was now the one fussing over him and making sure he was healed up nicely after the whole Makarov situation.

While John stayed employed for several years after this, the two eventually both retired, including (Y/N) properly this time, to a small homestead in the Scottish countryside, close to where McTavish and Riley retired too but far enough away to have peace and quiet.

And in the end, their last remaining family members buried them side by side where they would forever rest.

The End.

#cod x male reader #john price x male reader #captain john price x male reader #male reader #lgbt #gay #badass reader

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blurredcolour · 4 months

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I Wish You Love | Part One

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

Watching Miss Isobel encourage Lieutenant Nixon's affections only to ignore his letters as soon as he's deployed proves too much for you to bear.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Discussion of War Wounds, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4611

--------------------------

You had met Lewis Nixon first. On a misty morning in early December 1943 when The Honourable Isobel St John’s dog, Dash III, was yet again carelessly let out of the house by the naïve kitchen maid Else. The poor girl, freshly arrived from Austria, meant well, truly. But she simply did not seem to comprehend the vastness of Lydiard Park, nor the fact that a great portion of it had become off limits, requestioned by the 101st Airborne to construct a field hospital in anticipation of the invasion of France.

Wrapping a shawl around the shoulders of your black service dress, lace collar at your throat, you had forced yourself out into the damp chill, shoes crunching on the pea gravel path as you had called out for the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Miss Isobel thought quite highly of herself, typical middle child syndrome if one were being quite honest, and had kept a series of Cavalier’s named after Queen Victoria’s own – though she preferred the Blenheim colouring to the original’s tri-coloured coat. Of all the staff, and humans, at Lydiard House, Dash III was most likely to respond to you and so this task was one with which you were quite familiar.

What you had not expected to find was the missing canine squirming in the arms of a handsome American Lieutenant, desperately trying to lick at his striking jawline.

“Dash!” You had cried out at the state of his filthy coat, the majority of the white streaked with mud.

“That’s your name, then, is it?” The Lieutenant had smirked, a label bearing the last name of ‘Nixon’ stitched onto his uniform above his left breast pocket.

“Dash the third, Leftenant.” You had gulped roughly at the broad grin that had unfurled across his features at your British pronunciation of his rank.

“Dash the third. I am Lewis Nixon the third, what destiny we should meet.” Nixon had addressed the filthy dog fondly, prompting him to squirm in delight, smearing all manner of muck onto his uniform.

“I am terribly sorry for the trouble, sir, please allow me.” You had moved to take Dash from Nixon, but the gentle shake of his head had halted your movements.

“Not at all, miss, I’m assuming this rogue Dash belongs up at the house?” He had raised an eyebrow and you had nodded quickly. “Allow me then, my clothes are meant to get dirty.” He had tucked the dog under his arm more securely and began walking back with you. “I take it this is not Dash’s first great escape?”

You had shaken your head quickly, biting back a laugh. “Unfortunately not, Leftenant. I truly appreciate your help returning him to us. Miss Isobel will be relieved.”

“And how about you?” Nixon had inquired with a grin.

You had looked to your feet quickly, the expression only making him transition from good looking to dangerously handsome. “Grateful, of course, sir.”

“And is that what I should call you? Grateful? Is that her name, Dash?” He had looked down to the dog beneath his arm, earning a warm tongue along his cheek in response.

A laugh had escaped your lips before you had introduced yourself properly as the pair of you neared the 18th century Palladian style home. “Please follow me to the kitchen door, Leftenant, I’ll need to give Dash a bath before he is unleashed upon the household.”

Nixon’s appearance in the servants’ hall had caused quite a stir, earning him an introduction to the family upstairs upon which Miss Isobel had immediately set her eyes on him. The Honourable Isobel St John was a complicated woman and while you were the same age, born in 1918, your experiences and perceptions of the world could not have been more different. Third child of Viscount Bolingbroke, what she lacked in social standing she more than made up for in entitlement.

While her parents, Bertrand and Elizabeth St John were disappointed in her unwed state at the age of twenty-five, four years into the war it was more common than not. And it was not for any lack of suitors on Miss Isobel’s part. A veritable parade of uniformed men had joined the family at the simpler dinner parties they now hosted, particularly with their eldest child and only son taken prisoner by the Japanese so early in the war. With eldest daughter Gwendoline busily running her own household with two children, and youngest Rosamund off with the Auxiliary Territorial Service, Lydiard House was held hostage by the whims and desires of Miss Isobel. And through the winter of 1943 into spring 1944 that had been Lieutenant Lewis Nixon.

From the glimpses you caught of him whilst serving cocktails and dinner, the lack of footmen pressing housemaids such as yourself into service in unusual roles, and the starry-eyed descriptions provided by Miss Isobel herself as you helped her dress and undress before said gatherings, it seemed Lieutenant Nixon fit in quite well at an upper-class table. Naturally his duties prevented him from visiting every weekend, but he was present more often than not, and as the weather grew warmer, he and Miss Isobel would take long walks on the grounds still available to the St John family, Dash happily accompanying them on a leash.

Lieutenant Nixon was polite and friendly, greeting you with a familiar nod when you would fetch Dash for his meal as they were lounging beside the lake, or throwing you a smile as you would hold out his preferred whiskey on a silver tray before dinner. But you by no means expected his generosity that rainy Sunday in mid-April. Having taken the majority of the day off for your father’s birthday, you had seen to it that Miss Isobel was dressed and on her way to breakfast, before changing into a once-colourful dress of your own, frowning as the skies opened up.

Pulling on your Macintosh, you tucked your small gift into the inside pocket before dashing out to the garage to fetch your bicycle, heading down the gravel drive toward the road into town when Lieutenant Nixon’s covered jeep pulled up beside you.

“Where are you going in this deluge?!” He peered out at you, and you swallowed.

“Good morning, Leftenant. Headed into Swindon to see my father. You’ll find Miss Isobel in the breakfast room, sir.”

Your eyes widened as he put the jeep in park, the door swinging open before he dashed around to open the tail gate. “Put your bike the back, I’ll drive you.”

“But sir, I…” You trailed off as the jacket of his uniform was growing darker with rain by the moment and found yourself unable to argue at the expense of his clothing.

You quickly dismounted and surrendered your bicycle, trying not to stare too intently as he easily hoisted it into the back before ushering you into the passenger’s seat on the right side of the vehicle – the positioning utterly foreign, but you quickly dashed inside, sliding off your hood as he jogged back to the driver’s side.

“This is truly unnecessary, Leftenant, it’s out of your way and will only delay you.” You pleaded with him once he was back under the canvas cover.

He gave you his lopsided grin, shaking his head, scattering some raindrops from his garrison cap. “Izzy’ll not even notice, let her enjoy her cold toast.”

You bit your lip savagely, well aware of the degree to which Miss Isobel loathed that nickname, yet she never seemed to correct him on it. Executing a smooth three-point turn, he aimed the jeep back toward the main road and began to drive to Swindon. “How long does it take you to cycle there?”

“About twenty minutes, sir. It’s a nice ride on a dry day.” You undid the buttons on your Macintosh, overheating in the garment, and slid it open to reveal your dress.

Lieutenant Nixon’s glance in your direction, and quick double-take, had you smoothing the hem of it against your knees self-consciously. “I’m sorry, you look lovely, I’m just so used to seeing you in black and white it’s like we’ve landed in Oz and you’re suddenly in Technicolor over there.”

The analogy was so striking that you were completely taken aback. Laughter bubbled up from your throat as you shook your head and belatedly covered your mouth as he grinned broadly, seeming quite pleased with himself.

“So, you grew up in Swindon?” Nixon asked over the sound of rain pelting the roof and windshield and you nodded quickly.

“Yes, sir.” You swallowed, hands planted in your lap as you tugged at your fingertips nervously.

“Izzy tells me you have a brother fighting in Italy, is that right?”

You looked to him, startled to learn that you had ever been a topic of conversation between him and Miss Isobel. “I do, sir.”

“Is he older or younger than you?” He took his eyes off the road to meet yours briefly, seeming genuinely interested in your answer.

“Johnny is twelve minutes older, sir.”

“Twins?!” His wide, brown eyes flashed back to yours and you nodded with a soft laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve met a twin before…” He murmured thoughtfully. “And what does your father do?”

Swallowing nervously, you glanced out the window a moment to carefully formulate your answer. “He picks up work at the Swindon Railway Works.” You replied, leaving out the part that he only did so when he was physically well enough. The loss of his leg on the Somme was a wound that had never fully healed and nagged him more and more as he got older.

“Do you get to see him often?” He asked, making the turn into town easily as you shook your head sadly.

“Not as often as I should – it’s his birthday today, though, so I asked to take most of the day a few months ago.”

“Well, wish him a happy birthday for me, will you?” He smiled and you nodded before guiding him through the streets to the simpler, working-class neighbourhood where the one-bedroom flat you’d grown up in was located.

Lieutenant Nixon parked the jeep in front of the building and the pair of you hurried out into the rain to retrieve your bicycle from the back. You had just finished thanking him profusely when you turned to see your father standing in the doorway on his crutches, not wearing prosthetic leg. It was no surprise, actually, in weather like this he found the thing extremely uncomfortable.

A look of understanding crossed Lieutenant Nixon’s face and he insisted on walking you to the door, offering his hand to shake your father’s.

“Happy Birthday, sir.”

Your baffled father had shaken it in return with his thanks, completely taken aback by the American Lieutenant on his doorstep.

“Thank you again, Leftenant.”

“It was my pleasure, enjoy your afternoon off.” He smiled and dashed back to the car as you ushered your father inside, explaining everything as you helped him to his chair.

Mercifully, when it came time for you to return to Lydiard House for the evening, the rain had eased up and you were able to cycle back without getting soaked to the skin. As you came up the drive, you spotted Lieutenant Nixon and Miss Isobel walking arm in arm, heads bent toward one another as Dash walked alongside. You dismounted quickly, trying to be discrete, but the dog turned as soon as he caught your scent, barking happily in greeting.

“Ah, you’re back.” Miss Isobel said flatly.

“Good Evening Miss Isobel, Leftenant Ni–“

“Oh, don’t be so British, it’s Lieutenant.” Miss Isobel cut you off, tone rather condescending as she slipped the leash from the Lieutenant’s grasp and held it out toward you expectantly. “Will you take Dash inside for his meal? Then I’ll see you to change for dinner.”

You hurried to close the distance, pushing your bike along with you as you took the leash from her, Dash happily wending his way between your ankles in greeting. “Certainly, Miss.” You replied patiently before excusing yourself with a curtsy, leading the dog inside, finding it rather awkward to manage the bicycle as well but after nearly ten years of serving the St John family you knew better than to test Miss Isobel.

“I think it’s charming how she says it.” You bit the inside of your cheek savagely, trying not to overhear Lieutenant Nixon’s defense of your pronunciation, particularly when Miss Isobel replied in a sultry voice.

“I’ll tell you what’s charming…” The rest of her statement was mercifully out of the range of your hearing as you tucked your bicycle away in the garage.

As the calendar flipped to May, Lieutenant Nixon’s presence became less and less frequent at Lydiard and the ever-impatient Miss Isobel’s eye began to wander. It most certainly was not your place to have an opinion, or loyalties to any of her suitors, but the presence of a RAF pilot named Shore left a sour taste in your mouth.

It was early on June 7 when the first of Lieutenant Nixon’s letters to Miss Isobel arrived. Placing it on a silver tray, you took it up first thing in the morning when you went up to dress her for the day. It sat on her vanity, unopened still, when you changed her for dinner with Captain Shore, remained there while she flirted with him brightly through the meal, and was brushed into the dust bin as you undressed her for bed. “Oh, Miss I think you…”

“That will be all, good night.” She waved her hand dismissively and you frowned, excusing yourself with a nod before stepping out of the room.

Sitting heavily on your twin bed in the attic, the metal frame creaking in protest, your brow remained furrowed as all you could picture was Lieutenant Nixon’s caring face as he had listened attentively to your answers whilst going out of his way to drive you into town. He was a kind and considerate man, not to mention excruciatingly handsome, but now that he was out of sight, he was quite simply out of Miss Isobel’s mind. For all anyone knew he could be lying dead in France somewhere by now, the news of the invasion fresh in everyone’s mind, particularly the steep toll and tenuous hold.

“You keep making that face and it’ll get stuck like that.” Helen, your roommate chided warmly, and you blinked rapidly, shaking your head to clear it with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Just overthinking things, sorry Helen. Shall I get the light?”

With her agreement, you flicked the switch off at the wall and shuffled back to bed, sliding under the covers, mulling over the conundrum of the unopened letter upstairs. You would be emptying that dustbin tomorrow morning while Miss Isobel was at breakfast. Perhaps you should rescue it in case she changed her mind. Plan formulated, you were able to get some rest and later secured the correspondence, storing it in the bottom of your suitcase.

One week later, the second letter arrived, and you took it up to Miss Isobel hopefully.

“Oh, you can stop bringing these to me, I shan’t be taking up correspondence with him.” She muttered dismissively, not even taking the letter from the tray on which you presented it to her.

Your entire body went rigid for a moment, and it took a great summoning of strength to reply, “Yes, Miss.”

“And take Dash for an extra long walk, would you, he’s been positively listless the past few weeks and the weight of his gaze is quite a bore.” She sank in the vanity chair expectantly as you glanced over at the dog, lying forgotten on his plush, velvet bed, no longer of use to her as Captain Shore was allergic.

“Yes, Miss.” Your reply was perhaps terser than it ought to be, but to your good fortune, Miss Isobel was already flipping through a magazine idly as she waited for you to begin styling her hair.

Drawing deeply from your well of restraint, you managed not to jab her scalp with any pins as you secured her hair into a set of fashionable victory rolls before you called to Dash to take him for a walk. As you descended the stairs, you took the abandoned letter from its tray and shoved it into your pocket, grabbing Dash’s leash from the backdoor in the servant’s hall and heading out for a lengthy walk of the grounds. It did both of you good to get out of that house, Dash immediately perking up, tailing wagging as he trotted to-and-fro to inspect the foliage while you worked out your frustration at the petulant child you worked for by setting a brisk pace.

You only slowed after about thirty minutes, when a sheen of sweat had gathered at your brow and your legs were beginning to ache, changing to a stroll as you circled the lake, laughing softly as Dash barked at the ducks far out in the water who paid him no mind. “I promise to bring you out here more often, you silly boy.” You muttered, sliding a hand into your pocket and blinking as you found the letter, guilt twisting like a knife in your belly. “Because there’s a lot to make up for when it comes to your mistress.”

Swallowing tightly, you slowly pulled out the envelope, looking over Lieutenant Nixon’s tidy cursive. Certainly, there were laws against reading another’s mail, but the immorality of entertaining a man’s affections for six months only to throw him over as soon as he went to war seemed to outweigh all that in your mind. He had taken the time to write to an ungrateful, spoiled woman, the least someone could do was grant him the courtesy of reading it. Johnny had always said what a joy it was to send and receive letters, how it took his mind off life at the front first in North Africa and now Italy, and as someone who got to enjoy the safety and comfort of home it was a duty in your mind to do whatever you could to help those fighting for the Allies.

Taking a shaky breath, you carefully slipped the letter from the pre-sliced envelope – Miss Isobel was not even expected to open her own mail, after all – and unfolded the sheets of paper.

Pressing your fingertips to your lips, you only realized your feet had stopped their progress across the lawn when Dash’s leash tugged at your wrist insistently before he bounded over to you, pressing his paws onto your calf impatient to continue on. “Sorry, Dash, yes.” You whispered, carefully folding the letter and sliding it back into its envelope before returning it to your pocket.

For all his jokes and smirks, there had always been an air of melancholy about Lieutenant Nixon, one that he seemed to hide beneath a good story and strong drink. The only crime, as far as you could see, would be for his letters, written with such care and affection and filled with a need for connection, to remain unanswered. You could write well-enough, had received excellent marks on your cursive before you left school at sixteen to begin working and supporting your father as his old wound had become more and more troublesome.

You would, of course, toe the line of impersonating your employer. There would be no soppy declarations, just descriptions of the home and the family. Stories to keep his spirits up – just as he requested. Begging out of the after-dinner socializing with the rest of the staff due to a headache, you slipped up to your room to retrieve the first letter from the bottom of your suitcase and sat on your bed to read it as well, intending to reply to both.

Settling against the headboard with some fresh paper and a pen, you nibbled on the end of it thoughtfully, trying to decide how to begin your response.

Lieutenant Nixon

My Dear Lewis

Dearest Lewis

“You’d think I was trying to reinvent the wheel…” You hissed under your breath before grabbing a new sheet of paper and starting anew.

You bit your lip as you signed off, taking more than a little pleasure in perpetuating a nickname you knew Miss Isobel loathed. There were moments in the letter where you may have let a bit more of your own personality shine through but on the whole, you were satisfied that it was a rather good impersonation of your mistress. And most important of all, provided Lieutenant Nixon with the fuel for his imagination that he so longed for.

Preparing an envelope with the mailing address and Miss Isobel’s return address, you carefully folded it all up once the ink had properly dried and placed it in the outgoing post that night after you’d helped Miss Isobel change for bed. In your thoughts as you fell asleep was not only the hope for your brother’s safe return, but also that of Lieutenant Nixon, too.

--------------------------

Read Part Two

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fic #band of brothers

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welldonebeca · 5 months

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Uncertain Grounds - Masterlist

Summary: After Herogasm, Abby meets Soldier Boy again. This time, though, he doesn’t plan on her leaving his sights again, and she realises there’s more to him than meets the eye. Pairing: Abby (OC) x Soldier Boy Warnings: 1970s, time skip, violence, angst, fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Overstimulation. Vaginal sex. Oral sex. Multiple orgasms. Cum play. Daddy kink. Degradation. Tension. Power Imbalance. Toxic relationship. More.

Read "Might Abby" here!

Chapter 1 on Patreon (11th of December on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 2 on Patreon (18th of December on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 3 on Patreon (25th of December on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 4 on Patreon (1st of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 5 on Patreon (8th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 6 on Patreon (15th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 7 on Patreon (22nd of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 8 on Patreon (29th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 9 on Patreon (5th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 10 on Patreon (12th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Chapter 11 on Patreon (19th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3) Epilogue on Patreon (26th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)

. . .

"Uncertain Grounds" was fully posted on my Patreon on 2022. If you like Soldier Boy and other Jensen Ackles characters, and like the idea of having early access to my work, consider checking it out. It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it. (link takes you to the public masterlist)

. . .

Tag list is open. DM me about it.

#Welldonebeca's Uncertain Grounds series #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy angst

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the-vampire-queer · 5 months

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The Vampires Digital Media Poll: Round 2, Bracket 1

Creator's note: I recommend taking extreme caution as you vote for this one. It is easy to accidentally confuse these two, so be careful when choosing.

Please reblog for a bigger sample size.

Results get posted on December 20th. at 5PM CST.

| Next poll ->

If you wish to learn more about your options, either as a refresher or an introduction, press the "Keep reading" button.

What is Interview with the Vampire (1994) about?

Summary: "Born as an 18th-century lord, Louis is now a bicentennial vampire, telling his story to an eager biographer. Suicidal after the death of his family, he meets Lestat, a vampire who persuades him to choose immortality over death and become his companion. Eventually, gentle Louis resolves to leave his violent maker, but Lestat guilts him into staying by turning a young girl -- whose addition to the "family" breeds even more conflict." Source: Rotten Tomatoes

Source: Interview with the Vampire (1994)

Cast:

Brad Pitt - Louis de Pointe du Lac

Tom Cruise - Lestat de Lioncourt

Kirsten Dunst - Claudia

Christian Slater - Daniel Molloy

Antonio Banderas - Armand

Note: Cast lists provided here are not complete lists of people and characters featured in the media being listed. These are partial lists that include some of the main characters and their actors.

Additional information: This movie is based on the Anne Rice novel of the same name. Anne Rice was an author who wrote 13 books for her book series The Vampire Chronicles, which starts with the book, The Interview with the Vampire. In 2022, a tv show of the same name was created, also based on the book(s).

What is Interview with the Vampire (2022) about?

Summary: "In the year 2022, the vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac lives in Dubai and seeks to tell the story of his life or afterlife to renowned journalist Daniel Molloy. Beginning in early 20th-century New Orleans, Louis' story follows his relationship with the vampire Lestat [de] Lioncourt and their formed family, including teen fledgling Claudia. Together, the vampire family endures immortality in New Orleans and beyond. As the interview continues in Dubai, Molloy discovers the truths beneath Louis' story." Source: Rotten Tomatoes

Note: Rotten Tomatoes incorrectly labels Lestat de Lioncourt as "Lestat du Lioncourt". This is corrected by me via brackets.

Source: Interview with the Vampire (2022)

Cast:

Jacob Anderson - Louis de Pointe du Lac

Sam Reid - Lestat de Lioncourt

Bailey Bass - Claudia (will be replaced by Delainey Hayles in the next season)

Eric Bogosian - Daniel Molloy

Assad Zaman - Armand

Note: Cast lists provided here are not complete lists of people and characters featured in the media being listed. These are partial lists that include some of the main characters and their actors.

Additional information: This tv show is based on the Anne Rice novel of the same name. Anne Rice was an author who wrote 13 books for her book series The Vampire Chronicles, which starts with the book, The Interview with the Vampire. Previously, in 1994, a movie of the same name was created, also based on the book(s).

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kaidanworkshop · 4 months

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Workshop Progress: January Update

Happy New Year Workshop Followers! The staff is excited to be back to business after a restful few weeks. We held a meeting last Friday to discuss the current Fun(ds) poll rankings, what scripts we want to prepare for the next session with Paul Warren, and what community script participation will look like in the coming months.

Additionally, as per our last update, we have also reopened staff applications for our Community Team! If you are interested in applying, please fill out this form. With that out of the way, here are the current standings for the new content options:

The current eleven packs adds up to 545 lines, with The Daedra Pack coming in as our runner up script in the event of any extra budget space. There's still two weeks until the poll closes at 11:59pm, February 1st, 2023, so make sure you vote for your favorite pack to be included in our 1.0 launch, and send it to your friends! You can find details for all of the different Fun(ds) options here, as well as the poll here. There are a few runaway winners that our Writing Team will begin work on in the coming week, which brings us to how we'd like to incorporate community input and feedback into our workflow process for script production.

During the beta livestreams in December, we were able to glean a ton of great ideas from the community that we ultimately turned into content packs for the Fun(ds) initiative. We want to incorporate that collaborative experience in the following manner:

Hosting dedicated investigatory livestreams via our Twitch with the community (that's you!) to not only continue beta testing, but to discuss and crowdsource ideas for the prioritized content (e.g. a stream dedicated to playing through the Thieves' Guild, to discuss possible lines or reactions Kaidan might have)

Taking the ideas and inspiration that we get from those streams, and incorporating them into our scripts, which will undergo our usual process of internal peer review

Hosting a second stage event via our Discord where we feature an excerpt of the script(s) in production and get feedback from the community on the current progress for final editorial review

Refining and finalizing the script for a future commission with our VA

To that end, the first of these investigatory livestreams will be this Thursday, January 18th at 2:30 pm CST/ 8:30 pm GMT for the Paarthurnax - Quest Expansion Mod, created by the talented Jayserpa.

With the completion of Kaidan's framework and the bulk of his beta testing complete, our goal for our 1.0 launch date on Nexus is May 2024.

We are incredibly humbled to have the extra money in the budget to begin creating original scripts for this project, and as always ask for your comments, suggestions and ideas as we continue to refine this creative communal process. We look forward to seeing you this Thursday!

#kaidan 2 #kaidanworkshop #kaidan skyrim #custom voice follower skyrim #elder scrolls skyrim #custom voiced follower #kaidan workshop

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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At Her Mercy

Pairing: Simon “ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Summary: you’re needed to help guide the task force 141 group, when you meet ghost, it would tear open your wounds.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mentions of murder, childhood abuse, physical violence, ghosting, heartless reader, typical cod violence, child death, bit of physicality between ghost and reader. Ptsd. No happy ending.

Note: I have a lot of requests and I’m sorry I just have so much Simon brain rot I need to get this out of my system. Sorry this is angsty. May be open for p2 idk lol.

You try not to linger around the grave too long after having sat here for 23 minutes, the longer you sat the longer it usually was harder for you to walk away. You couldn’t afford that attachment today; you had a plane to catch. Time didn’t stop for you, the world didn’t stop spinning and you knew you’d have to trudge through the metaphorical mud you often got stuck in again once you’d left; leaving was always the hardest part.

The clock on your wrist didn’t slow for you, the hands tick with each passing second you spent knelt into the unkempt overgrown grass at the cemetery. The headstone was old, in desperate need of a pressure wash to restore it’s original state. The arch shaped stone seemed to stand strong in the structure itself, your fingers had swiped the cobwebs off the top and base of the stone, clearing any critters that tried to make this memorial their home.

You knew you shouldn’t have purchased a whole bouquet of flowers, the bunch of red and orange flowers sat at the base where you’d carefully placed them upon your arrival, a mix of his favourite colours. You’d even purchased him a small gift, a hot wheels car, a red mustang with white stripes across the bonnet. He had always loved cars, playing with them and working on them; he mentioned a dozen times he’d wanted to be a mechanic, now along side him in his coffin; lie his dreams. A life unfulfilled and cut short at no fault of his own. It had been 10 years and 7 days; December 18th was the day your semi-normal but functioning life was stripped away; the day he was taken from you.

“Sorry I couldn’t come see you last week kid, I know I always make sure but things got-complicated. Hope you’ll forgive me.”

Things were definitely complicated. You were contacted by General Shepherd, you knew of him; being he was in charge of several units across the United States Military, including your section. He had a lot of contacts and if you worked for him; there was nothing about you he didn’t know. He directly had asked you to come and command the task force 141 team, alongside a man named Captain John Price.

“John Price is a good man and a damn good Captain.” Shephard stated, hanging off his last word on the laptop he’d called you on, his face could barely look at the camera.

“But?” You question impatiently.

“We fear he may’ve gone soft on the men here. We could use your..” he trails off, looking for the right word to use. “Resourcefulness and ruthlessness.”

“Do you think I’m ruthless, General?” You deadpan. His face pixilated as the wifi on your end fails to keep up.

“I’ve heard many a stories about you, Captain. Plane leaves in two days. John Price will meet you upon your arrival.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in touch General.” You shut your laptop screen, the call automatically ending as it meets the keypad.

You check your watch once more, the action becoming more frequent as the minutes passed, knowing you were cutting it close to missing the plan which left in half an hour to your new workplace.

“Sorry kid I better get going. I miss you everyday, still keep you near to my heart.” Your fingers trace the small ‘m’ letter necklace, the simple silver letter was attached to a small-link chain. Something that spent more time by your bedside table than around your neck these days-something you were ashamed to admit. The small trinket was one of the few items you owned of his, you tried to keep his memory alive as your brain often forgot what he looked like, the sound of his voice and laugh. The day you received this gift was one you’d remember until you died. You pull your mask up to cover the bottom half of your face, reaching underneath your eyes, closing yourself off and your vulnerability.

Christmas Day was always hectic in the household; spending time with your husbands family, his brother and wife, your nephew who was practically your own son.

“Hey, hey! I give up, put me down!” The boy giggled through his fit of laughter, short brown hair brushing the floor as you held him upside down.

“Gotta say the word otherwise you don’t tap out!” You manage through your own burst of laughter, his parents watching on with their own smiles, your husband watches you with a fondness and hope for your own children someday.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The boy squeals, finally. You set him down on the carpet gently, once he stands his cheeks are red and freckles are visible now more than normal.

He walks to the heavily decorated Christmas tree, bends down and precisely plucks a small, messily wrapped gift and hands it to you with a shy smile. The yellow Christmas lights shine in his blue eyes as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to accept the gift. The first thing you notice is the outrageous amount of tape that secured the wrapping paper, the second was his messy hand writing that had scribbled your name, with a love heart next to his, you tear off the note and secure it in your pant pocket, too valuable not to keep.

“Do you think you can help me open it? I might need your big muscles to help unravel all this tape. Whaddya say?” He grins, nodding, helping you claw at the tape he had fervently taped last night after his parents had finally lent him some money he’d been begging for weeks.

Once the paper is gone, it’s exposed. The small white cardboard top that covered a black velvet box; the brand of a well known jeweller splayed in a cursive font on the box in silver. “This is so sweet!” You hum, completely delighted before you get the chance to even open the gift.

“Just wait till you open it! I think it’s neat.” He boasts proudly. You open the box, a small silver letter ‘m’ shines back at you, casting your reflection in the cursive letter. Before you can question him, he’s already starting to explain.

“It’s for Mercy, it’s something that reminds me of you when you’re not here. We always have so much fun playing together and I hope you like it.”

The tears in your eyes are fluent, your mouth is wet as you fill to the metaphorical brim of the cup with emotion, about to overflow. “Like it? Are you kidding, I love it. I promise we’ll come see you more often okay?”

“Yeah, that would be so neat!”

The memory replays as you’re sitting in the taxi to the Military airport, a junction that’s privately owned and used by few occupants that require urgent travel. The plane is being boarded with flight crew when you arrive; the army plane was one of many you’ve seen before; the dark grey would be a blip in the perfectly blue sky, like the little boy on your mind; his absence was your loss; your dark grey blip.

“Captain, please, let us take care of your luggage. Board the plane swiftly as we are on time and due to depart in 10 minutes.” You offload your giant luggage bag to a low ranking worker, his uniform clear indication he was what the higher ups call a shitkicker, or rookie. They were generally to stupid-or immature to be anything more than a servant, someone to fetch and do basic physical training until they were filtered out; booted or into the military as a low ranking soldier.

“Thanks kid.” You offer the younger man, kindness wouldn’t hurt with the rookies, you’ve been there and were there for two years-they were a necessity in the industry, without them there would be no new soldiers, no people to do the dirty work, like cleaning the toilets and washing the bedsheets.

The inside of the plane was nothing fancy, while it’s seats were mildly stiff and there was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke you didn’t complain, it was better than being seated where the low ranking soldiers were strapped, in the back of the aircraft with the luggage and whatever cargo they were shipping to the next location.

“Anything to drink, madam?” You look up to meet the eyes of a tired stuartess.

“Got any whiskey?” She nods politely and you pull the plastic tray down that’s attached to the seat in front.

“How would you like that made madam?” She’s pouring from a glass bottle, by the look of the honey coloured liquid, it was expensive.

“On the rocks, prepare me a second. Better make it a double.” You grab the drink, throwing it back and swallowing it in one go, the bitterness burned going down your throat, followed by tones of malt and honey.

You hand the glass back to the middle aged woman, she prepares you a double as you ask and you set the cup in front of you.

“If you need our assistance please don’t hesitate to ask, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Your voice is rough, the whiskey was harsh on your throat, despite the sweet after taste, it was harsher than you were used to, the ice adding a coolness that made your teeth sensitive with every sip of the liquid.

You pull out a small baggie from your top right pocket of your dark uniform, two small white rounded pills sit at the bottom of the small ziplock plastic bag. You fish out the pills, your fingers a decent size too big for it to be an effortless task. Getting disgruntled and sick of waiting another minute, you tip the baggie upward and crane your neck back into the seat, the two pills falling from the bag onto your tongue. The powdery residue on your tongue is bitter and unpleasant, you don’t take another second to pick up your glass and swallow the pills.

After a few years of using the sleeping pills, you’ve gained a small tolerance, it takes close to 15 before your eyelids start fluttering, the loudness of the aircraft starts to drown out, all the emotion from the gravesite seems to fade away as you fall out of consciousness, you would enjoy the peace as it came; no nightmares, no pain, just blissful ignorance.

You wake just as the plane lands on the runway, the loud screeching of the rubber tyres hitting the tar at great speed. To speed up the process of waking up, you gulp down the last of your whiskey, the beverage barely relieving the dry mouth the pills had caused you on a daily basis. You clear your throat and lick your lips, looking around at the view outside of the moving scenery as the plane circles around to its final stop, where two military grade unimogs full of soldiers await your arrival.

You adjust your black mask, the material clings tight to your chin as it drapes down your neck. A man approaches you as you walk down the giant ramp of the aircraft, the noise ceasing as the engines come to a halt, the blades rotating slowly as they realise their journey has ended. The man stands a few inches taller than you, his brown mutton chops frame his face, blue eyes piercing you with a friendly look that makes you uneasy, the crows feet around his eyes are a knowing sign of his stress. You don’t even want to get started on that stupid hat.

“John Price, Captain John Price. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance.” You shake his extended hand firmly. Believing all you need to know in a person is all in the handshake; take Price for example, he’s firm, friendly, a business man, his hand doesn’t linger for longer than it needs to.

“You can call me Mercy. Glad to finally meet you Captain Price. Shepherd hasn’t informed me much of your men, I hope they’re up to standard.” You begin to walk to the truck, Price has his men load your luggage into the back.

“I firmly believe they are, Captain.” He holds the door open for you to sit in the backseat, an unusually kind gesture for someone you just met.

“Guess we’ll see about that.” You deadpan bluntly. You had seen your fair share of failures in your time, leaders who weren’t harsh enough on their men, who didn’t correct their mistakes or claimed to be a family unit. You hated that dynamic, you weren’t here to build a family or make friends. You were placed here to help the men of this task force with their dedicated mission and get the fuck back to your own unit, you had your own men that relied on you.

“Hope you don’t mind the introductions will be made off base this evening.” You raise an eyebrow, turning to the man beside you.

“Is that so? Where exactly will this off base location be? Is the area secure, will you have men patrolling the area?” These are all necessary questions and this man had looked at you as if you had two heads, which answered your questions for you.

“We can have it arranged Ma’am.” You hum in distaste.

“It would want to be arranged, I don’t leave base unless I know myself and my men are safe. I’m sure you understand Captain.” You already showed no fondness to the man who was supposed to be leading a task force, how incompetent were the men he were in charge of if the Captain himself didn’t pre-organise this off base meeting.

The base was small, a dozen buildings, one awfully large one in which you would assume was medical. One in which you would hope is medical. The trucks come to a stop, you’re grateful for your mask that filters the dust in which stops you from inhaling the swirling storm of dust as you open the door. Your boots leave an indented footprint on the beige dust, the grass growing in patches and the buildings invaded with overgrown weeds that haven’t been touched in what you’d assume were years.

“If you’ll follow me ma’am, I’ll show you around base.” You pull out the small notepad and pen, scribbling down how someone needs to hire a damn maintenance man to clean the weeds and mow the grass.

You come to the largest building which is attached to the other smaller ones in a large D shape. As you walk in, the room is outdated and the stench makes your nose scrunch in disgust under your mask.

“Captain what the fuck is that obnoxious smell?” Price turns to you, slowing his pace to match your own as you look into the windows of the old, outdated rooms, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

“This is the mess hall, we used to have people cook for us but they were all fired when the government stopped extra curricula funding.” You frown, speeding your pace through the dirty halls of the building.

“Why hasn’t it been cleaned, or demolished?” You finally exit that part of the building. Price doesn’t have an answer for you. You write some notes in your notepad about the foul stench and lack of use for that building, writing demolish with question marks and drawing a big circle around it.

“This is where we sleep, we have a dozen men on base at the moment, myself and 3 others are the task force 141 team you’ll be working closely with, your room is this one right here.”

You come to a stop, room 5F. He hands you the key, putting a spare in his pocket. Your luggage is sitting outside the door already.

“Keeping the spare key for any particular reason?”

“For emergencies only, we’ve had an incident where someone had a heart attack and locked themselves in. He passed away before we could get to him. Just a precaution, that’s all.”

The room is stuffy when he opens the door, the single bed is topped with a 4 inch mattress and one old flimsy blanket and a flat pillow, you’re grateful you brought your own bedding.

“If you need anything give me a buzz, I’ll text you the address of the bar tonight.” He gestures to a small piece of paper on the wall, sticky taped on all four sides. Written Prices name and mobile number.

“Right. Thanks.” You drag your luggage in from outside the door, the wheels are loud on the floor as it squeaks. You begin to unpack your things, deciding to put up the image of your nephew on the bedside table, having cropped out your ex-husband from the image to show the two of you, an image from your last birthday you spent with him.

“I want a corner piece please, please!” The boy pleas, his love for the crispy par burnt edges of your birthday cake were his favourite. You slice him up a large piece, swiping your finger in the delicious yellow frosting that topped his oversized piece. You lean into him and wipe it on his face, earning a groan of protest from him as he retreats from you.

“I’m trying to eat it, not wear it!” You laugh, cutting your family each a slice of the cake your brother-in-laws wife had made. The sunflowers were handcrafted with such delicacy you were saddened to cut into them-let alone eat them.

“Alright, alright, I guess I can leave you unbothered. But just for the moment.” You push his arm with your own gently in a playful manner.

To your surprise, he pulls out a sunflower from beside the seat he sits on, you set the cake down and grasp the flourishing flower, inspecting the beauty and vibrancy of the perfectly bright yellow petals, it had been picked perfectly. Tears pricked your eyes as you held the flower.

“God kid, you know how to make me cry dontcha?” He grins, his mouth full of chocolate mud cake, “good tears, right?” You smiled at your nephew and he smiled back, “right.” Unbeknownst to you in that moment-your brother in law had snapped an image.

A picture you held dear to your heart, and now bedside. You manage to pull yourself away from the image-a painful memory in which all of him had become, yet you had to preserve as there was no one left that would do so. You refused to let his memory die.

You pull your mask down as you near the sink, a crusty mirror hangs above it, barely clear enough for you to see yourself as much more than a blur. You reapply the black paint to your face as some unwelcome tears had fallen and dropped down your cheeks, ruining the pigment of the paint. You brush your teeth, turning the tap on to see a musty brown coloured water before it turns clear, note to self, don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled.

You apply some deodorant before pulling your mask back upward, your hot breath is once again trapped in the confines of the mask as you close yourself off. Your phone vibrates on the bed and you check it’s a text from Price confirming the location of the ‘meeting’. More like a typical military piss up, these men will find any excuse to drink.

Price: “Bar at 112 West Highland Road. Neon green sign out front, be blind to miss it.”

You: “Got it. Be there soon.”

The bar was quieter than you expected, sure it had a few typical rowdy drinks, but nothing like any of the chaos you’d experienced in America. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Price, your eyes scanning every face in the room as if you’ve got facial recognition in your brain, just in case you need to remember. Price stands from his seat, 3 other men sit with him, one is significantly larger than the rest, he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, the rest you don’t see as he’s turned towards the bar.

You stand tall as you approach them, people moving out of your way as you barge into their shoulders roughly.

“Glad you could join us tonight. This is the rest of the team, Gaz, Soap and Ghost.” He points to his men and you shake the hand of Gaz first, “nice meeting you Gaz.” He’s got a bright smile that you find hard not to reciprocate.

“I’m John McTavish but you can call me Soap, ma’am.” You raise an eyebrow, two johns? Seriously? You shake his hand, “I’ll keep that in mind, Soap.”

The last man you approach is large, he’s tall and a black baklava with a skull print covers his face. His hoodie is pulled up and a black substance covers his eyes, his blonde lashes untouched as they poke through, his blue eyes are piercing as they stare through you. “Ghost eh, interesting. I like the look.” He looks you up and down before nodding. “Appreciated Captain.” He sets his drink down on the bar and you take a seat in between him and Soap, there feels something familiar about his accent, those beaming blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, but you chalk it up to him being British. “Call me Mercy.”

“How’d ya come up that callsign?” Soap inquires. You exhale deeply, this was going to be a long night.

“Before I answer any damn questions, I need a drink.” The bartender took your order, within the minute you had the drink sitting in front of you, pleading for you to drink it so it could take your pain away for you, deal with the guilt and memories you found to traumatic to continue to think about.

You take a sip and smack your lips. “It was an inside thing between my nephew and I, the name kinda just stuck.”

You finished off your drink and slid it back to the bartender who gave you a refill as you asked. “You got family back home then?” Gaz questions.

Thank god for the refill. “Negative. All deceased.” The men went quiet and you sip on the liquid, it warms you from the inside out, taking away the guilt and stripping you down to where you had no emotion on the topic. They murmur apologies and you feel ghosts gaze on you, his eyes felt dark and sinister, like he was distant from his physical body, he didn’t really feel there.

“You ever marry?” You grit your teeth, your jaw is clenching so hard you can almost feel your teeth grinding. The mention of your husband boils your blood, but also breaks your heart into a million shards.

“Still married, technically. Piece of shit ghosted me when things got hard, haven’t seen him since. First thing I’ll do if I ever see that sorry bastard is serve him the divorce papers I’ve been carrying for half a decade. Cant change my last name without the divorce being finalised.”

You throw your neck back as you finish off your second glass of whiskey. Your bladder feeling full from the beverage, your mind hazy and spinning already, the talk of your husband is making your head ache. You pull of your ID and card, throwing it onto the bench for the bartender, “excuse me a moment while I use the restroom, prepare another drink for when I get back would you?”

The bartender watches you hesitantly and mutters, “sure.”

The bartender tossed your cards back to the bench in front of you, attempting to sit them where you left them, seemingly throwing it too far as your ID rolls off the bar onto the floor beside your stool legs. Soap mutters, “fuckin idiot.” As he picks up your card, setting it back upright in front of your drink, noticing the last name, he does a double take. He thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your last name- Riley. This surely is just a coincidence, right?

“Eh Lt, you seen this lass’ last name, might be a relation to you.” Ghost turns to soap, irritated by his shenanigans, but glances towards the card anyway and can’t take his eyes away from it. He sees you- her. His wife. It’s her face and her name, how did you get this? His wife hated the military, war and fighting, she would never join it, let alone become a Captain of her own army.

He felt his blood boiling, the alcohol in his blood seemed to fuel the fire swirling in his stomach. How wife was killed that night along with the rest of his family- it made him sick to his stomach having to think you could try and come into this talk force and betray him.

“You alright Simon?” Prices voice is unheard, the noise of the bar and the photo of his wife’s face brings back too many painful memories for him to focus on the reality. Memories that plagued his nightmares- of you and him.

“What do you think Si?” She twirls in the blue sundress for him as her hair falls over her shoulders, he can only smile at the sight of her, her beauty was immeasurable to him-incomparable. He had never felt this way before about anyone. In that moment, he remembers how perfect he thinks she would’ve looked swollen with his child.

His hands snaked their away around her waist, pulling her into his body. “You know I think you look fuckin’ perfect baby, always perfect.” She rolls her eyes at his compliment.

“This is a serious matter you know! It’s a wedding, people will be taking pictures that last many lifetimes, you look so handsome and I have to match it.” He remembers cradling her face, forcing her to look him in his eyes, “you look better than I ever could, baby.”

She smiled but shook her head, “no one could ever be more handsome than my husband.” She rubbed her hands up and down his white long sleeve button up shirt, smoothing out the collar which barely had a wrinkle in it post ironing.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you hm?” His voice was a quiet whisper, she’d worked through previous hardships, his struggles and scars she had kissed better and even attempted to stitch up when he’d come home because he blatantly refused to let anyone else touch his body. She had been there through the worst of it, helped him through his family troubles, stayed after he applied for the military and stayed up during the nights he had nightmares, his ptsd was severe for months on end when he first signed up.

“You deserve me Si, more than anything you deserve me.”

“Ghost?” Soaps hand was on his shoulder, shaking him out of his hazy memories of his old wife.

“Need a minute outside.”

As he pushes through the large crowd, he finds you already outside, smoking a cigarette that blows large clouds through the cool night air. You pull down the bottom of your mask, not wanting to be exposed to the larger man. He towers over you, something about his size and silence is both terrifying and has you feeling safe.

“Don’t like people seein’ your face?” You’re surprised when he asks, having not said much to you this evening.

“No one but myself has in a long time.” He leans up against the brick wall, standing too close for your liking beside you.

“You ever get sick of it?” You turn to him, squashing your cigarette underneath your boot, the red light fizzling out on the damp cement.

“Sick of what exactly?” You turn to him, an arm on your hip.

“Bein’ a snake, pretendin’ to be someone you’re not.” This makes you frown, your impatience coming in at an all time high, blood pressure rising as this man insults you.

“If you’ve got something to say, Ghost, I suggest you spit it out.” You snap accusingly, pointing at his chest as you stand tall, keeping eye contact and not intimidated by what he’s doing. You take a step closer and he comes off of the brick wall, standing a foot in front of you.

“You’re the enemy, have to be smarter than to use an ID of someone who is dead!” He snarls, his voice is booming as he swings at you, his fist connects with your stomach and it sends you sliding backwards on the wet cement. You exhale, steadying your breathing after the hit. You lunge towards him, ducking at the last second to avoid is hands trying to grab you, you kick as his knees and one falters, nearly bringing him to the ground, you had quickly figured out his weakness.

He levels himself on his leg, watching you with a look so furious in his eyes you want nothing more than to erase the look from your mind, if you had to accomplish that with violence-so be it.

He pulls out his knife from his boot, you scowl as he does so, “fucking coward, fight like a man!” You yell at him, he ignores you and charges like a raging bull, heavy footsteps slow in comparison to your nimble movements which allows you to narrowly avoid the knife he aimed to plunge into your ribs.

You pulled out your own knife, “wanna fucking okay dirty hm? Come on then you fucking prick! I’m not scared of you, I eat shitheads like you for fucking dinner.” You’re eyeing each other off, circling like predator and prey, although no one knows who is which yet. The rain makes it difficult to see, the drops falling onto your mask make it more difficult to breath through. Through the scuffle part of your hair had fallen out of its plait, the strand of hair irritating and blinding you as it sits in front of your eyes.

“Fuck it.” You growl lowly, tearing off your mask as you cut it with your knife, all while avoiding a blow from Ghosts forward attack, you pull your hair backwards and tuck it behind your ear.

The man freezes in place, his movements stop entirely, the knife falling from his hands, clattering onto the wet sidewalk. As he sees her-you, his wife. Your face is more matured, it’s grown into its features and you have a sternness he doesn’t recognise, eyes as cold as stone as you watch him fall apart before you. He notices a giant scar along your nose that has never been seen before.

“It can’t be, you’re dead, you died-“ he trails off, eyes wide as he watches you like a Hawk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, confused and still pent up from the fight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t mutter a single word, he barely finds the strength to lift his hands to the bottom of his baklava and pulls it off his face, revealing himself for the first time in over a decade. He felt himself crumbling, so vulnerable and exposed to the world, his world-you. His wife and the woman he loved so much-loves.

You stutter for a moment before your face hardens again, you storm forward and shove him, your fists hit his chest so many times you can’t count, he doesn’t react, he just stands like a punching bag for you to let out your Pent up anger. You pull away from him, the thought of touching him and him touching you, made you nauseous.

“You piece of shit! You left me! For better or worse my fucking ass!” You pace the sidewalk, kicking the trash can as a decades worth of emotions come crashing down on you. “You weren’t even there for the funeral Simon! Have you even visited them? Since they’ve died, have you? I see Joseph whenever I get the chance.”

Tears are falling down your face at the thought of him, your nephew Joseph.

“Don’t talk about him.” Simon growls, obviously still a soft spot for him. You roll your eyes, “I thought you were fucking dead with them! When I ran through that house and didn’t find you I thought they’d taken you to fucking get back at me! I chased every piece of intel for years on end trying to find you.” He steps towards you, his big chest heaving. The street lamp above you shines above him, his face looking more scarred and handsome as ever.

“I killed every damn one of those motherfuckers and you were still nowhere to be found. I dedicated the past decade of my life trying to find you and you’re in the fucking military, alive and fine.”

You slap him across the face at his accusation.

“If you think this is me fine Simon Riley, you’re stupidly fucking mistaken. Now get the fuck out of my face! I’m your Captain, you’re dismissed! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You storm away from him, sheathing your knife into your leg harness. Once you were far away enough and sure he couldn’t see you, you slipped on your mask and sobbed, uncontrollably against the wall of a building in the street, forgetting about the bar, the team and the ID you’d left behind. Screw all that, in the morning you were going home. The rain poured on you, your uniform heavy on your skin as it sticks.

You mindlessly walk until you reach base, not realising how far you’d walked until you ended up standing out the front of your room door with the key in hand ready to unlock the door. You exhale and close the door, removing your mask and grabbing a fist full of wipes to clean the smudged black face paint that had dropped down your neck from the rain and probably your tears. Fuck Simon, you couldn’t stay here, not when he was a constant reminder of the pain, your past was too much to have to relive everyday. The death, blood, the screams, the way he abandoned you.

You sit on the chair beside your desk, grabbing the photograph of you and Joseph before your emotionally exhausted body begins to slump over the desk, eyes fluttering shut before you can remember to take your pills.

You’re preparing Joseph’s things for a bath, his clothes laid down on his bed, his green towel and toothbrush on the bed. You’re about to call him up when you hear the front door bust open.

“Kill every last one of them, I want no survivors. Riley has to pay.” It’s a foreign voice you don’t recognise, the fear of something happening to your family and realising this is the end as they fire the first gunshot. The screams of your brother in law shake the foundation of the house as gunfire rings through the walls, his wife begging through her sobs for these men to stop, “we’ll do anything, please!”

Her pleas are ignored and she too is gunned down, silence fills the house, you sneakily hide in the bedroom closet in Joseph’s room, the door thankfully making no noise as you close the door shut, the old hinges working a charm for the first time ever. You can barely see anything through the tiny cracks of the closet door, the moonlight coming through the window is the only thing you see.

You hear footsteps running down the hall to your direction and you try to even your ragged breathing, you hear more footsteps running up the stairs, the thundering noise beats in your ears. You hear him crying, sobbing as he calls for help, for you to help him. You’re frozen, trembling in place as the kid stands there alone with a gun pointed to him in his own bedroom.

“He’s just a kid, can’t we leave him?” One man says, the other sneers at him, “boss said all of them, especially the kid.”

“No please!” Joseph begs before he’s gunned down, his blood splatters into the closet cracks and onto your face, you flinch and your eyes are wide as your nephew is ruthlessly murdered in front of you. You were too much of a coward to help him, you are compliant in his death.

The man walks closer to the closet, hand rattling on the closet door knob like he’s going to open it, then the sound of police sirens can be heard coming down the street, they’re coming fast and the red and blue lights are seen through the window, illuminating the room and the dead body but feet away from you.

“Hurry up and let’s get out of here. I ain’t goin to prison!” The hand releases the doorknob and trips over Joseph’s body, running downstairs as they escape the consequences.

Your body is trembling, stuck in a back and forth rock of trying to self sooth but to no avail. Your brain replays the scene over and over, him begging for your help and being shot by a couple thugs in a targeted attack.

“M sorry joey.” Is your mantra, you’re repeating it over and over, what starts as a soft whisper becomes a chant that attracts the police.

“Hey, we got a survivor over here!” The officer calls to his colleagues, trying to pry you from the closet. “What’s your name?” His voice is drowned out by your ears ringing, your dissociated state accompanied by the incoherence nonsense that leaves your lips, “mercy.” You mumble, mercy. That’s what you wanted, hoping the muttered word would stop the pain, stop the cruelty and stop the joke.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your eyes shoot open as you’re gasping for air, the scream that leaves your lips is one of genuine terror, your arms are thrashing and shoving the weight you feel on your arm as someone’s hand.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” You recognise his voice, Simon. Your heart is thumping and you sit up from your spot on the chair, pacing the small area in the room that Simon didn’t occupy.

“You have em too?” Your neck snaps around to Simon, glaring at him through your tears and wet face. “Of course I have them, I hear their screams and see Joseph killed in my head over and over on reply, as if it happened yesterday.”

Simon stumbles backward, shocked by your confession. “You- you saw him..” you rubbed your hands over your eyes. “Yes.” Confirming what Simon would never want to hear from you. You watched your nephew die.

“I don’t want you or need you in here Simon, I need you to leave.” He shuffles on his feet, his eyes torn between you and the photograph of you and his nephew on the table you’d just been cradling.

“If you ever want to talk-“ you cut him off with a scoff, irritated by his presence.

“I don’t. Now get out, I’m fine. I’m not here to make amends with you and sure as hell not trying to be your wife again, Simon. You were a shit husband, now please, get out.” You sigh, sitting on your bed, completely exhausted.

Simons heart shatters at your words, every wall he’s built comes crumbling down at his feet, he’s now left truly alone. The hope of you had kept him going- now what does he have? He simply nods, wanting to respect your needs, when he reaches the door you call his name, he’s hopeful when he turns around to see you barely a foot away when you hand him an envelope.

“Sign the divorce papers Simon. Please.”

It feels like his heart has been stomped on the for third time tonight, you were trying to sever the last connection he had to you, his last name. The only proof he had that you were ever his, that his family existed at all; he holds the papers tight in his hand and walks out of your room, leaving you to take out your pills and swallow them dry, having a sleep that’s uninterrupted by those plaguing nightmares, those pills, your poison, you were at her mercy and Simon was at yours.

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