#barry pepper

[thoughtfulangeltidalwave]

You and Me (Part 18)

The dim light of the cell cast long shadows across the stone floor, the faint sound of the guards’ footsteps echoing down the hall.

Y/N sat at her desk, pencil in hand, a sketch of Mr. Jingles slowly coming to life on the page. Her thoughts, though, wandered elsewhere.

The door creaked open, and without a word, Dean stepped inside. He settled himself on the cot beside her, the weight of his presence familiar, comforting even in this place. He didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter, and she appreciated that.

“Hey,” he said quietly, drawing her gaze from the sketch to him.

“Hey,” she murmured back, offering a faint smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

He watched her for a moment, his fingers fidgeting slightly, clearly unsure of how to begin. “You know… I’ve been thinking about the kids,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if the words carried more weight than he was used to sharing. “Lily’s been fussing a lot lately, always crying, and I just… I can’t help but want to give her the world, Y/N. To keep her safe. Danny too. He’s a handful, but he’s got such a big heart. I just… I’m scared I’m not enough for them, you know?”

Y/N could hear the sadness in his voice, the fear that came with being a father, even one as dedicated as Dean. She set her pencil down, her fingers tracing the edges of the paper as she thought about her own children.

“I get it,” she said softly, her voice distant. “I’ve had a lot of moments where I didn’t feel like I was enough for them. But we do the best we can. You’re doing the best you can, Dean. And that’s all they need, really. To know you love them.”

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on her. “Yeah… it’s just hard, sometimes. My wife… she’s not exactly the most attentive. She’s got her own things to deal with, and I feel like I’m the only one holding it together. I just don’t want to screw them up, you know?”

Y/N looked at him, her heart aching for him. She could see the weight of it all in his eyes. She’d never really thought about how much Dean must carry every day. His family, his responsibilities, his own fears, all hidden behind that tough exterior.

“I don’t think you could screw them up, Dean,” she said gently. “You’re too good. You’ll figure it out. We all do, one way or another.”

He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile, as if even that small bit of reassurance wasn’t enough to ease the burden he carried. “I wish it was that simple.”

She shrugged, offering a small, understanding nod. “It’s never simple. But you’re not alone in it.”

He nodded, as if that small truth, shared between the two of them, could carry them both through the hard times ahead.

But as Y/N glanced down at her sketch again, the small comfort of their conversation started to wane. The weight of her own past—the ghosts of her children, the memory of her husband—crept in quietly, and she clenched her hands into fists.

“I miss them,” she whispered, barely audible.

Dean’s expression softened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Come here” he said softly, holding out one of his arms to her. 

Slowly she took it, moving from the desk to her cot where she lay with her head in his lap as he held her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this, but here even in her cell in his embrace she felt safe. 

“I know you miss them,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But you didn’t do this. I know you didn’t, you aren’t a killer” he safe resting his head on her shoulder.

She couldn’t help but let the tears well up, though she kept them from spilling over. She was so tired of carrying the weight of everything alone. But there, in that small moment, with Dean’s words hanging in the air like a fragile thread between them.

“I am Dean,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

“I don’t believe you” he did didn’t say anything else, he just held her as tear fell down her face.

As the silence between them deepened, the weight of the moment bore down on them both. Y/N was being destroyed by her secrets and Dean felt powerless to help.

But just as Y/N was starting to feel courage to say something, the sound of the door sliding open broke the quiet.

“Y/N,” Paul’s voice came from the threshold, warm but with the usual undertone of authority. “Your sister’s here to see you.”

———————————————————————

Paul escorted Y/N to the meeting room. She’d been waiting for Sophie’s visit for a while now. Though she was grateful for the support, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

When she entered the room, Sophie stood up quickly from the table a look of defiant confidence crossing her face. “I’ll leave you two to talk, but I’ll be just over here if you need anything” Paul said in a low voice to her.

Y/N hesitated, her hand resting on the edge of the door frame, and then she stood tall, gathering her thoughts, trying to steady herself for what was to come.

Sophie walked over to her, her posture immediately stiff with purpose. She was the same as always—serious, but with a warmth in her eyes that made Y/N feel safe, even if it was hard to admit it aloud.

“Hey, kiddo,” Sophie greeted softly, walking over to Y/N and wrapping her in a brief hug. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N tried to smile but failed. “I’m making it,” she replied, the words feeling hollow.

Sophie pulled back, studying her face. “I’ve got some news. Good news, I think.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to steady her breath. “What’s that?”

Sophie paused, her eyes flickering with a hint of hesitation, before she spoke. “I’ve been talking to John, Sebastian and his team in New York. They’ve been working on your case, trying to get a clearer picture of what happened with your husband. And, well… they’ve got a solid case, Y/N. They’re building it up, piece by piece. Your husband… he wasn’t the man he appeared to be.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched. She wanted to feel relieved, wanted to believe in the hope Sophie was offering her, but the memory of her husband—his anger, his cruelty—was still so vivid. It made her feel small, insignificant, despite everything she’d already been through.

“They’ve found evidence that he was an abusive alcoholic. Sebastian’s team they… they tracked down witnesses, people from the old neighborhood, and they’re pulling together enough to make a real case. You’re not the monster they tried to make you out to be, Y/N. Not even close.”

Y/N’s hands trembled, and she bit her lip, trying to keep herself together. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to be like that. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just—I wanted to protect my children.”

Sophie’s expression softened, and she took a step closer, her voice low and comforting. “I know. And that’s why we’re going to keep fighting for you. Because you did what any mother would do. You saved them.”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes again, this time not from pain, but from a release she hadn’t realized she needed. For so long, she had carried the weight of everything, questioning her choices, her actions, even her worth. But now, there was a glimmer of something—hope, maybe—that she could finally hold onto.

“I’m scared,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that no one will believe me.”

Sophie reached out, gently resting her hand on Y/N’s. “They will. I promise you. This is just the beginning.”

As Sophie spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but glance over at Paul, who had quietly stayed in the corner, watching the exchange with a thoughtful look on his face.

Sophie noticed the look, following Y/N’s gaze. “You know, I spoke to that Mr Edgecomb before I came in. He’s got your back, Y/N, apparently all the guards in the Mile do. And you’ve got his. Don’t forget that.”

The words settled over her like a soft blanket, but Y/N still couldn’t shake the sense of being lost in this maze of memories, of guilt. She wanted to believe in the future Sophie was painting for her, but the past held too many shadows. Still, for the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself a small glimmer of hope.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered to Sophie, the words carrying the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

Sophie gave her a small, knowing smile. “We’re not giving up, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

[in-love-with-movies]

We Were Soldiers (2002)

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[saint-petah-the-good]

Wallpaper saving private ryan

[bumpkinbitch]

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

said you’re a wild mustang

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

i promise I’ll have your requests out as soon as i can. For the meantime, enjoy this board of my favourite beautiful bumpkin🌞

[jeremydaviesarchive]

publicity stills and behind the scenes of Saving Private Ryan (1998).

[annalucaschmitz]

Brooo they are fineeeweee

[theverystrangegirl27]

. ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁

I'd Tell Them Put Me Back In

. ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Summary: Daniel, being just a week away from leaving for war, devotes your body and soul to memory.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise kink, light breeding kink

Daniel makes love to you like you're something holy, something divine. He carves his hips into yours, cradling your head so your face is tucked up into his neck.

He lives for the soft, wet gasps for breath you let out as he buries himself inside of you.

Daniel kisses your temple.

“I know, pretty girl, I know.” He coos, sweet as ever.

“Danny,” you whimper, mouth hanging open around sharp, breathless pants.

Daniel shushes you, thrusting deeply.

“Feel so good, made f'me, angel.” He grunts, teeth grit as he moves to press his forehead to yours.

“Look at me, Y/N, c'mon baby.”

You try, eyelids fluttering as they struggle to stay open. His pretty blue eyes have you captivated, and you roll your hips to meet his next thrust.

He smiles, lazy and loving.

“There she is, there's my girl.”

You feel too fucked out to respond verbally, flushed pink all the way down to your chest. All you can do is lock your arms around his neck and pull Daniel down for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

He groans into it, lost in the very sensation of you. If he could, Daniel would make a home for himself between your legs, a place of worship in the spread of your hips. God made you for him, the dip of your waist fitting perfectly into his hands.

Your cunt pulses around him, and you let out a beautiful high cry that sounds like a chorus of angels welcoming him home.

“Fuck,” He moans into your neck, his hips working faster. “God almighty, baby, fuck!”

Your legs are wrapped around Daniel, keeping him pressed tight against you, and you stroke his hair as he chases his own orgasm.

“Please, Danny, I want it,” you whisper, voice trembling and soft as his hips begin to stutter. “Give me your baby, please, please -”

“Y/N-” Daniel gasps, breathing hard as he fills you up. You moan happily, kissing across his face as he catches his breath, hips stilling as he presses into you as deeply as he can.

With another soft moan, he rests his head in the crook of your neck, kissing the sweat-salty skin there. Daniel's hands hold your waist, gentle and kind, as you both take a moment to collect yourselves.

You watch his face, how his eyelashes flutter across his cheek bones, the way his lips part. You stroke Daniel's back, fingernails raising goosebumps in their wake.

“I don't want you to go.” You say softly.

He lifts his head, eyes immediately softening when they meet yours.

Daniel reaches up, cupping your beautiful face in both hands.

“You know I have to.” He says, though you can tell it pains him to say it. You nod, smiling though it doesn't reach your eyes.

“I know.”

He leans in to kiss you. Daniel's so gentle with you, like you're the most precious thing he's ever had the privilege to hold. You know he'll make a fantastic father when he comes home.

If he comes home.

That thought makes you tear up a little, and you sniffle as he pulls away.

“Hey,” Daniel soothes, wiping away the lone tear falling down your cheek. “Hey, pretty girl, none a’ that now.”

“I'm sorry,” you whimper, embarrassed but so scared for your man you can't help it. “Just, what if something happens and you're all alone and I can't-”

“Y/N,” He interrupts gently. He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I'm gonna do my best to come back to you, honey.”

Daniel kisses you briefly before continuing.

“I promise you that.”

You nod, looking up at him with those pretty tears stained eyes that drive him wild. He can't help but kiss you again.

“‘Sides,” He says with a small smile. “S'long as I got the good Lord on my side, I think I'll be just fine.”

You smile back, fingers going to the golden cross dangling from the chain around his neck.

You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to the heated metal.

“I love you, Danny.”

Daniel gathers you up in his arms, his softening cock pulling out of you as he rearranges you both. Once you're lying on his chest, he kisses the top of your head.

Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks about the future, how he'll be halfway around the world by next week.

“I love you too, angel.”

[iceman-kazansky]

Heyaaa I saw that you are writing for private Jackson so I’ve come to kindly ask you this 🙏:

Could you write a fic where there is a female reader who is a soldier who joined the squad and she falls in love with private Jackson and he falls in love with her? And omg please include the scene where he is abt to be killed by the tank but she saves him by destroying the tank( she‘s a super badass) with a bazooka and they survive till the end( maybe you could also include a little Timeskip at the end where they‘re married?🥹)

I‘m sorry if this is too long it‘s just that there are not many fics about Jackson and I love that man 😔🫶🏻

Anyways, have a good day ❤️

As Long As It's With You

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: ^^

Request: ^^

Pairings: Daniel Jackson x f!soldier!reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, kissing, swearing

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: I finally got the motivation (and time) to write this and MAY have gotten a little carried away 😭 Anyways!! Hope you enjoy this! I don't mention them being married, but I'd say it's implied?? Or really, up to interpretation.

Taglist: @footprintsinthesxnd @inglourious-imagines @anamiad00msday @grenadesandglory

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩

Cold soil reached around his boot soles, his rifle hanging heavily off one shoulder.

The other soldiers were conversing amongst each other, making jokes and backhanded comments to the new guy.

What was his name again? Daniel mused. Dunham, or something like that.

Daniel shrugged, he couldn't be bothered to remember his name right away. He'd hardly met the guy.

“Put me anywhere up to a mile near Hitler with a clear shot,” Daniel suddenly chimed in as the conversation shifted to the war, “and we'll be packin’ up because the wars over.”

A few of the men snickered, and you joined them.

The noise caught Daniel's attention, who’d only thrown you a stray glance or two in passing. He turned his gaze just quick enough to see the smile that graced your lips and the crinkle of your eyes.

For a brief moment, you met gazes, everything around Daniel dulled as he allowed himself to finally get a good look at you.

Your uniform was dirty, as was everyone else's. Bits of mud and sand collected on your chest, elbows, and end of your trousers, on your blouse and right at your socks, which barely peeked out. As you walked, your gun was cradled by your fingers casually, the stock resting just hardly on your lower waist to where your arms fully extended. A lot more casually than the other new guy, who held onto his with white-knuckled strength, swinging it and pointing it rather recklessly– something Irwin had snapped at him for already.

Suddenly, his foot hit a patch of particularly uneven and mucky ground, forcing himself from his haze as he was forced to avert his gaze. He glared at his now muddied boot before casting one last look at you and continuing on.

Little did he know, this small, seemingly obscure moment was the first of many.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The squad was resting in a church for the night and you were seated on one of the pew. Miller had made rounds and told everyone to go asleep. Daniel had been asleep, but he'd woken as the others drifted off.

Only, Daniel wasn't alone. You were sat up slightly, head poking up over the back of a pew. A nearby candle illuminated your soft features. Daniel was laying on his side, supposed to be sleeping but his eyes were glued to you.

He examined the highlights of your cheeks, which were stained with an orange glow of flame, serving to accentuate the contour of your face.

“You're staring.” You spoke up quietly and Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin.

You turned to look at him, the light in your eyes shimmered like precious stones, glistening in the flickering light of the dim candles. Your face had a small, amused smile present and Daniel felt his heart flutter.

Snapping out of his small reverie, a sheepish smile creeped onto Daniel's face, tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been caught red handed. “Sorry,” he murmured, thick southern accent a sincere and apologetic tone. Though, he wasn't really sorry. You were hard not to admire, but he wasn’t about to go about telling you, or himself for that matter, that.

Silence settled back over the two of you. You didn't turn away, and Jackson was thankful for that.

The only sound in the church was the quiet hiss of a candle as it touched its own melted wax and the noises produced by that of the others, a soft murmur- a shuffle of clothes from those asleep and those awake. It was serene, in an odd way. The hellish battlefield outside dulled by the warm and welcoming church.

After a while, Daniel gathered his courage to speak again, “You look tired.”

You simply nodded, confirming his suspicions while Daniel watched the way your hair shifted with the action. Your gaze turned down to your hands, where you picked at your nails. “I am. Just can't sleep.”

Daniel wondered if the sudden nail-picking was a nervous tick. “How come?” He questioned.

Shoulders lifting slightly, you shrugged in reply, “I'm not entirely sure. Might be nerves. Might be my mind.”

The blond haired boy nodded. He understood. It was something he struggled with himself. He was struggling with it now.

“How come you’re still awake?” You inquired.

“Same reason,” Daniel replied simply. “I wasn't before, though.”

A voice somewhere across the church someone hissed out a “Shh!” and you and him stopped talking.

Daniel observed as slowly, you stood from your spot on the pew. Taking a moment to stretch, arms reaching over your head and a yawn falling from your lips. You ambled the few steps it took to reach where he was.

Without warning you sat down next to him, some part if your gear clinking against the ground before you drew your knees to your chest. Daniel sat up with you, blanket he'd used falling to his lap.

Quietly, you began conversing again. Daniel smiled a little at the notion. You talked about anything and everything– where you were from, your family, your school years, your time in basic. Not a thing was spared. And truthfully, Daniel didn't mind. It was nice hearing you talk, your voice drew him in until he was entirely absorbed with what you were saying and clinging onto everything you said.

You asked him questions, too. Asked about his home life. What he did before the war. What he'd planned to do after.

He was mid sentence, answering a question of yours, when he felt something on his shoulder. He stopped mid sentence, glancing down and seeing you passed out.

A small smile lit up his face. He slowly and cautiously opted to lean back to sit against the wall, providing somewhere comfier to be.

The only noise he earned was a small murmur, causing him to freeze while his breath involuntarily ceased. You didn't stir awake, and Daniel sighed in relief. He relaxed, feeling his own drowsiness creeping up through his system, clawing its way up to reach his eyelids.

Together on the floor, thats how sleep greeted the two of you. Daniel eventually dozed off, head resting on top of yours gently.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The squad kneeled around a wounded Irwin. Bullet holes punched through his skin while blood oozed from the gaping holes. Someone grabbed their canteen, pouring water over his blood-stained stomach while wiping their hands along the skin. Their efforts were in vain when in a few seconds his stomach was red again. No matter how many times they wiped, the blood just kept coming. Another soldier poured sulfa powder on the wounds.

Daniel kneels at his head, supporting his neck and cradling his head while he looks at his own wounds.

“Tell us how to fix you,” Upham speaks, standing a little bit away while Irwin squirms in pain.

The young boy stammered that he'd like some morphine, wincing while someone complied, giving him a shot of morphine.

“I don't wanna die,” Irwin whimpers, voice frail and unlike anything he's ever heard from the medic before.

Someone shushes him softly, murmuring comforting words to him, but Daniel's too absorbed to recall who.

“Give him another one,” He whispers, watching Horvath give him another shot of the analgesic.

Daniel swallows thickly, watching helplessly while Irwin bleeds to death slowly, his life leaving him like water from a glacier, ebbing away slowly.

“Mama,” Irwin suddenly whimpers, and he feel the medic start to panick. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home”

Irwin lays his head back, allowing himself to go limp against Daniels palms that cradle the nape of his neck and lower half of his head. “Mama.” he says again, though it gurgles from his throat like a drowned man, and his eyes droop.

Finally, he goes completely quiet and limp, his eyes glazing over. His chest freezes and face goes blank.

He's gone.

Irwin, is dead.

Daniel stands up, Mike following not far behind as they storm up the hill. Reiben, who'd already left the scene earlier, beats on one of the still alive German soldiers. He kicks him before wrestling his collar into his hands and lifting him up to eye level. Daniel and Mike join him, landing blow after blow to his body and face.

He's angry, upset that Irwin died. Everyone is.

“Jackson,” Captain Miller speaks up, having trudged up the hill with the rest of the squad to stand behind them, “You’re hit.”

Daniel panics, eyes meeting a red patch on his bicep. He sighs in relief, realizing it's just a nick. Captain Miller orders him to get it cleaned and dressed.

He fights to pull his uniform off and reach the wound. In his peripheral, Daniel sees you step in front of him.

“Here,” you murmur, eyes meeting his. Daniel notices the teary, near-tears look in your eyes. Slowly, your hands move to help unbutton his wool tunic, “let me help.”

He doesn't say a word, standing still while his hands lower, allowing you to work freely on his arm. Your presence fills him with a strong sense of calm, forcing his anger to melt.

You reach into a bag on your hip. It's Irwins. You must've grabbed it while Daniel was running up the hill to lay his fists on the German.

At the mental mention of the man, a burst of fury ignites deep in his chest. His eyes leave your figure to glare daggers at the man.

He is only brought back to the moment when you pour some water from your canteen onto his wound, wiping your hands around the cut before opening a pack of sulfa powder on the open gash.

Unwinding a ribbon of thin bandage, you begin wrapping his arm. Your movements are delicate and precise.

Once you've finished with the wound on his arm you reach down and grab his hands. They're stained red, evidence of Irwin's death clinging to him. You bring your canteen up again, dumping some water into his palms. “Rub,” You instruct him, and he does. He keeps rubbing while you add the appropriate amount of water until most of the blood is gone.

“Thank you,” Daniel says after you've finished. He notices the way your hands linger on his, perhaps for a moment too long. There's a gushy feeling in his stomach and he wonders if it was intentional.

He doesn't get a chance to contemplate any further before you're pulling away, hands falling away (which Daniel feels the action force a frown to his features) and sauntering off without another word.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Daniel would consider himself in deep trouble.

He'd fallen for you. And hard.

What had started out as a quirked eyebrow because ‘they had a new squad member.. and she was a woman’ had somehow, in some way, shifted into the strongest rush of adoration he'd ever felt for someone.

And you were seemingly clueless. That was the thing– you just kept on doing what you were doing and Daniel couldn't help but become absolutely enamoured by you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn't resist, even if he tried.

Like now. There's some singer playing over a gramophone, and Daniel can faintly hear it from his high up perch in the clock tower.

He watched you from afar. It wasn't impossible to spot you, even if he was where he was.

However, the moment didn't last long. He, from his high perch, noticed the large German group rolling into town. Quickly, he signalled down to captain Miller, watching as everyone on the ground dispersed.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Screeching filled the streets. The side of a track came into view and you realized it to be one of the tank.

“Shit,” you muttered, ducking into cover as it rolled into town.

You looked sideways, finding the rocket launcher the team had bestowed you lying on its side.

The tank screeched to a halt, swaying where it stood. It fired off a few shots, the sound of them crackling like lightning in rapid succession.

You peeked over the top of your cover, watching as the tank slowly began pointing to the sky. Following its angle, you found the only thing it could be shooting at. The bell tower.

Picking up the heavy weapon you aimed it carefully towards the tank. You only had one shot at this. The side of the track, which was fully exposed to you, would be your best bet.

You pulled the trigger. The explosive round shot from the barrel with a whoosh, leaving you no time to react as you were met with an explosion of fiery orange and red. Shrapnel flew past in chunks, ranging from big to small.

The explosion drew attention to yourself and before you knew it, gunshots were raining down on your position. You dived to the floor as the pile of rubble you hid behind were pelted with shots, dust flying up.

A few cracks– one at a time, but quick in succession – filled your ears. You recognized it to be sniper fire, turning your head to watch as a handful of the firing soldiers fell. Taking advantage of the covering fire, you bolted behind one of the buildings. You hugged the rocket launcher to your heaving chest with your rifle slung over your shoulder.

You set the large tube down, grabbing your rifle and firing off a few shots.

The battle raged on around you, until you were eventually forced to retreat to the bridge.

Mike Horvath was shot, and soon after so was Captain Miller. Mellish and Upham was nowhere to be seen, Daniel was still in the bell tower, Reiben dived for cover, and Ryan was crying, rocking in fear as the world exploded around him.

You leaped to your feet, standing from your cover because you'd be damned if James Ryan were to die now after all the sacrifice. You quickly grabbed hold of him when everyone began to fall back. He didn't protest, only followed you as you gripped his sleeve and dashed.

There was a sharp sting in your calf and it caused you to stumble in your step. You glanced back to see red coating the back of your leg. You'd been shot? Thankfully, when you stumbled, James wasn't completely incompetent and was able to keep you standing. Together, you ran for cover.

Suddenly, there was a roar overhead. A glint of silver in the sky followed by the thunderous shots of cannons. The tank that was crossing the bridge blown to smithereens.

Someone cried out of joy while the P-51’s did a few laps on the German foot soldiers. The battle was coming to an end.

But your mind wasn't on the battle anymore. It was on Daniel. Where was he? How was he?

You scanned through the growing mass. Was he here? Was he alive?

The thought that maybe he wasn't still alive– that he was another casualty like Caparzo, Irwin, and now Mellish, Horvath, and Miller, sent a chill up your spine.

Quivering, you fought to calm yourself.

‘Maybe he was still in the clock tower and hadn't climbed down yet’ you told yourself.

But that only worked so long. The battle had been over for a while now. 15 minutes, you figured.

You scanned the area again, feeling an uneasiness building in the pit of your stomach.

But there– through the small crowd, there he stood. His face had a small splatter of blood, but besides that and a little grime from the previous journey he was unscathed.

A sigh of relief tumbled from your lips and you found your feet stumbling to him. The pain in your calf seared up your leg, causing you pain, discomfort, and a limp as you walked.

Panic crosses Daniel's face, his usual observant self not failing to notice your injury. A sheepish smile creeps across your face as he meets you halfway.

“I got it saving private Ryan,” you said, feeling oddly guilty under his gaze.

He just stares, not saying a word in reply, but you notice the way his eyes glide across your face. Eventually, his gaze stops at your own. You notice the concern first, being that it's as evident as a red flower in a green field. There's a sense of relief that swims in his gaze and lingers in his features, however. It's the way his muscles relax, even if it's just in the slightest. How his shoulder drops and a deep exhale leaves his lips.

With the lack of respondence, you're starting to feel nervous. “It's not bad, I promise. I'll get a medic to check on it–”

You've barely finished what you've said before suddenly he's there. Planting his lips against yours, smoothing They're slightly cracked and dry, but you don't care. It sends a rush straight to your stomach, fireworks explode like grenades. The touch of one of his hands to gently cup your cheek has you subconsciously leaning into the pads of his calloused fingers. His other hand holds your waist gently while he–

The moment is shattered instantly. You shift your weight, accidentally placing the weight of your body onto your injured foot. Wincing, you withdraw with a hiss. “My leg,” you offer when his eyes ignite with fear, hoping to explain yourself.

Daniel sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes momentarily.

“When the war is over, come home with me,” he suggests after a minute. He opens his eyes, gazing into yours. “Please,” he pleads, “come to Tennessee with me. I want to do this with you. I want to be with you and do these kinds of things. I wouldn't rather it be anyone else.”

You smile. It's like a dream come true, actually. “As long as it's with you, I'll go anywhere,” you murmur, moving to place another kiss on his lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The radio hums quietly, filling your home with music. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes.

The first song ends, and you hardly notice the next song that comes on.

‘Nous nous aimions bien tendrement,’ the radio belts, and you vaguely recognize the tune as familiar. But from where?

You stop what you're doing and listen, withdrawing your hands from the sink while trying to remember where you'd heard this before.

‘Tu es partout car tu es dans mon coeur’

‘Tu es partout car tu es mon bonheur,’

It instantly snaps once you've heard half the chorus.

It's the french song from Ramelle. The song transports you three years back. A time when you're back there in the ruined town. Sitting on the stairs near the gramophone, sun on your face, while the french music fills your ears. The calm before the storm. And it's just as vivid in your mind as the day it occurred.

Daniel comes into the kitchen, his face looking curious. “What's this?” He asks upon hearing the french music.

You've lit up, crossing the floor to him. “It's the song from Ramelle,” you murmur, a soft smile on your face.

For a few more moments the song carries on, and Daniel pauses to listen and identify the music, too.

“Dance with me?” You ask. It's impossible for Daniel to resist when you've already intertwined your hands with his.

He nods and slowly you begin swaying around the kitchen.

Daniel's arms lower to circle your waist. Your own arms reach up to rest on his shoulders.

The world around you doesn't matter anymore. Not when you're like this. When he's looking at you like that. With such a fondness present in his wonderful blue eyes while he takes you in. How his eyes draw you in, committing you to memory. The contour of your face. The way your eyes crinkle slightly. He stares down at you with something you wouldn't ever doubt was love.

And you stared back into his eyes with just the equal amount of love, for you were absolutely smitten for the blond haired boy. Perhaps you had been since you'd locked eyes over a joke and a laugh in a field

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[forestvaleska]

THE CAST EVERRR!!! THE GUYSSS!!!

Spr the movie ever actually

[stargiirl27]

[thoughtfulangeltidalwave]

You and Me (Part 1)

First time doing this. Severe lack of Dean Stanton content everywhere so if you like it I’m happy🩷

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The van rattled down the cracked, uneven road, its tires crunching gravel as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Inside, Y/N sat on the cold metal bench, her wrists bound in chains that bit into her skin with every jolt. She barely noticed. Her gaze lingered on the small, grimy window across from her. Through it, she caught fleeting glimpses of the outside world: fields fading into shadows, a rusted barbed-wire fence that stretched endlessly, trees with branches outstretched, and the occasional flicker of sunlight painting streaks on her face.

But it wasn’t the scenery she saw. It was her children.

She could almost hear their laughter, clear and bright like church bells on a Sunday morning. She could see the way her youngest grinned when he lost his front teeth, the way her eldest scrunched her nose when she concentrated on her drawings. Those memories felt like they belonged to someone else now, someone who lived a lifetime ago, someone who was supposed to be happy, someone who wasn’t her. And yet, the warmth those fleeting memories brought her was bittersweet, mingled with the ache of knowing she would never see them again.

Her fingers curled into her palms, she felt a dull pain… but that was all she’d ever felt, pain was the only thing that she knew would be with her forever. But she couldn’t let herself cry. 

Not here. 

Not now.

At the front of the van, Dean Stanton glanced into the rearview mirror. His eyes lingered on the woman sitting quietly in the back, her face bathed in the amber light of the setting sun. She didn’t look like someone who belonged in chains. There was no defiance in her, no cruelty, no bitterness, no hate, just a calmness that he couldn’t quite place, like she’d already made peace with the worst.

It unsettled him.

Dean shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing. Over the years, he’d seen countless prisoners come through the gates of Cold Mountain, each one carrying their own unique weight of guilt or resignation. But this woman… She was different. There was something almost fragile about her, like she might shatter if handled too harshly.

And yet, there was a strength there too, buried deep beneath the surface, she wouldn’t cry, she just seemed so distant.

The van came to a slow stop inside the gates of the prison the clang of the metal doors locking behind them sent a shiver through Y/N, pulling her back to the present, back to her end. 

Dean stepped out first, his boots crunching on the gravel. He walked around to the back and unlocked the doors, his movements steady and unhurried. When the doors opened she didn’t look at him, her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. Dean had seen it before, fear, fear and the knowledge the mile was all that was left. He slowly climbed into the van and sat opposite her.

“You’ll be alright,” he said, his voice low and calm as he met her eyes. “The guards on the Mile…we’ll look out for you. Anything you need, you’re safe with us”

For a moment, Y/N could only stare at him. No one had spoken to her like that in years—not with kindness, not without an ulterior motive lurking beneath their words. Her throat felt tight, and she forced herself to look away, but after a breath her eyes met his again and she felt brave enough to manage a soft, “Thank you” before looking away again

Dean nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes that lingered.

The moment shattered as Percy Wetmore strode up from the front of the van, his smirk already plastered across his face. Always the indelicate man he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, his gaze falling on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Well, well,” Percy drawled, his tone laced with mockery. “Look what we’ve got here. Hope you’re ready for the grand tour, sweetheart” he drawled.

Y/N stiffened, her muscles coiling with unease, she knew that tone, it reminded her of Him. Percy reached for her arm, his grip too firm despite Y/N trying to pull away, but before he could pull her out, Dean grabbed Percy’s wrist.

“That’s enough, Percy,” Dean said, his voice firm but measured. Percy let go and Dean was able to throw his wrist away causing Percy to stumble out of the back of the van, though he regained himself quickly he was undoubtedly shamed. 

Dean turned his back to the younger man, blocking him from Y/N entirely. Reaching out, he offered her his hand.

“I’m sorry about him, I promise he won’t touch you again. Just take your time,” Dean said, his tone softer now, his eyes never leaving her. 

“Watch your step.” Y/N hesitated, her gaze darting between the two men. Percy’s scowl was dark, his lips curling in disdain, but Dean’s calm presence felt like a shield, a small reprieve from the sharp edges of the world. With his hand still outstretched slowly Y/N took his hand. His grip was steady, warm, comforting, and it steadied something in her, she hadn’t even realised was trembling until he put his other hand on her waist slowly and steadily guided her out of the van.

As her feet touched the ground, the towering walls of Cold Mountain loomed before her, stark and unyielding against the fading light. The weight of the place pressed down on her chest, she shouldn’t been here…

But for a fleeting moment, the memory of Dean’s kindness cut through the suffocating fear.

Percy muttered something under his breath, stalking ahead with a sour expression, but Y/N didn’t hear him. Her focus remained on the building before her, the place where she would meet her end. And then there was Dean, who walked beside her as if to silently promise he wouldn’t let her face this alone.

The gates of E block closed behind them away with a deafening clang as the van rode ,and Y/N knew she was stepping into a new kind of hell. But for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest glimmer of something she couldn’t quite name.

Maybe it was hope.

[baldurswifey]

Posting this here for the tumblr babes, I wish there were more edits on tiktokkk😭😭

Made sure to tag them all, long ass list of tags

[yourspeirs]

Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight: My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.

[awaterfalls]

this cast 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

[sacredwhores]

Spike Lee - 25th Hour (2002)