#took me about 2 guns to his head to convince him to do it but its fine

[dilutedconfusion]

Damn, these bitches in love…good for them though, good for them….

[janaispunk]

come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up. 

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality. 

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move. 

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine. 

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff. 

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.” 

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?” 

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking. 

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?” 

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking. 

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.” 

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal. 

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance. 

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising. 

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach. 

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake. 

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. 

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast. 

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all. 

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?” 

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile. 

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers. 

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?” 

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?” 

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move. 

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.” 

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back. 

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding. 

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again” 

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you. 

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts. 

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait. 

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.” 

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.” 

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her. 

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him. 

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story. 

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies. 

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well. 

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?” 

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity. 

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective. 

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask. 

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table. 

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something. 

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?” 

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction. 

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze. 

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more. 

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast. 

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?” 

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red. 

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night. 

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story. 

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile. 

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs. 

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[cod-dump]

König publicly swore to his team if he ever met the Ghost in person he would wrestle him on site. When Ghost heard the rumor he loudly bragged that he could win in 5 minutes.

The 2 teams meet for a shared mission and these legends lock eyes for the first time in front of both teams. And immediately start acting like rival bull moose. Literally crashing heads like rams trying to pin each other to the ground. No finesse no words no posturing just grunting and wrestling like they gotta prove something. Idiot college fuckboi jock style.

All the on lookers are just 😐. Horangi is confused but not, gaz is struggling to comprehend, soap is stoked, and price is filing for retirement as it all goes down.

Turns out the 2 legends are pretty evenly matched and they are beyond pissed about it. An hour in and they are no closer to a victor. The teams now have a betting pool going and price has called Kate to convince her to accept his resignation right now please, I can't do this anymore.

-sorry this is long. It got away from me a little

Everyone thought it was a joke, that the rumor circulating about KorTac’s colonel wanting to wrestle 141’s Ghost upon first meeting, it couldn’t possibly be real. But it was, to Ghost at least. He wanted it to be real, he wanted the infamous Konig wanting to challenge him to a test of strength. It was a ego boost, it made him even more annoying.

“It’s not real, LT. Why would the colonel want to fight you?”

“Wrestle, Garrick! He sees me as a challenge!”

“Hmm, right…”

Soap wasn’t helping the situation, he was also convinced the rumor was true… or he wanted Ghost to go pick a fight with Konig, Gaz wasn’t sure which one it was, honestly. Price was only partially bothered by it, maybe because he believed it was just Ghost fucking around and that he actually wouldn’t go head to head with the colonel.

If only that was the case.

The chance of running into KorTac’s colonel while on the field was extremely low, but it still happened. Both teams froze in shock at the appearance of the other, and Konig immediately looked at Ghost before shoving his gun into the arms of the closest operator. The excitement that took Ghost as he all but threw his gun at Gaz before charging Konig.

“This isn’t fucking happening.”

It was. Ghost was currently trying to overpower Konig who was trying to throw him to the ground. The KorTac men and women just blinked before a couple took their phone out and started recording. Gaz wasn’t sure how to feel, just watching Ghost all too eagerly take on a literal mountain of a killing machine like a kid on Christmas while Soap cheered him on loudly.

Oh, Price walked off, too. Lovely.

[roseghoul26]

Part 1

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

“C’mon, we’re heading out. And make sure you bring that rifle.”

Arthur’s voice caused you to look up from polishing said rifle, the freshly cleaned barrel glinting in the afternoon sun. Before you stood the cowboy, one hand resting casually on his gun belt, the other rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. 

Narrowing your eyebrows, you stood, strapping the gun across your back. “You’re worried,” you stated, and you watched his movement halt. “Why?” 

“Dutch says… well how’d you know that? I ain’t even said anything yet.”

“You don’t need to say anything, cowboy. But that’s beside the point. Dutch says…?” You gestured for him to continue. 

You swore you heard him mutter something about you being a damn witch before he turned around, leading you to where the horses were hitched at the front of your camp. The new camp, Clemens Point, was starting to grow on you, even with all the bugs and coyotes around. The access to water was nice, and it was close enough to cities to not be a burden to go to, but far enough away from big populaces to live an outlaw lifestyle. As the two of you walked, Arthur began explaining the new plan that Dutch had roped you two into. 

“Pearson said he met some O’Driscolls, who claim Colm is willing to ‘negotiate peace’ with Dutch.” Arthur sounded as convinced as you felt.

“You’re kidding me.” 

“I swear to you. Don’t know what’s gonna come from it, but it’s a start.”

“You really believe Colm’ll just stop fighting Dutch?”

“Not really. But Micah got Dutch convinced he would, and crazier things have happened…” For the second time, you watched him rub the back of his neck. 

“You think it’s a trap, don’t you?” 

“I’d be a fool not to.”

By this time you had reached your horses, yours a large black and white war horse, his a brown Appaloosa.You went to go pick up your saddle which lay across the hitching post, but when your hands made contact with the leather, Arthur playfully swatted your hands away, picking the saddle up himself, heaving it up and over the horse with a light grunt. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, allowing you to fully appreciate his muscular forearms as he lifted with ease.

“Hey-” you began, before getting silenced with a look from the cowboy. 

After quickly securing the saddle, he held out his hand expectantly, slightly tipping himself downward in a mock bow. A cheeky smirk adorned his face. “Your ride is ready, princess.”

“I ain’t no princess,” you scoffed, but you still took his hand gingerly, unable to stop a faint smile from growing on your own face, and you stepped into one of the stirrups, using Arthur's hand to help bring your body fully over the saddle. 

His hand still held yours as he responded. “No you ain’t,” his gaze, which was playful, turned into something fonder and gentler, a look you’ve seen him give you time and time again. “You’re something better.”

Leaning down until you were almost at eye level with him, you swore you felt him squeeze your hand ever so tighter, and you spoke low, slightly husky. “And what would that be, Arthur Morgan?”

His eyes widened, and you watched his eyes flick up and down your face, trying to determine if your flirtatious tone was a joke or not. A few seconds passed before he opened his mouth to respond. “You’re-”

“C’mon lovebirds! Hurry up!” Micah’s shouting broke whatever trance the two of you had been in, and you felt Arthur quickly drop your hand like it was scalding, stepping back to create an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. A light dusting of pink covered both of your faces, his blue eyes looking everywhere but you, and a quick scan of the camp told you that Micah wasn’t the only one watching the two of you: Javier and Charles shared a look, the hunter laughing gently as the other shook his head; Tilly and Mary-Beth were furiously whispering to each other, glancing over at the two of you every other second.

Clearing your throat, you straightened back up, urging your horse forward as Arthur mounted his, catching up to Micah and Dutch who sat waiting at the entrance to camp. A few seconds later you heard Arthur approach, settling at your right side. “Ready?” Dutch asked, turning and leaving once receiving nods from you and the others. Following suit with Dutch and Micah in the lead, you settled in for the ride. 

Glancing over to the cowboy to your right, you watched him chat with Dutch, not paying attention to the conversation as you took in the man who has plagued every thought in your brain for the last two years. It was no secret you were head-over-heels for Arthur; you had been for at least the past two years. The two of you had been friends for at least four years at this point, becoming close when you joined the gang after a partially-successful pickpocket attempt against Dutch (you had managed to snag his gold pocket watch, but were subsequently caught a few minutes later once he realized). Despite that, he had offered you a place with the gang. You accepted, partially because you needed money, a place to sleep, and could possibly make friends, but you also joined because you finally had a place to put your niche talents to use. 

Arthur and you became close quickly, and you worked together well, meaning you were often sent out together for jobs. It was a platonic relationship, but the two of you always danced the line of platonic and romantic, flirty remarks being tossed around wildly. It wasn’t until the last year or two where you felt yourself start to actually fall in love with the cowboy, and the flirting wasn’t helping. It was the age old tale of falling for your best friend, and feeling too afraid to say anything in case it wasn’t reciprocated, possibly ruining said friendship. 

It wasn’t hard to fall for him. For all the hard front he puts up, he has a kind heart, going out of his way to help folks (he usually preferred when a reward was offered, but would do things begrudgingly if none was presented). He was loyal, staying by Dutch’s side through thick and thin, and had humor drier than a desert. And he wasn’t bad on the eyes either, a thinker body built from years of labor, skin tanned and scars from years in the wild and sun. Eyes bluer than the ocean, you found yourself always drowning in their depths. 

You hadn’t realized you had been staring at him until you heard him say your name, slightly loud, as if he had been trying to get your attention for a bit. He laughed, “I asked, ‘he treating you well?’” 

When you gave him a confused look, he pointed downwards to your horse, which Arthur had bought for you a few weeks ago after your previous horse was shot by some Lemoyne Raiders. “He is,” you stroked his mane affectionately, earning you a content huff from the beast. “Thank you again, Arthur.”

“It’s nothing, really. You named him yet?”

“I have. You ever read Charles Dickens?” 

“Ain’t much of a reader,” he responded. 

“His name is Tiny Tim, from A Cristmas Carol. My mom would read it every year ‘round Christmas time.”

“Tiny Tim? There ain’t nothing tiny ‘bout that beast!”

“That’s what’s funny!” You laughed, and Arthur just shook his head, trying and failing to hide his own laughter. 

“Yer cute,” he said, nonchalantly, like he had no idea he was actually saying it. You just stared at him, caught off guard by his seemingly very genuine statement. Now it was his turn to be confused, and he cocked his head to side, glancing at you quizzically. 

Dutch’s voice had snapped your gazes back forward, meeting his eyes as he turned to talk. “You know, I’ve been fighting Colm for so long now… I can barely remember a time when it was different.”

The man to your right finally looked away from you, his expression harding as he responded. “And you’re still fighting him now, make no mistake of that.”

“Here he goes…” Micah began. “Doubting Thomas… is there any plan you ain’t sour on?”

“Maybe you’re right. I’m just nervous. Let’s not waste any more lives needlessly.”

“I ain’t costing lives here… I’m saving them. What did you say, we had Pinkertons coming after us?”

“Because of Blackwater,” you chimed in. 

Micah continued, “And Leviticus Cornwall and his private army! Then… who knows when this local hillbilly thing will come to a head, hm? Can we really afford to be fighting on all these fronts, and O’Driscoll?”

The group was silent for a moment, all chewing on the words spoken by the blonde man. 

“There is wisdom in that,” Dutch finally said. 

“For once,” you muttered, thinking you were unheard until you heard a chuckle from your right. 

“Oh, I hope so, gentlemen, but… like I said, I’m nervous.”

“Yeah, me too,” you added. “Feels too good to be true.”

Now it was Micah’s turn to shift around his saddle to face you. “Look, you ain’t even going to be the one in danger… we’ll get on over there… find a nice perch for you to settle your pretty self into… you got that rifle, don’t you?”

Choosing to ignore that one particular comment of his, you tapped the strap across the shoulder that held your rolling block rifle, one of your most prized possessions. “Never leave without it,” you said, failing to notice the way that Arthur glared daggers into Micah, who continued talking.

“Then me, Dutch, and Arthur walk right into the lion’s den, with you to cover us.”

“Just stay calm, unless I give you a reason not to,” you said, a growing tension building inside you.

Dutch gave you a reassuring smile.“Oh, we’ll be fine. We’ve got you.”

“I will do my best.”

“Oh, my dear, with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself.”

“As would I,” Micah added. 

You weren’t doubtful of your abilities as a sharpshooter, but the praise coming from the man you respected, and Micah, helped bolster your confidence, and you felt yourself sitting up straighter as you rode. “You don’t need me to tell you how great you are,” Arthur said, pausing a moment before continuing. “But I’m gonna anyway. I would go anywhere if I knew you was watching over me.”

“Now y’all are putting too much pressure on me,” you joked, trying to clear the comforting ache in your chest from Arthur’s words. “Gonna give me performance anxiety.”

“Arthur knows a thing or two ‘bout that!” 

“Micah, I swear-” he growled, and you and Dutch shared glances before breaking into laughter, the tension building up with the upcoming meeting dissipating momentarily. 

The next few minutes of riding were in comfortable silence, before Micah halted suddenly as you reached the base of the hills, the rest of you skidding to a halt behind him. “Hey, up there, men on the ridge.” 

Glancing up, you indeed saw four men atop the ridge, all four on horses, looking down on your group. You watched Dutch place a hand on his gun, already ready for things to go wrong. “O’Driscolls, from the look of them.”

“I don’t like having eyes on us.” Arthur grumbled. 

“We’re close,” Micah pointed to you. “You’ll be the eyes soon enough.”

Nodding, you swung your rifle around so it sat in your hands. “Let’s go.”

The group started back up again, riding around and up the hill. That previously dissipated tension was back, and you saw the way that Arthur’s jaw clenched as he rode. “Maybe he’s right, Dutch. Maybe I have pushed too hard. Got us into situations that… could have been safer. I just… I see all these mouths we got to feed, and I… I dream too big. Caring too much, that’s my problem.”

“The hell you on about, Micah?” You asked, Arthur nodding in agreement. The men in front both ignored you.

“Caring too much?” Dutch scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”

After giving you a look that screamed confusion, Arthur exclaimed “This is horse shit. From both of you!”

“It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O’Driscoll might be full of shit. The promise of this great nation, men create equal, liberty and justice for all… that might be nonsense too. But it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in. Can’t you see that, friend?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try. All I ask is you try.”

Finally reaching your destination, you all halted again, and you watched Micah turn around so he was face-to-face with you. “Alright, princess,” he looked directly at Arthur, jesting at the earlier interaction he interrupted, before looking back to you. “You’re gonna peel off up ahead. We’ll be meeting down on the plane. Find a spot just above us where you can keep an eye on things.”

“Alright, alright.” You responded, getting ready to leave before Arthur stopped you.

“However this shakes out, let’s aim to meet back at the fork in the road afterwards.”

“Got it. Behave yourselves, boys.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” you heard Dutch respond before him and Micah took off toward the plane. Again, you turned to leave, but you heard your name leave Arthur’s mouth. 

Glancing at him, you gave him an easy smile, before chuckling lightly. “Better get going cowboy. They’re gonna start without you.”

Your laugh died in your throat as you saw a rather serious Arthur before you, an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Be careful.” He inhaled shakily. “Please.”

“I- I will,” your answer sounded more like a question. “But it’s not me you should be worried about. I’m not going into the ‘lion’s den’, as Micah put it. I’ll be fine.”

“Just promise me if things go wrong, you’ll get the hell out of here.”

“You know I can’t promise that. But for you, I’ll certainly try.”

Knowing that was the best he was going to get from you, he just shook his head, and began to make his way toward the others. “I’ll see ya later, princess.” 

Turning so he couldn’t see your flustered state, you waved him away, laughing as you heard Micah shout hurry up, loverboy. Reaching the top of the hill, you dismounted, hitching your horse to a nearby dead tree, and as crouched at the edge, you watched through the scope of your rifle as the men waited for the O’Driscolls to arrive. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You should’ve known something was wrong when you only saw three men on the plane. 

It wasn’t the fact that one of these men was Colm himself, nor was it the fact that each of these men were armed and dangerous, ready to fire at a single wrong move from Dutch. With you watching from above, and Micah and Arthur both backing Dutch from behind, you had no doubt which side would win in a shootout. 

No, it was the fact that you remembered there being four O’Driscolls waiting atop the hill as you all approached.

At the time, as you crouched on your perch, keeping eye on the “negotiation” happening between the two gangs, you hadn’t been worried, figuring they had a person on watch as well. You should’ve looked a little harder, could’ve scanned the nearby hills and see that the fourth O’Driscoll was nowhere to be found. Maybe if you’d have done this, you wouldn’t be hung upside down in Colm’s basement, a nasty gunshot wound in your left shoulder.

The footsteps had approached quickly, and the butt of the rifle was even quicker, striking you across the face with a sickening crack. Everything went black, and you barely remember waking up strung across the back of a horse for a few moments before falling back into unconsciousness. 

You remember waking up again, and you were able to escape for a moment before one O’Driscoll was able to get you with a rope, causing you to eat shit, your head slamming against the forest floor. They had laughed to each other, before one of them held their gun up to your shoulder, an agonizing blast and a flash of white light the last thing you saw before darkness took over again. 

Now here you were, strung upside down, the blood currently rushing to your brain making it pound harder. Everything hurts, the small puddle of blood beneath you indicative of the state of your body. You’d lost track of how long you’d been here; everything became a blur after the first day. 

Colm had yet to make an appearance, his men being the ones to torture you. It was the same few men each time. They alternated from keeping you upside down to having you tied down to a chair, to having you hanging by chains that pulled at your shoulder, aggravating your wounds even further. But they never asked many questions, instead finding their answers in their knives and pokers that they carved into your flesh.

Day after day you searched for means of escape, coming up fruitless each time; his men were surprisingly well trained, making sure to not leave anything in range of you that could be used as a tool or weapon. 

However, they wanted you alive, for whatever reason. Crude first aid had been applied to your wounds, preventing infection and disease from killing you off, but the one at your shoulder continued to be the worse. Occasionally they would give you water and stale food, messily hand fed by one of the men. Despite that, every time you heard the cellar door open, you waited with bated breath for the final blow, but it never came.

The cellar they kept you in was small, musty, and lit by a single candle on a table to your right, just out of reach from where you hung. A few scraps of cloth lay on the table, covered in crimson, and a single chair sat tucked in the corner, also covered in blood. 

Trying to find any sort of comfort, you tried sitting up a bit, your abs screaming out as you managed to lift yourself up a few inches, and some of the blood returned to the rest of your body. Dizzy, you shut your eyes, letting yourself flop back down, the chains creaking above you. 

The chains were so loud that you almost failed to hear the squeak of the cellar doors opening, heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Opening one of your eyes, you saw an unfamiliar silhouette approaching, until you heard him speak your name. “It’s good to see ya.” He said, stepping fully into the cellar, the candlelight allowing you to see him fully.

“Hello, Colm,” your voice was hoarse from screaming, and you watched the greasy man step closer, a plate of food in one hand, some kind of utensil in the other. Finally opening both eyes, you  watched him place his things down on the table, the clatter of the plate barely audible over your own heartbeat. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, because before you knew it a bolt of pain tore through your body and you cried out, Colm stepping back from you after pressing his hand hard into your shoulder. 

He sneered down at you, grimy yellow teeth flashing. “How’s the wound?”

Gritting your teeth, you stared down the leader of the O’Driscolls with as much venom as you could muster, willing back the tears of pain. “Can’t feel it.”

“Whatever makes ya feel better,” he stalked over to his food, turning his back to you as he ate. “ Now, tell me…” he spoke through mouthfuls of food, “fine gun like you… why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money.”

“You know it ain’t about the money, Colm.”

“That’s right… it’s Dutch’s famous charisma.” In a blur of movement, his food forgotten, he kicked you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. Your body swung from the chains, which groaned and creaked at the movement. All you could let out was a soft wheeze, your vision going double. “You killed a whole punch of my boys… at Six Point Cabin.”

So why haven’t you killed me yet? You smirked, at least the best you could, your teeth stained red, lip splitting. “One of your own took us there. Bastards had it comin’.”

The click of a gun and the feeling of cold metal against your head made your wish you kept your mouth shut. The final blow was coming at the hands of Colm. Trying to swallow, your throat too dry to do so, you put on a brave face, even though internally you were terrified. There was so much you had left to do, so much left to tell. This wasn’t where your story ended, right?

Closing your eyes, you tried to take deep breaths, fighting down the panic bubbling inside. Do not show him you’re afraid, you thought. Don’t give him the satisfaction of you being afraid in your last moments. 

And you waited.

And waited.

You waited until you felt the barrel of the gun slowly pull away, and your eyes shot open, confused. “Yer lucky I need you alive,” Colm snarled, striking you across the face before returning his pistol to its holster, running a hand over his face while circling your body like a vulture. “Law want’s ya alive. All of ya.”

“Best of luck with that, sayin’ you only got one of us.”

“For now.”

“You planning on raiding us?” Colm didn’t respond. “You can tell me. Not leaving here soon anyway.”

“Nah,” Colm began. “Ain’t gotta go to that much trouble to round you up. We lure an angry Arthur in to rescue ya… Dutch and the others following… and  grab all of ya and hand ya in… then disappear.”

“So you only met with them to grab me?”

“Of course…” Colm chuckled. “He’s gonna be so mad. He gonna come raging over here… and a whole lot of ya… and the law’ll be waiting for him.” Sighing, he crouched down before you, his rancid breath overwhelming your senses. “Oh, I missed you.”

The first strike went to your gut. 

The second went to your bad shoulder. 

The third and final strike landed at your nose, blood spraying from the impact. 

Groaning, you felt the warm liquid streaming from your nose, joining the puddle beneath you with a soft drip, drip, drip. Colm stood up, grabbing his plate with a huff, shaking out one of hands, his knuckles slightly busted from the strikes. He didn’t say anything as he left, stomping up the stairs loudly, the door slamming shut behind him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a newfound sense of urgency to escape coming over you, needing to stop Colm’s plan from coming to fruition. Glancing around, you looked again for something to help you escape. Unlike all the other times, however, something caught your eye on the table; whatever utensil Colm had brought down sat there, glinting gently in the light. Luckily for you, it seemed like Colm wasn’t as well trained as his men.

Slowly, you began to rock yourself back and forth, trying to build up enough momentum to reach it. Holding back noises of pain, you rocked, getting closer and closer with every swing, your fingers straining and you reached, and stretched, until finally it was in your grasp. You nearly cried with relief, and after glancing at the utensil in your hand, which was a two-pronged fork, you ceased your swinging, eventually coming to a full stop. 

Hands shaking, using whatever scrap of strength you had left in your hands, you bent on of the prongs forward, creating a lockpick like instrument. Now it was time for the hard part, which was trying to reach the padlock that held the shackles around your feet, connecting you to the chains. 

Every muscle in your body was begging you to stop, shaking as you slowly started to sit up, your core working overtime to get you up. All you had to do was just reach and disengage the lock. It took a few tries until you were finally able to get it in, and then-

Click. 

You didn’t have any tie to brace yourself before you made contact with the floor, going face first into your own blood pool. Rolling on to your back, you let the world stop spinning before sitting up, glancing worriedly at the cellar door to see if anyone heard your commotion.

After no one barged in after a few moments, you began to stand up, your knees giving out as soon as you were upright. Stumbling, you practically fell into the table, nearly knocking over the candle in the process. Your arms were outstretched in front of you, bracing yourself against the table, and you saw a few droplets of blood from your nose hit the wood. Grimacing, you snatched a bloodied cloth from nearby, tearing a small amount off to block off the blood flow. 

It was at this point that you really started feeling the gunshot wound in your shoulder. After a quick assessment, you realized it was still an open wound, but it was a clean shot, meaning you wouldn’t have to dig the bullet out of you. Eying both the metal fork in your hand and the candle on the table, you mentally steeled yourself for what you were about to do. 

Dragging the chair up next to you and sitting, you heated up the metal instrument until it almost glowed, then before you could lose your nerve, you pressed it to the wound.

It wasn’t the pain that hit you first; it was the smell, which would forever be engraved in your mind. But after you clocked the smell, the pain hit you like a tidal wave. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming or not, but you continued to hold the device, waiting until you couldn’t see blood spurt out at every beat of your heart. 

Groaning, you slumped your head on the table, feeling exhausted after putting yourself through that, but you had only a few seconds to recover before you heard the door open again. Turns out your cries were very much audible. 

Pressing yourself against the wall, you heard someone begin to come down the stairs. “Hold on, I’ll be back in a minute,” you heard the stranger say. You recognized the voice; it was one of the torturers. 

The man stood at the base of the stairs, dumbfounded, as he took in the empty shackles before him. “What the hell-” That was all he was able to get out before you pounced, the tool finding a home in his throat, and he crumpled to the floor, a small gurgling leaving him before he stilled. The man, unfortunately, was only armed with a knife, which you grabbed, holding it out defensively in front of you as you climbed the stairs. You had to move; it wouldn’t be long until his friends started looking for him. 

You had almost reached the exit before two shadows approaching halted your movement, and you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Two men approached, neither of which you recognized. They were chatting as they patrolled, not really paying attention to their surroundings as they patrolled. A few tense minutes later, the figures retreated, and you dashed out as quickly as you could.

Taking in a breath of fresh air, you took in your surroundings: the two guards were to your left, their backs to you; a small shack was in front of you, and you saw some guns lying out; to your right you saw a horse hitching post, and you thanked the unseen forces of the universe that your horse was here; surrounding you were multiple houses, all you presumed were filled with O’Driscolls. 

First, you needed a weapon. Then, you were getting the hell out of here.

Moving as quietly and quickly as you could, you kept low, keeping an eye out for any other O’Driscolls. Entering the small wood shack, you grabbed the first gun you saw, and you almost left before you saw a very familiar engraved barrel out the corner of your eye. There, sitting in a wooden crate were your weapons, including your prized rifle. 

Swinging it over your shoulder, and securing your gun belt across your waist, you were actually starting to feel hopeful about your chances of survival. Keeping your stolen knife and your pistol out, you poked your head out the door, looking for any guards before taking off toward your horse, still trying to keep hidden.

Once you were close to the horses, you made your presence known, not wanting to spook them. Approaching your mount, you muttered softly, rubbing his neck affectionately. Immediately his eyes flew open, and he began rearing until he realized it was just you.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, boy.”

Something told you he felt the same. 

“Let’s go home.”

You were partially up your horse when you heard a commotion behind you. Whipping your head around, you saw a few O’Driscolls emerge from the various houses, guns out and pointed at you, shouting at you and each other. You had just managed to get on before the shots started going off, bullets whizzing past you as Tiny Tim took off like a bat out of hell, hooves barely hitting the ground as you soared across the plane. 

You could barely make out anything around you, everything a blur as the wind whipped across your battered body, relishing the feel of fresh air before hearing footsteps behind you. Glancing behind, you saw four O’Driscolls in pursuit, firing wildly in an attempt to stop you. 

Aiming behind you, you took a deep breath in, stilling yourself to the best of your ability, taking in each of your targets before squeezing the trigger.

In rapid succession, each man took a bullet to the chest, either stopping them or causing them to go flying off their horse. Within moments your pursuers were gone, leaving only you standing. After hearing no more shouting or hoofbeats, you figured it was safe to holster your weapon. Tiny Tim had slowed down some, a quick trot instead of a full out gallop. 

The adrenaline from the last ten minutes was beginning to fade, your drooping eyes evident of your waning energy. Leaving forward, you leaned forward as best you could in your saddle, your arms wrapping loosely around your horses next for some security.

“C’mon TT, get us home.” You whispered, before your eyes closed at their own volition, your thoughts only of Arthur as you slept.

[dreamwritersworld]

Disconnected… part 2. (sully family x reader)

“this is what you’ve made me become.”

…and so Jake watched his creation, the daughter he now realizes he damaged. His body ran cold as he watched her pick up a tree branch…and then he followed her chilling whistles.

Y/n thought that was all…that she got all the soldiers, until she heard rustles in the woods. There was no hesitation in the her shot. The teenage girl kicked the gun away from the soldier arms, looked directly into her fathers eyes..

“This. Is what we do to get rid of the bad people. It shouldn’t take that long for you to realize how badly you protect this clan and your family.”

Her eyes were cold and black, the pleads from the man didn’t stop.

“You can breath, you can blink, you can cry….Eywa, you already are. You’re going to be stuck in that broken shell of a body forever.”

Then she cut the man’s vision clear bashing his head in with the thick tree branch.

“Y/n…Y/n s-stop…please. You killed those soldiers, and did more than killing to Quaritch Y/n, you didn’t even blink.”

“You know why I did it? I did it because I wanted to.”

“Don’t be stupid Y/n please. You can fool yourself and everyone else! But you can’t fool me! What happened to you? Because this isn’t you..”

“How would you know about me.”

The built up tension…over years of being locked away and pushed from her family…she aimed the gun to her siblings and mother who came in…the loudness and facial expression towards Y/n felt so unfamiliar…uncomfortable. They never looked at her..and now? Now they see her.

Neytiri’s eyes and hears rang…all she could hear were her mothers warning on Y/n’s behavior…now, she regretted ignoring her persistence on fixing Y/n. Mo’at said she was a monster but now…Neytiri was convinced, Y/n was the devil.

The Erie silence scared her…something she found so peaceful was now so scary. Y/n took her gun and ran through the woods hoping to just breathe for a moment.

It had been hours and everyone went off looking for her…Mo’at especially. Her poor grandchild couldn’t stand being with anyone because that’s how Jake made her, he made her used to being by herself. He gave her all the wrong traits…angry, aggressive, defensive, closed off and…sad.

*Flashback*

Jake made Y/n so stressed that the simplest thing set her off.

Y/n walked away angrily from training, having a rough day of archery…Neteyam could hear his younger sibling exhaling heavily.

“What happened?”

“All my shots were bad, all of them. Every single one.”

Neteyam turned around to the spots Y/n was supposed to aim, masking a surprised face towards the slightly off target aims, no it wasn’t in the exact center but it was almost there, still a good shot.

…it was always all too wrong for Y/n.

*

The frustrating memory came to an end when Y/n heard someone approaching.

“…Y/n! Please come back home! This is- it’s just not ok. The decisions your making right now aren’t wise, especially at this hour-“

“You think I’m some idiot! Well I didn’t ask to be made! I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over! To turn into some…some monster!”

“Y/n…“

“No! No don’t say I’m wrong! You don’t get to say that! I spent hours on end training just so I could be perfect for him! For my own father..but I wasn’t! I proved myself over and over and over and over and over and over-“

“..ok Y/n I get it now-“

“No you don’t!”

“…I know you act like you’re the meanest and strongest but you’re actually the most scared of all…I know that you push anyone’s who’s willing to put up with you, cause just a little bit of love reminds you of how big and empty that hole inside you actually is.”

“Stop!”

“I know you feel like no one cares about you!…I know who you are Y/n!…because you were me. My parents always pushed on me to be the greatest tsahik..gave me much more harder time than a child can bare..so please Y/n realize that you’re ok now. I’m here”

For a moment..silence stood between the two…and the girl who Mo’at hoped would get better..broke down, into her grandmother’s arms.

“You were born into a family that doesn’t always appreciate you, but one day things are going to be very different..”

Mo’at placed a sleeping remedy on Y/n’s face hoping to buy her grandchild a good rest and time before the storm. Y/n softly fell asleep into her grandmothers arms. The most emotional yet beautiful sight Moat had ever seen…the child who was always overseen was now peacefully shedding tears while sleeping…it hurt her looking at the way Y/n was fully on guard still. Not once did her hand lose grip on her gun, and her body remained tense.

!💓!

There will be one more part to this! I’m so sorry for the major delay, i haven’t had any time to write and i hope this is good! Sorry for it being short but I’d also love if you guys send in requests for Y/n’s ending in this 💓

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll l @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul l @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon @hotdsstuff @heart-an0n @he110hon @go-river-flows

[sissylittlefeather]

I done did it again, y'all.

Suspicious Minds: Part 1

A/N: I watched the movie Argylle and was hit with some insane inspiration and I just couldn't control it. So, please enjoy the first part of this modern AU spy!Elvis x reader fic. I really wanted this to be a one-shot, but I hit 5k words at what I think is the halfway point and had to split it. I'm really excited to write part 2 for this one...

@ccab You know I love you so much. Thank you for screaming about this with me.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, this is intense, gun violence, espionage, cussing, an erection, masturbation (female), kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I hope that's everything

Word count: ~5.5k

You adjust your glasses and look back at the computer screen. Your mom is always on you about not staring at a screen in the dark. She's convinced you'll ruin your eyesight, but it's not going to get any better, so why worry? Instead, you focus in again and go back to the hacking you've been working on for the past twelve hours. When you get in this mode, you don't sleep. For you it's like a game. You have a mission and you won't stop until you manage to finish it. You mainly do contract work for government agencies, cracking encryptions and writing code to secure against other hackers. But this was a private contract for a company you didn't recognize. Still, the money was unbelievable, so you took the job just as seriously, put on your EDM music, and got to work.

Now, 12 hours later, you throw your hands in the air in celebration. You finally got to what you were trying to get to. Your assignment is to download what you found onto a flash drive and deliver it to a lock box. But instead, you decide to take a peek at what you've uncovered.

It's maps. But they're maps with what look like targets and information that you're pretty sure you shouldn't see. This appears to be information that is vital to national security. You've done this kind of work before, but never for a private contract. You start to wonder if you should give it to the people who have asked for it. The flash drive blinks red to indicate that all of the information is saved. You eject it and hold it in your hand. Then, you set it on your desk and head to bed. It's 3am and the sunrise will be here before you know it.

******

You wake up with a hand on your mouth and scream into his palm.

"Sh sh sh... I'm the good guy. You're okay, honey, hush." You stop screaming mostly out of shock and he takes his hand off of you slowly.

"Who the fuck-" He puts his hand back over your mouth. Your eyes meet his blue ones and he's shockingly reassuring.

"My name is Elvis. I'm here to protect you. So please stop making noise." His southern drawl is comforting, for some reason. He moves his hand off of your mouth again. You whisper.

"Protect me from what? Or whom, I guess?"

"Where is the flash drive?"

"What?" Just then you hear your front door bust open.

"Goddamnit." He stands up away from your bed and you sit up frantically. "Get dressed, but don't make any noise."

He walks into the living room and you slide out of bed to the floor and crawl over to your closet. You grab some jeans and a bra and get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can, purposely ignoring the sounds of the struggle coming from the living room. But when you hear what sounds like a silenced gunshot, you gasp and run to the doorway. Elvis turns to you, having just shot a man who lays on your carpet bleeding.

"Go back in your room!" The other guy grabs him and punches him in the face, causing him to drop the gun. They trade hits back and forth and you watch. At one point, Elvis kicks the gun and it slides over and hits your feet. The other guy gets him in a headlock and he hollers to you.

"Throw me the gun!"

"The what?" You're so in shock that you can't understand the words he's saying.

"The gun! At your feet!" You look down and see it there, but your brain has a hard time making sense of what's happening. "Just pick it up and throw it to me!"

You pick up the gun and hold it in your hand. You've never held a gun before. It's heavier than you expected.

"Honey, throw it!" You look up at Elvis and he's struggling with the guy wrapped around his neck. You toss it gently and it lands about a foot away from him. He shakes his head at you and then grunts, throwing the guy over him onto the floor. You gasp as he grabs the gun and shoots the guy in the head. As the blood spreads over your floor, you inhale sharply and start to pass out. Elvis catches you and shakes you.

"Not yet, baby. Where is the flash drive?"

"The what?"

"The flash drive! With the information you downloaded from earlier!"

"Oh! It's on my desk." You walk to it and grab it, holding it up for him to see. He snatches it away from you.

"We need to hide this somewhere they'll never expect. Go get your dildo."

"My what?!"

"Your dildo, I'm going to-"

"I do not have one of those."

"Yes, you do. It's pink."

"How do you-"

"Not important! Go get it!" You purse your lips and run to your nightstand.

"It's a vibrator, not a dildo."

"Okay, whatever. Lemme have it." You hand it to him and he opens the end, dumping the batteries on the ground. He slides the flash drive into it and then closes it again.

"Wait... will I get it back?" He walks to you and put his hand on your cheek.

"Honey, stick with me long enough and you won't need it anymore." You blush. He's unimaginably attractive, but you try to ignore what he just said. "Pack a bag. We need to go."

You grab a duffel bag and throw some clothes and toiletries in it as fast as possible. Before you zip it up, he tosses the vibrator in the top and lets you close it.

"Wait. Why should I trust you?" He stops and turns back to face you, running his hand through his black hair in exasperation.

"Honey, I just killed two guys to protect you. You really need to ask that?" You shrug your shoulders and look up at him.

"I don't know you." He grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

"My name is Elvis Presley. I'm an agent for the good guys. I'm here to take care of you and make sure no harm comes to you or that flash drive of information you collected. I promise you can trust me. Now, we need to go. Are you coming?"

You look into his face for half a second and then nod. You're not sure where this is going or even how you got here, but you have no choice other than to trust this man.

You run down the stairs of your apartment building with him close behind you. He puts his hand on the small of your back and practically pushes you toward his car. When you get to it, your mouth drops open. It's a 1970 Stutz Blackhawk.

"Isn't this a little conspicuous?" You ask as you slide into the passenger seat. He gets in and closes the door, starting it up.

"It's too conspicuous. No one would ever think it's mine. What kind of spy drives a car like this?"

"Are you James Bond?" He laughs as he pulls out onto the street.

"No. Bond is British." You think it's interesting that that's what he chooses to prove his difference. Like everything else about them is the same. You look out the window as buildings flash by. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon and it hits you that you've only had a couple of hours of sleep.

"Where are we going?" You ask sleepily, yawning.

"Somewhere safe. But we won't be there for a while. You can go to sleep." You shake your head and try to stay alert.

"No. I'm okay." But you're not. Not at all.

"Honey, this is going to be a long road. You should rest while you can. I won't let anything happen to you." He reaches out and pats your knee softly. You look down at his hand. It's an unexpectedly kind gesture. The exhaustion sets in and you decide to trust that you're safe with him, for now at least. You lean your head against the window and close your eyes, sleep setting in before you have time to think of anything else.

******

You wake up and stretch. That was the strangest dream. It feels like you're on a couch though. You don't remember it, but you must've fallen asleep in the living room after finishing your work.

"You're awake."

You sit up suddenly. It wasn't a dream. He's real. You look around the room and try to figure out where you are, but your surroundings are completely unfamiliar.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. Are you hungry?" The smell of bacon makes your stomach growl.

"Yes."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I made some peanut butter and banana sandwiches, if you want one." You frown.

"Why do I smell bacon?" A wide smile spreads across his face and a boyish charm shines through that you didn't expect from a hot shot agent.

"C'mere." You walk to the table and he sets a plate in front of you. On it is a sandwich with peanut butter, bananas, and bacon. You wrinkle your nose. "Just try it before you make that face."

You cautiously take a bite. It's better than you expected. Much better. You look up at him surprised and he holds his hands out.

"See! It's good!"

"It really is." He sits down next to you and you both eat your sandwiches. After a few more bites, a thought comes to you. "How did I get in here?"

"I carried you." He says it matter-of-factly like it's something he does all the time.

"Oh. What time is it?" You look around the room for a clock and realize for the first time that you don't have your phone. You must've left it in your apartment.

"It's a little after 2pm. You slept for a while."

The conversation continues and you make small talk. Once you finish eating, you work together to clean up the kitchen and then settle on the couch. It's very small, so you have to sit pretty close together. He turns on the TV and you spend the bulk of the afternoon there. For dinner, he orders a pizza and you sit together and eat awkwardly again. The evening passes in front of the TV and before you know it, it's time for bed. He stands up and walks from room to room.

"I'll be damned." He shakes his head frustratedly.

"What?"

"There's only one goddamn bed in this house. I'll have to sleep on the couch." You both look over at the tiny couch. It's essentially a love seat, so there's no way he will fit on there comfortably.

"Or I could?"

"No, you need to be in the bed behind a door, in case someone comes in during the night." You swallow deeply. That prospect is terrifying.

"O-okay, then. Goodnight..." He nods and you take your bag into the room with the bed. Once you have your pajamas on, you settle into the bed and the reality of your situation hits you. It's like the adrenaline from the day wears off and it becomes clear to you just how scary things are right now. The tears gather in your eyes and then start to slide down your face. Will your life ever go back to normal? What happens if these guys catch up to you? Before you know it, you're crying pretty hard, holding yourself and trying to breathe.

Elvis sits on the couch in the living room and tries not to hear you crying. He's been assigned to protect plenty of women, but there's something about you that makes him a little crazy. He shouldn't even think about what he's considering right now. Still, he considers it as the sounds of you crying come from the bedroom. It's torture for him to know how scared and alone you must be in there. He lays back on the little couch and tries to get comfortable.

"Goddamnit."

You're in the bed with tears on your cheeks when you hear the door open. You sit up quickly and see Elvis in the doorway.

"You alright?"

"No. Why the fuck would I be alright?! My life is literally in shambles. And I'm stuck here with..."

"With me?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean... I'm scared. And I have no one." He sits down next to you on the bed. He almost whispers.

"You have me." You look up at him and he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb. You're not sure why he's being so sweet to you, but it's exactly what you need right now.

"Will you... will you stay with me?" He clears his throat and pulls his hand back.

"Oh... you know..."

"Never mind. It's okay." You look down at your hands in your lap and try to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Yes. I'll stay in here with you. It's probably better that I stay close to protect you anyway. And there won't be any sleeping on that couch. The bed is the better option." You look up at him and nod.

Yes, he's sleeping with you because the couch is too small. Not because he can't stop wondering what it would feel like to wrap his arms around you. You lay down and he lays down next to you without touching you. You reach over and turn the lamp off.

"Well, goodnight." He looks over at you in the dark.

"Goodnight, Elvis."

You both lay there silently trying to fall asleep. It takes a while, but eventually you drift off.

******

In the morning, you wake up with your back pressed against him and his arm around you. You don't think anything of it really until you feel him. He has a massive erection and it's currently pushing up against you. You start to giggle uncontrollably and your movement wakes him up.

"What's going on? Why are you laughing?"

"Y-you..." You get out in between giggles. "I can feel you..."

"Fucking hell." He rolls away from you quickly, but it's even more obvious when he's on his back. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry."

He sits up on the edge of the bed facing away from you.

"I'm sorry. I just... it's morning... God..." You're laughing so hard that you can hardly breathe. He stands up and walks quickly to the door, muttering as he goes. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He leaves you in the room laughing and hoping that he doesn't sleep on the couch.

The day passes slowly and awkwardly with the two of you eating sandwiches and watching TV again. Around noon, you decide to take a shower.

"I'm not sure that's smart."

"Why not?"

"I can't protect you if I can't see you." You roll your eyes.

"I've been fine this whole time. I think I'll be okay for a twenty minute shower." He thinks for a minute.

"Leave the door cracked."

"What? No!" He sighs, exasperated.

"I won't look. I'll just be able to hear you and get in fast if anything happens. Otherwise, no shower."

"Okay, fine."

You leave the door cracked and get into the shower, looking in the mirror to make sure he isn't watching. He's nowhere to be found, so you relax and let the hot water wash over you. It feels so good running down your skin, cutting hot pathways on your shoulders and thighs. Suddenly, a thought wriggles its way into your brain and won't go away. You imagine him in the shower with you, pressed up against your back. What you felt this morning is hard to ignore and you wonder what he looks like without his clothes on. You think about his hands running over your body and before you know it, it's not the shower making you wet. You peek in the mirror again to make sure Elvis is still not looking. When you're satisfied he's not there, your hand slides down the front of your abdomen until your fingers find your clit. You begin to make circles and think about his mouth. He has a beautiful mouth and the thought of it pressed to you as his tongue makes circles on you just about drives you wild. You slide a finger into yourself and pump it in and out as you continue to rub over and around your sensitive bud. Then, you imagine him on top of you, slamming his cock into you and without thinking, you moan.

"Elvis..." You say it quietly, but it's loud enough for him to hear it with the door cracked. He stands just outside and looks in the mirror to make sure you're okay. He can see the outline of your body through the foggy glass shower door. That's when he realizes what you're doing and swallows hard. When you cum, hard, on your own hand and say his name again, he almost loses it.

He cannot be having these thoughts about you. Sure, he's had sex with girls on missions before, it's practically his trademark, but something about this feels different. He doesn't want to fuck you. He wants to make love to you. And that thought terrifies him. He peels himself away from the door and goes to sit back on the couch. His erection is back, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he tries to think of anything else to make it go away. He's dying to go into the other bathroom and do exactly what you just did, but he can't leave you alone. Instead, he tucks himself up under his belt quickly when he hears the water turn off.

"FUCK." He hits the couch next to him and then sits with his head in his hands. This cannot be happening.

"Are you okay?" He looks up at you quickly, standing there with your hair wet.

"Mhmmm. Yep, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You think to yourself that he looks like he's about to cry.

"Well I am. Let's just... watch TV, okay?"

"Okay..." You sit down on the couch next to him and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV. What you don't know is that Elvis is in misery being so close to you without touching you. And what he doesn't know is that you want him to touch you more than anything in the world.

******

Finally, evening comes and you start to get hungry.

"What's for dinner?"

"Well. I'm kind of a one-trick pony in the kitchen. I don't think you want another sandwich." He seems to have relaxed after whatever happened earlier.

"I can cook."

"Or we can just go get something."

"No, I'd like to cook for you. As a thank you for protecting me." He tries not to give himself away by how he looks at you, but the tension between you is palpable. "Can we go to the store? Is that allowed?"

"Yes, that should be fine. If they knew where we were we'd know it by now."

You get back into the Blackhawk and make your way to the grocery store. You're in a small town away from where you live, so there's only one store. Elvis stays close to you as you wander the aisles for what you need to make dinner. You also grab some essentials. He's not sure how long you'll have to be at the house, so you get food to keep you sustained for at least a few days. Once you've gotten everything you need and checked out, you make your way back to the house and get to work in the kitchen.

He watches as you move around gracefully and longs to put his arms around you. You notice him staring and decide he needs a task.

"Get over here and chop something."

"Yes ma'am." He salutes you jokingly and you set him up with some peppers.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother. She was an amazing cook. I spent summers with her when I was a kid, so she was able to teach me."

"That's nice."

"What was your family like? Or can't you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't." You nod. It makes sense that he can't divulge any personal secrets. But he just can't seem to tell you no. "Fuck it. I was very close to my mother growing up. There were a lot of times when it was just me, her, and the shirts on our backs. My father worked a lot. And then she died when I was 23. I had just joined the army."

He gets very quiet and looks down at the vegetables he's chopping intentionally. You walk over and put your hand on his arm gently. The contact makes his heart jump.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He looks down into your face, his eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth momentarily. It takes everything in him not to lean down and kiss you.

"Thank you. Anyway I joined the military and was recruited by... who I work for now... and the rest is history."

Finally, the food is ready and you sit down to eat together again. He's impressed by your culinary skills and spends the next few minutes gushing about how good dinner is. The conversation continues and you talk about everything and nothing. Somehow, you make your way around to talking about music.

"Here's a fun question: what do you like better, singing or dancing?" He asks you as the meal comes to a conclusion.

"I'm not much of a singer, but I also don't dance, so I'm not sure how to answer that question." You respond and he laughs.

"You don't dance?"

"Well, I never really have before. Haven't had much opportunity. I was too big of a nerd to go to high school dances and in college I pretty much kept to myself."

"Then, it's not that you don't dance, you just haven't yet. We need to fix that." You're surprised by his enthusiasm, but he's eager for an excuse to touch you. He turns on the radio and finds a station with a good song.

"Really, it's okay. I don't really want to dance."

"C'mon, it's not hard." He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. You both breathe deeply and he takes your hand in his. He moves you around the room effortlessly and your embarrassment melts away. The feeling of his arm around you is enough to distract you from anything. He dips you and spins you and before you know it you're both laughing. Eventually the song ends and he holds you close to him and looks down into your face. The next song is a slow one, so he begins to sway gently.

"See, dancing's not so bad."

"No, it's fun with you." You look up at him and his eyes flick down to your lips. He wants to kiss you. You can tell. And you want to let him.

He slowly leans forward, hovering above your mouth with your noses touching. It seems like he's trying to decide something. Eventually, he moves the slightest bit forward and presses his soft lips to yours. The kiss is a sweet one, and he kisses you again like this several times. The fourth time he kisses you, though, he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. By this point you've stopped dancing and both of your arms are around his neck, with both of his around your waist. The heat between you picks up as your mouths move together in a rhythm.

Suddenly, he stops and pulls away from you. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

"Y/n, I can't. I can't do this."

"Oh... okay..."

"I'm sorry. You should go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Okay. I'm sorry if I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's me." You nod your head and walk away from him to the bedroom. After closing the door, you change into your sleeping t-shirt and crawl under the covers. The bed seems lonely without him.

In the living room, he paces back and forth, sitting down periodically. He's going through everything in his mind and trying to convince himself that there's nothing there for you. That he can reasonably fuck you and then move on like he always has. But these thoughts are invaded by other ones: the sound of your laugh, the softness of your smile, the grace with which you moved around the kitchen, and your voice saying his name in the shower. He's never been so frustrated by a woman. He starts to get a little angry. What is it about you anyway? Who are you to come into his life and interrupt it like this? He has a job to do. You're the one being all distracting and unprofessional. He needs to set you straight. You need to know that this is completely inappropriate.

You're almost asleep when the door opens dramatically. You sit up on the side of the bed and Elvis stomps over to you and sits next to you.

"You know why I can't do this, right?" He asks aggressively. You're not sure where this anger is coming from.

"Yeah, it's your job-"

"It is my job! My job is to protect you, not... this... whatever this is..." He gestures frantically to the space between you.

"Elvis, I'm not sure why you're yelling at me." He yells even louder.

"Because! You're making me feel things I don't want to feel!" He looks at you desperately, chest heaving. Your heart is pounding.

"I'm-"

His lips crash into yours with a feverish need. Everything he's just said goes out the window as his hands run over your body and he kisses down your neck. You whimper and he groans with the intense passion. He pulls your t-shirt up over your head and off, tossing it to the side. One hand immediately goes to your breast while his mouth explores the opposite nipple. Your hands are in his hair as he works, your head thrown back in pleasure. The sensation of his lips on your breast is exquisite and you moan as he lightly pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your fingers go to the buttons on his shirt and you fumble with them for a while before he just rips it open and lets you push it backwards off of his shoulders.

He lays you down on the bed surprisingly gently and kisses down your stomach. The only thing separating you from him is your white cotton panties. He sits up on his knees, erection stretching the fabric of his pants, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. His eyes search yours for permission and you nod slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He pulls your panties down your legs and off and then presses his lips to your ankle. Pushing your legs open, he drags his finger up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Can I make you feel good, baby?" He asks as he makes circles on you.

"God, yes, Elvis, please." You whine as he settles between your legs. He starts by pushing his tongue into you and then licking up either side of your sensitive bud. You need him to touch the right spot with his tongue so badly it almost hurts. Your legs shake with desire and he hovers about an inch away from you. You feel his breath on you and it feels like you might die with how close he is. Then, he very softly flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck! Elvis, please!"

Your back arches and your hips buck as you practically beg him. He continues to flick your clit with his tongue, though, adding a little more pressure each time. With each flick of his tongue, the blood rushes to your core and you feel your climax building. Finally, when you're about to scream and your orgasm is just seconds away, he dives in fully, licking your pussy with the entirety of his tongue.

"OH FUCK, ELVIS!" Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train, setting off fireworks all over your body as the pulsating waves of pleasure crash into you. He licks you through your release until you come back down to earth. Then, he sits up and wipes his face with his hand.

"I want- no, I need to make love to you. Please let me make love to you." You sit up and unbutton his pants, pushing them down to free his cock. He grunts as you take him in your hand and pump him, gently moving his foreskin back and forth.

"What are you waiting for?" You whisper. He moans deep in his throat and leans forward on top of you, kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Holding himself in one hand, he teases your clit with his tip and then lines up with your entrance. He begins to push into you slowly, giving your body a chance to adjust to his size. You feel every inch of his cock as he enters you and it fills you up perfectly. Once he's pushed into you fully, he slides almost all the way out and with a slow, deep roll of his hips fills you again. He continues to thrust into you, slow and deep, over and over. His rhythm is steady, his pace dramatic and soulful. You begin to moan softly each time his hips meet yours and he grunts in reply. There's something overwhelmingly sexy about how he's taking his time, filling you, pulling back, and then slowly filling you again. Sweat drips down his face, gathers on his chest, and wets his hair on his brow, matching your own. The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He reaches down to hold one of your hips, thrusting somehow even deeper than he already was. With every pump, his dick rubs against your g-spot and the slow pace has you dancing on the edge of another orgasm. Just when you think the lovemaking can't get any sweeter, he leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. Then he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. All the while, he's still sliding in and out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Goddamnit, baby. You feel so good." He kisses you again and his pace speeds up the slightest bit. Every time your hips meet, it feels like the next thrust will send you over the edge.

Without pulling out, he rolls over on his side and brings you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He goes back to thrusting, increasing his speed, but not changing the depth of his strokes. Your eyes meet and his blue ones search yours for something. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you hope he finds it.

"Y/n, I- FUCK." He's interrupted when the coil of his orgasm snaps and he cums hard inside you, closing his eyes and shuddering against you. His release pushes you over the edge and you tumble into oblivion with him, pulsing and fluttering around him. He presses his forehead to yours again as he pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out of you. Kissing your lips, he rolls over on his back and pulls you onto his chest.

"What were you going to say?"

"Hmm?"

"Right before you came. You were saying something."

"Oh, it was nothing." He thinks to himself that it absolutely was not nothing, but he was probably just caught up in the moment. It doesn't need saying now.

You nod and snuggle into him, hoping he doesn't try to go sleep on the couch. He doesn't, thankfully. He stays right there in the bed with you. He knows it's stupid and inappropriate, but he no longer cares. Maybe you'll be stuck together in the safe house for a long, long time. This is his last thought before you both drift off to sleep.

******

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the feeling of Elvis wrapped around you, both of you still naked. You're just about to revel in the closeness and daydream about what you'll do stuck in the safe house today, but Elvis sits straight up in bed.

"What-?"

"Shh, honey, hush." He says it quietly and you start to get scared. "Someone's in the house."

He jumps out of the bed and grabs his pants, pulling them on without buttoning them, and gets his gun from the nightstand. You don't even remember him putting it there.

"Get dressed, quickly and quietly." You nod and slide out of the bed, gathering your clothing and slipping it on silently. He positions you so that you can't be seen from the door and then opens it, gun in hand.

"Ah, Agent Presley. You're awake."

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

[inkedobsidian]

~ The Plea ~

prompt: #33 “Are you going to talk to me?”

requested by: @chuyasthighs0

summary: Y/N seeks out Jin-Man after hearing about the loss in his family.

pairing: Y/N x Jeong Jin-Man

warnings: blood, torture, death,scars, ptsd, Bale’s just a dick man we’ve all seen the show

word count: 871

a/n: I tried to keep what Y/N looked like brief just in case it got a bit too much but if people do want a in depth description to what I imagine I can edit it <3 Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas

Master-List - Prompts

It didn’t take long before Y/N caught word of what Bale had done. I mean she worked pretty much side by side with Honda so when she arrived back from holiday to find the shop burnt down she immediately went into panic mode. After searching in every safe house or apartment they had in the general area she finally decided to take a more direct approach.

Standing in the middle of Babylon was a questionable decision but frankly she was going to get answers. Luckily she was seen out of kindness but Yong-Han was not one to mince words. He thought he owed her the courtesy because of her blood that he kept her alive in the attack against Jeong Jin-Man. It took longer than it should’ve for her to pull herself together in front of him but luckily he did not question her. He simply let her leave with her life, a mistake he’d regret in the future.

Now she stands shrouded in darkness watching the movement inside the Jeong house. She could see at least 2 shadows move about the house; an adult and a toddler. As the toddler's shadow disappeared into a room with no windows, Y/N assumed that Ji-an was asleep now. Y/N already knew about Ji-an from Yong-Han so she had to go about this a different way. If it was going to be difficult to approach Jin-Man before it will be even harder now. But she has to and so she moves against the darkness but it wouldn’t have made a difference as Jin-Man already knew she was there.

She clocked the unlocked door, there was no way he was that stupid. However, she was stupid enough to go in despite what was probably waiting for her on the other side. As she pushed the door open slowly she put both hands up and walked in hands first to show she was unarmed, a smart choice really since as she fully entered the house she was met with a silenced pistol between the eyes. The cool barrel really took a moment to adjust too but it definitely got her on high alert.

“I’m here alone.” Was the first thing she could think to stutter out. Jin-Man scoffed behind the gun at the comment, of course she did he would’ve known otherwise. At least she was telling him the truth though.

“I didn’t know…I was away…Honda never told me…” It was almost like Y/N couldn’t fully decide on what point she was supposed to lead with. How was she supposed to convince a man not to kill her just like Bale killed his brother?

“I just… I just want to help. Whether it’s revenge or what, I want to help you.” As she spoke the barrel was still against her head but there was space between the door and her so she took the opportunity to take a step back to finally look at him instead of the gun. Jin-Man just continued to stare through her, it was a lifeless stare in his eyes, he’d never looked at her like that before.

“Are you going to talk to me?” She pleads. He keeps the gun level but takes a step back himself creating a bit more space between them. She couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked, he was thinner as well like he hadn’t eaten properly. The grief was killing him literally.

“You expect me,” The sound of his voice shocked her, he spoke with so much anger and venom, “to believe YOU want to help me?” The emphasis on you stung and he noticed. However, the sting quickly turned sour when faced with reality. Y/N finally stopped looking at Jin-Man with nothing, almost like the soul in the body had gone.

“Do you really think?” As Y/N spoke she took off the jacket covering her body, as she did all of the worry that was once written over Y/N’s face was now written over Jin-Man’s. It took him a few moments to fully register what she was telling him, “That all of this hasn’t been going on his entire life?”

It was hard for Y/N to fully hold eye contact with Jin-Man, She watched as his gaze towards her softened but they still stood there mere steps across the room from each other as Jin-Man still hadn’t dropped the gun. It was like everything was moving too slowly that by the time Jin-Man had finally dropped the gun Y/N’s skin was covered in goosebumps from the breeze. He dropped it in one quick movement that cut them out of the moment they were in and Y/N swiftly picked up her jacket and put it back on, she got her point across.

“Did you mean it?” Jin-Man thought maybe he was stupid for trusting her. How much can blood really be different? Something about her though, he didn’t pity her he was intrigued by the look in her eyes.

“Mean what?” She was trying to hide the surprise in her voice that she had gotten his far without being shot. She was willing to go along with whatever she asked at this point, there was something about the look in his eyes.

“About revenge?”

[deltaharrington]

NOT CRAZY PT 1.

PAIRING: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship, mental health, possessiveness.

SUMMARY: You follow Rafe and Barry to Kiara and JJ, allowing you to witness just how fucked up your boyfriend is.

PART 2

“Why do you have to go? I thought we were spending time together today” You asked your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You were currently cuddled up to the blonde kook on the patio of Tannyhill. You two were supposed to spend the day shopping, but his plans had changed with one phone call.

“I’m sorry, babe” Rafe said and sighed “I’ll be back later, I promise” He said and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

He was doing this so you wouldn’t follow him.

He knew you better than you knew yourself and he couldn’t risk losing you. He had put on a caring boyfriend facade and he didn’t want to break that.

Rafe had been obsessed with you ever since he first saw you at a bonfire. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

He didn’t know how to approach you, and it took a while for him to interact. Once he did, you fell for him almost instantly.

He knew what you liked in a guy.

Soon, he became your boyfriend and you made him happy. He had his moments, but he tried to remain sane around you.

He didn’t want to scare you off.

Your lips moved against Rafe’s and he almost went further, but he remembered what he had to do.

He needed to find JJ and Kiara.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He asked and you nodded your head.

You followed him out and waved as he rode away on his bike.

You hopped in your car and had a bad feeling, with Rafe leaving so quick.

You were going to follow him.

Upon following Rafe, you arrived at a boat storage area. You were so confused. Your eyebrows furrowed when you saw Kiara and JJ.

Rafe hated the Pogues, right?

Rafe hates the Pogues.

Then you spotted Barry. You knew Rafe used to have a drug problem. Well that’s what he told you.

You knew this was bad.

You parked your car a ways away from the storage facility. You then got out and went in the side door, watching from behind a shelf.

“Hey there” You heard Rafe’s voice, directed towards JJ and Kie. Pope was there too. You hadn’t seen him before.

“JJ” Rafe spoke “How you guys doing?” He mocked as Barry came out from behind the 4-wheeler.

Barry then pulled a gun on JJ. You gasped and the only person who heard was JJ.

He looked at you with a mixture of worry and confusion. You shouldn’t have been there?

JJ had been your server nearly every time you went to the Country Club and you had grown a soft spot for the blonde Pogue.

He had grown one for you too, and he hated Kooks. Especially Rafe. He didn’t take the news of you two dating very well.

JJ tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. He tried to tell you that Rafe had killed Peterkin. Rafe’s show he put on was too convincing.

Anyways, the blonde looked back to Barry.

“Don’t think I forgot about you and me on the side of the road” Barry taunted and JJ eyed the barrel of the gun. “I’m here to get my fucking money!” He screamed and you jumped.

Kie tried to run towards JJ but Rafe grabbed onto her. She slapped him and began berating him about murdering Peterkin. That’s when you came out.

“Rafe? What are you doing!” You called out just as a scuffle started. Rafe began to choke Kie and at the sound of your voice he froze.

Rafe looked horrified, his heart raced in his chest.

“Baby, this isn’t what this looks like” He tried to say but Pope hit him on his back twice, knocking him over.

That’s when you realized Rafe really had killed Peterkin. He was angry that the Pogues kept blaming him, so he brought Barry to get revenge.

Barry had finally spotted you as he was beating JJ to the ground. He grabbed you and held the gun to your head, pulling you away from JJ.

“JJ!” You called out, nearly begging him to help. Your eyes welled with tears as the barrel was pressed firmly against your head.

“Barry, I’ll get you your money, just let her go” JJ said “She’s Rafe’s girl” He said and cringed at the sound of that.

Barry hesitated and that’s when JJ charged at him, hustling the gun away from him and kicking it towards Kie.

He was on his feet in an instant, kicking Barry in the stomach while blocking you from anything he might try.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing here?” He asked when he got the chance.

You weren’t paying attention, you were focused on Pope beating the fuck out of your boyfriend.

“Pope! Stop!” You called but he didn’t listen, beginning to choke your bloodied boyfriend.

JJ jumped in and pulled Pope away, leaving Rafe on the ground and you standing in shock.

“Rafe” You said and rushed to him. Before you could offer him aid, he grabbed your wrists, sitting up.

“Why the fuck, are you here?!” He yelled, anger in his eyes. You had never seen this side of him.

“Why am I here? Rafe, why are you-“ You were cut off.

“Shut up!” He yelled and shoved you backwards. JJ saw this and he rushed to your side.

“Don’t you ever touch her like that again? You hear me?” JJ said and got you up, dragging you with him the the other Pogues.

Pope and Kie didn’t understand why JJ was helping you, but they would soon find out.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[krashoutluv]

comic!jason todd x m!indie rock singer/guitarist reader

cold weather - glass beach

1:08 ──⚬──── 2:18

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ warnings ; sfw (none)

…

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ contents ; hc’s totally not based off glass beach lyrics haha thats so cheesy whaat lololo…

I love the way you make me feel when I’m staring at my screen.

At 4AM, trying not to fall asleep

And you hit me up just to see if I’m OK

JASON TODD CODED SOOO BAAADD

literally how the crushes form for both sides

jason has like an inner psyche where he just fuckin knows when youre awake

if you ask him he’ll probably say something stupid like ‘i can hear your (guitar)/(voice)’ and he’s nowhere around you

and his heart throbs whenever you two stay texting for waayy tooooo loonggg, starts cheesing and shit

NEERRRDD

average jason todd text

When I keep you up sending Mamegoma Lines

You know it's shit like that that makes me wanna be alive

JASON TODD CODED LINE. CANON CANON.

he responds through his helmet while he’s kicking ass

it gets so common to a point where he ends up having a full blown convo w/ you using those stupid fuckin stickers

bug him late at night !!

he’ll tell you to gts but he’d be lying if he says it doesn’t make his heart melt when u send him these little fucks.

So I'll call in sick again just to spend the day with you

100% he’ll call a day off to hang with you

whether its showing up to your show then hitting a bar, 100%,

i need jason todd in a relationship where he just drops everything for his s/o,

fuck the mission!! he wants to listen to those fucking vocals for an hour or you shredding ur guitar!!

he’s fucking around in an arcade with you till 11pm

hes a little ass at mario kart, better with motorcycle games,

BRING HIM TO ANY SHOOTER ONES WHERE U HOLD THE GUN AND UR GETTING WAAAASHHHEDD.

he has the most fun with the halo ones or the walking dead ones

weirdly good at the multiplayer pacman games

AMAZING AT GALAXIA ILL DIE ON THIS HILLL

Wanna say I think it's so gay that we really both feel the same way

That I feel like we're more than just friends

It took too long to realize

I didn't miss the cold weather, I just missed you

Jason was never homophobic and or totally against the idea of him being gay

i dont think he was ever in a gay relationship b4 you two

bc most of the vigilante guys he met were trying to fight him or absolute dick heads,

n’ most of the male figures in his life weren’t the absolute best.

so there wasn’t tooo much room for crushing on a guy too easily

if you’d ask him abt his sexuality its smthn like ‘i think im straight but i dunno what if im not.’

heres how i think it starts ;)

you’re preforming at a bar, n’ ofc jason todd can admit when a guys cute/attractive, any guy could do that

and maybe its ur guitar or your vocals but he cant stop watching (he convinces himself its your talent which is reasonably not gay)

maybe one coincidence leads to another and you two chat and go out at times, he pulls up to your shows more.

and the whole time he thinks he’s just acknowledging that your a very attractive person,

notthin crazy to admit ya homie has mad kisssble lips after starin at them for a sec too long. lol. haha. hm.

and i think the thought really hits him when he’s out of gotham for a mission. and he’s craving your presence

he texts you but you dont respond, fuck right you have a show and the timezone difference—

n he gets fuckin, ANTSY and SAD.

he tries to smoke a cig to fuck off

but he cant stop thinking about that one night where he brings you to his favorite rooftop view of the city,

how those sly stupid jokes slip from your mouth like honey,

the way you glance at him and the moonlight on your skin

how he got that random need to just lean into your lips

and— (GAY REALIZATION PANICC) <- link

'Cause I don't need the cold weather like I need you

And I don't need the sweater weather I just need you

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Fuck! Hahahaha

hes unlabeled your honor.

[akria23]

Something I wanted to talk about is the gun scene. I saw someone say there was 2 pairings that had someone say they can’t live without the other and I’d actually say you have to count this scene as another. Because essentially the bit that’s important is the what’s being said underneath the conversation - what’s being said without words.

As Nont rejects Proms request for him to stay telling him that he can’t continue to live that way he’s not Nant - he moves the gun higher along Prom temple. This is because the rejection isn’t just being vocalized, he’s also showing Prom that he cares little for him & he will leave him once this is over.

This is where dialogue drops because Proms response is to move Nont’s hand with the gun from his head to his heart. He grips it, leans in, presses hard. This is a statement - this was him saying he doesn’t want to live without Nont. This was a rejection of them separating. Prom doesn’t get to speak tho because it’s against the rules, it’s goes against their agreement. And also Prom and Nont’s version of communication has always been more unhinged than the rest of the pairs because they’re unhinged and because Nont’s so resistant. But even in this moment, despite his earlier words, Nont is once again affected by Prom.

He backs down from the challenge by bending his wrist lowering the gun and eventually his arm from Prom’s grip. He looks away uncomfortably I think in part because he’s not as comfortable with the thought of Prom’s demise as he pretends and because he doesn’t want Prom to have that power over him, doesn’t want to have any sort of emotional bond to him. Nant hangs between them like a ghost…

When Nont told him not to cross the line, that he wasn’t Nant, Prom didn’t push or battle it - he became his partner in crime.

When Nont told him that he didn’t need aftercare because he wasn’t Nant, Prom continued to give him aftercare and moved the conversation to their plan.

Even after this conversation where Nont tries to convince him that he will leave him behind after the mission is complete (because he can’t do this life, he’s not Nant) - Prom sends him a text that basically says after murder, come home to me and if you’ve succeeded I’ll award you and if you’ve failed I’ll console you.

No matter what you think Proms motives are he obviously believes in playing the long game. Whenever Nont tried to erect a wall between them Prom glides over it and continues their relationship. Nont is in denial.

He wants to believe he’s the predator in the relationship, that he’s using Prom and will be able to discard him the second he doesn’t need him anymore but he hasn’t been able to do that yet even on the small scale.

Something I will say is I don’t think Prom is actually as cool an collected as he appears when it comes to moments like these with Nont. I say that because more than once now we’ve been shown them ‘aggressively smoke’ during moments where they’re repressing a lot of their conversation / emotions when they’re together. And the amount of times Prom took a pull of his cigarette during the first but of the conversation to Nont taking a drag after sitting with obvious uncomfortable feelings (after he pulled the gun down from Prom’s chest).

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

So Many Questions Part 2

Prompt: You’re pulled in for questioning by NCIS and are quickly surprised to see your ex-boyfriend as your interrogator.

Notes: Some characters are post Season 11

Part 1

————

The sounds of music played loudly throughout your home as you moved from one room to the next, deep clean mode engaged. It was the only thing that you could focus on enough to get Jethro out of your head. He hadn’t called or texted you since the interrogation, not that you wanted him to, it would only make the ache in your heart worse.

You wish the end of your relationship had ended differently. You wished Jethro didn’t push you away so much when his work got the best of him. You wished you made a little more of an effort to be patient and understanding of his feelings and how he processes things. And most of all, you wished you hadn’t ended it in a huge fight.

You looked down at the dishes you were doing, surprised they hadn’t broken in half from your very aggressive scrubbing and sighed. Your thoughts were interrupted by a strong knock at the door and your heart skipped a beat. Was it Jethro?

Drying your hands quickly, you went over to the front door and opened it, face falling when you only saw your assistant Cheryll. She looked extremely distraught, worrying you.

“What’s up Cheryll? Everything alright?”

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” You opened the door wider so she could come in and shut it behind her. She walked into the living room, looking around, almost as if to look for someone.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I just gotta do something and I really don’t want to.”

“What do you m-

Your question was cut short when she pulled out a gun and pointed it at you. Your hands immediately raised in surrender.

“Cheryll. What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t want to do this Y/N! But he told me that you were a loose end and that if I didn’t kill you, I wouldn’t get my share of the money. I can’t afford to lose out on that.” She had tears in her eyes and both hands were shaking as they gripped the gun.

“Cheryll, listen. You don’t have to do this. I don’t know anything, I swear.”

“Stop! It doesn’t matter any more! I have to do this!”

You knew there was no convincing her so now you had to think differently. She’s clearly never fired a gun which made you wonder how fast would she be able to pull the trigger if you charged her? It was your only option but the small thought of the plan not working out made you hesitate.

“NCIS! Open up!”

The sudden outburst caused Cheryll to look away and gave you the perfect window to charge for the gun. You grabbed it and tried pulling it out of her grasp but she had a death grip on it. A shot rang out and you realized she had her finger on the trigger as a searing burning pain shot up your arm.

You both twisted and turned, trying to get control of the weapon as you heard your front door bust open.

“Drop the gun!”

You weren’t about to let go and give Cheryll the opportunity to shoot you just because Jethro and his team showed up so you pushed all your weight into her and used your leg to hook under and trip her. The both of you fell to the floor but Cheryll took most of the impact, causing her to let go of the gun, giving you the chance to take it and point it at her.

She cowered against the wall, hands up, but you were pissed. How could she even fathom killing an innocent person just for some money?

“Y/N. Give me the gun.” You heard Jethro’s voice but it was muffled over the sound of your heart beating in your ears. It wasn’t until you saw him come up next to you and put his hand on your arm, that you listened.

He took the gun from you as the rest of his team grabbed Cheryll and put her in cuffs. Your left shoulder was burning and throbbing like all hell and you looked down to see your shirt covered in blood.

“It looks like just a graze wound. Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital,” Jethro offered softly, guiding you towards the front door. You were silent, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

On the road to the hospital, Jethro explained to you that Ian Chandler was the murderer they were looking for and he had Petty Officer Dravel killed just as she was about to blow the whistle on him. He also told you that he had paid Cheryll to snoop through your emails to see what evidence Dravel had and figured that you knew everything as well so you were the next target.

“It’s not safe to go back to your house,” Jethro advised as the doctor finished stitching you up.

“Well what am I suppose to do? Live out of a hotel room until you guys find the bastard? Who knows how long that will take, and I don’t have the money for that.”

“You can stay with me.”

You looked at him in disbelief but he stared right back at you with that same stoic expression he always wore.

“No. Not happening. I’m staying at my own house and you’re not gonna stop me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” You were confused that he gave up the argument so quickly. The Jethro you knew would’ve fought tooth and nail to get what he wanted.

“If you want to stay at your place then fine.”

You were shocked. This isn’t Jethro. This was an imposter. He didn’t say another word on it as you were discharged and he drove you back to your house. He followed you out of the car, grabbing a backpack on the way and escorted you to your front door that had a crime scene seal on it.

Inside, everything was the same except for some blood stains on the floor and a nice bullet hole in your dining room wall. You turned to Jethro to bid goodbye but he was already in your living room, putting his backpack on the couch and taking a seat.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Well since you refuse to listen to me and come to my house, I’ll just have to stay here and make sure you’re safe.”

Now you understood. That’s why he didn’t put up a fight. He had a plan the whole time. And you let him right in! Damn him.

“Well you can take the couch. I turned the guest bedroom into my office a while back.”

“Fine by me. Nothing I haven’t done before,” he replied with a small smirk.

You weren’t sure if he was referring to himself always sleeping on his couch at home or taking a jab at the memories of him always sleeping on your couch whenever you two got into fights. Whichever it was, you ignored it and went into the kitchen to grab supplies for your bloody floor.

You never realized how hard dried blood was to get up off the floor until you sat there scrubbing tediously with one good arm. Jethro was on the phone with his team as they all spitballed ideas of where Ian Chandler could be hiding.

“Well call me when you have something,” he ordered gruffly before hanging up.

The ball in the out of your stomach was getting worse as you racked your brain, trying to come up with a way to talk with him about the two of you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for him. And you doubted he still had any for you by the way he acted. In any case, if you were going to talk with him about anything, you needed a drink first.

Deciding that your floor was as clean as it was gonna get, you washed your hands and began making yourself a drink. As you poured your liquid courage, you could see your hand shaking. All of a sudden, a sudden wave of anxiety shot through your body, almost taking the air out of your lungs. Your vision became blurry as you realized you were crying.

“Y/N? You alright?” Jethro’s voice asked from the other room.

“Yeah. Just getting a drink,” you croaked out.

Putting the bottle down before you dropped it, you closed your eyes and tried getting ahold of yourself. So much had happened in just one day and you could only keep up a brave face for so long. You literally almost died today. For no reason.

You took a couple of breaths, not really wanting to breakdown in front of your ex-boyfriend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you, making you jump.

You turned your head and saw Jethro standing there. Giving up, you walked over and was immediately pulled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you as sobs racked your body.

Scenes from earlier played in your head and you honestly wondered if you would even be alive if it wasn’t for him and his team coming when they did. Your arms held him tight as well, afraid that if you didn’t, you would just fall to the floor. He caressed your head and just stayed like that with you until your crying ceased.

Breathing in his familiar scent, it brought back all the good memories you two shared. Cuddling on his couch watching old movies. Or down in his basement as he taught you what a wood planer did. Most of all, the nights where you lied tangled with each other in bed, him holding you close, making you feel so safe and loved.

You didn’t want to pull away but did and ran your shaky hands through your hair. He gently wiped your tear stained face and gave a small smile. God he looked so kissable right now.

“Stop giving me that look,” he said lowly, looking down at your lips.

“What look?” you asked innocently, becoming flushed at his intense gaze.

“You know what one.”

You could’ve easily leaned in for the kiss but chickened out at the last second and turned to grab the glass of whiskey you poured, taking a big sip, grimacing at the fire it lit down your throat. Then you poured him one and turned back to give it to him. He gave a silent thanks and the both of you walked back into the living room to sit on the couch. If Jethro gave any indication he was uncomfortable with the silence, he didn’t let you know as you gathered up the muster to start the conversation.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you today. It made me think about how we ended things-

“You. You ended things,” he corrected, taking a sip. The slight bitterness in his tone just reminded you how much you regretted the way things ended.

“I know. I know I did. And honestly, I regret it. I regret a lot of things Jethro. But it was a two way street. You shut me out. You put this..wall between us constantly and wouldn’t let me in.”

He stayed silent so you continued.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t have enough patience in our relationship. I know your job is tough and you can’t always tell me everything but I never wanted you to keep it bottled up. I hate that we- I ended it on such a bad note. I wish I could do it over again.”

You looked at him as he stared off into the distance but you knew he was listening.

“I just wanted to get that all off my chest. I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after you guys catch this guy but I can’t lie to myself and say I’m not still in love with you Jet.”

That’s when he looked over at you.

“Someone once told me that you are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress.”

You tilted your head in curiosity at his poetic answer and he chuckled to himself.

“I’m saying I forgive you. And I’m sorry too. I did shut you out and I shouldn’t have. You’ve always been the best thing that’s happened to me and when you left, you took a part of me with you.”

His words brought the tears back into your eyes, giving you the utmost sense of relief. He doesn’t hate you.

“Don’t start crying again. You know I hate seeing you cry,” he told you with a smile, knowing your tears were happy.

“You know I’m an emotional wreck Jet.” You dried your tears with your shirt and reached for his hand, him taking it without hesitation.

“Thank you.”

He just leaned in to give you a soft kiss on the corner of your lips, leaving you breathless.

“Since I’m the guest, I get to pick the movie,” he stated, smirking and grabbing the tv remote from the coffee table. You honestly could care less what western movie he planned on picking, you were on Cloud 9. You probably won’t get back together but you had your Jethro back and that’s all that mattered.

Note: Part 3? I know these 2 parts were more of a slow burn but I could pick up the pace in the next part. Let me know!

[ilguna]

can u do 6, 7, 66 list 2, carl grimes !! i don’t have a specific scenario though 😭 <3

spider web (Carl Grimes)

warnings; swearing, gun mention, arachnophobia.

wc; 3.7k

prompt; 6. "Kiss me and/or shut up." 7. "Where does it hurt?" 66. "Why are you always so dramatic?"

notes; set in a non-specific time after season 5, no major spoilers besides what happens at the prison.

–

The moment you stepped foot inside of Alexandria, you had a feeling that you’d be suffocated and controlled. It was the way that Aaron talked to you, like you were some misfortune teenager that ended up with Rick’s group, instead of deciding to stay. You have no blood-relation to anybody here, apparently that makes you irresponsible.

What really did it was when tried to make you hand over your gun, telling you that you’ll see it again. You’d just have to check it out from Olivia first on your way out of the walls. You couldn’t agree to it.

You’re not entirely sure why Rick and the rest of the group did. It could’ve been the desperation of wanting a safe place to lay their head, and Aaron and a few of the others had done an awful lot of convincing. However, none of you actually knew how safe it would be just yet, and you couldn’t trust them, not after what happened at Terminus.

So, you refused to bend to their rules until you knew that you could trust them. You didn’t care about what Rick or Carol felt, it was up to you. Olivia wasn’t happy about it, she told you that if you didn’t hand over your gun, then you’d be required to leave. Without another word, you’d pulled your bag onto your shoulders, tilting your head in the direction of the gate, asking if they’d escort you.

Aaron had to step in, backtracking. You were temporarily allowed to keep your gun on you until you were interviewed by Deanna. The entire time you sat outside with them on the porch, waiting your turn, was filled with Carl begging you not to do this. He didn’t want you to leave the group over a little disagreement.

They understood why you felt the way you did, but they reasoned that Terminus had left an impression on all of them. It’s exactly the reason why Rick didn’t believe Aaron about Terminus. Yet, here you all are, because they’re telling the truth so far.

“You don’t get it.” You snapped, turning your body away to face the street instead. Carol placed her hand on your shoulder, and you slapped it away. “And I don’t have to justify myself.”

You couldn’t promise anyone then and there that you wouldn’t leave. Not even Carol, who had been the one to save you the year prior from walkers. When you were alone, waiting for your dad to return from his run. One day turned to a week, and you knew he was dead somewhere, there was no point in waiting anymore. You didn’t know where to go. Carol came through the neighborhood an hour later, and she took you back to the prison.

That’s where you stayed, until the place got attacked by the Governor, and you were forced to leave. You were almost alone again, but Rick and Carl found you on the way, obviously in the middle of a fight. You tried to keep out of it. You knew Carl, you weren’t close enough to get into his familial affairs. He wasn’t as talkative back then.

It wasn’t until Michonne showed up, did he begin to talk to you more. You went from friends to best friends in the span of a week. 

It’s the reason why he begged you to stay in Alexandria and not leave. You’re safe to him, someone he can trust. He couldn’t afford to lose you over the fact that you couldn’t give up your only source of protection. Especially since your dad gave it to you before he left you there alone with the promise that he’d be back.

You had to explain this to Deanna, the entire time feeling her judgment. How could a teenage girl be so attached to something so dangerous? You knew that she wasn’t fond of the idea, so you tried to reason with her. You told her that you would take all the bullets out of the gun, but you wouldn’t give it to her. She couldn’t make you do that.

All she had to say was that there was a strict no-gun policy inside of the walls of Alexandria unless you were leaving them.

You vividly remember standing up, smiling, and saying: “Well, I guess it’s decided then.”

She was fooled, thinking that you were going to hand it over to her. She held out her palm, waiting for you to pull it out and place it there.

You shook your head, “I’m leaving.”

Deanna let you get all the way to the door, waiting to see if you were bluffing or telling the truth. When you didn’t stop, reaching for the doorknob, she finally asked what your conditions were. 

You scoffed, telling her that you wanted to keep the gun on you at all times, bullet included. You didn’t care about her policy, or if she thought that she and these walls could keep you safe. You didn’t believe her. You didn’t believe any of them, because you haven’t experienced Alexandria in the middle of a crisis.

“There’s never been a crisis before.” She told you smoothly.

“An even better reason for why I won’t be staying.”

“You’re a child.”

“No.” You snapped, turning to look at her, “I’m not, and I can perfectly handle myself, so what makes you think that I need you?” Silence followed the statement, while you waited for some half-assed lame excuse to leave her mouth. There was none, “That’s what I thought.”

“You can keep the gun.” She sighed, “But absolutely no bullets, and we’ll be checking your bag. Will you please sit back down?”

“No, I’m done talking to you.”

After that, it was nothing but a hassle to get the bullets to go outside. Deanna must’ve told Olivia not to give them to you, because you’ve had to sneak them out of the gun supply every single time if you needed them.

You could’ve left—you almost did—but Carl convinced you to stay. And to appease the urge to be outside, you’ve resorted to sneaking out, since they won’t let you through the front gate under any circumstances. Unless you’re accompanied by Carol or one of the others to supervise you. If they won’t let you leave safely, then you’ll find a different way out. At least then they would know that you left, instead of finding out that you’re missing several hours later.

The only person that knows you leave the walls anymore is Carl, and that’s because he finds the walls stuffy sometimes too. There’s only so much you can do in Alexandria before you begin to go insane, which is another reason why you were afraid of finding a place like this. You’ll forget that you’re surviving, not just living. What happens when those precious walls fall? You’ll be as useless as half of those Alexandrians.

“What’re you thinking about?” Carl asks, squeezing your hand when he looks over at you.

“Alexandria, unfortunately.” You sigh, “I miss the prison.”

He shrugs, “It was cold there.”

“We had a good community.” You defend.

“And the beds sucked.”

You roll your eyes, “At least there was a lot of work to do. We were never not busy.”

Carl stops walking, forcing you to stop too, “You know, if you want something to do—”

“Shut up.”

He grins, “You could get a job assignment.”

“Shut up.” You repeat, pulling your hand, “Forget I mentioned it.”

You start walking again, Carl follows, “If you’re too embarrassed, I can ask for you.”

“I’m not working for her, ever.”

“You say that now, but eventually you’re going to get bored of being bored. I know you better than that, (Y/n).”

You don’t say anything back, because he’s right. You’re not going to be able to sit around and do nothing. That’s why you wish you could ask to get a running assignment, so you can leave the walls when you want, for however you want. Instead of something stupid like landscape.

Carl knows very well that he’s the only reason why you’re staying. He better be careful when it comes to pushing your buttons.

Carl turns, heading for the nearest house. It's two-story, with a faded green outside and white trim. You follow him up the walkway, watching the street for any walkers that might be lurking nearby. You haven’t seen any the entire way here, not even in the shortcut through the woods. It’s odd seeing the world so bare of the dead.

Carl knocks on the front door a few times to draw attention of any walkers that may or may not be inside. You pull out your knife, the two of you quietly listening for any noises. When no dead show up at the windows, Carl is the first to enter cautiously. You check behind you one more time before stepping inside, shutting the door in case you’ve got trailers.

There’s been a few times where you’ve learned your lesson when it comes to keeping doors open. Carol always says that there’s nothing more dangerous than closed doors and inescapable houses. You disagree. If the door is shut, you know for certain that there’s nothing following you inside, unless it’s alive.

The two of you split to clear the house. You’ve been through this neighborhood plenty of times, and recognize the patterns to the layouts. You just haven’t been to this branch before, you and Carl take it one cul-de-sac at a time.

You creep into the kitchen on the left, eyes searching open places and hiding spots. You knock on the countertop to see if you can draw anything out of the shadows. You swing the pantry door open and jump back, finding it partially empty. There’s plenty to bring back to Alexandria, though.

You click on your flashlight as you get deeper into the house, heading into the laundry room. You check every corner and hiding space, finding nothing but a pile of clothes in the corner. With nothing here, you back out, and head into the main foyer, where Carl’s already waiting for you, sitting on the stair, messing with a tennis ball.

“Clear.” You murmur, “We’ve got a nice pantry to raid.”

“Let’s start with that first.” He says, tossing the ball into the living room.

The two of you dig through the cupboards and pantry, setting them on the counter to see just how much you’ve found. You have a feeling that everyone already knows that you sneak out frequently, really there’s no point in hiding it. You might as well bring back an apology gift, even if you aren’t sorry by any means.

You and Carl split the food into your bags to make it easier to carry. You zip up your bag and swing it onto your back again. Carl returns to the living room to look through the DVD’s. You sit on the arm of the couch, waiting for him patiently. He’s so funny when it comes to trying to find things for Judith to watch or toys to play with.

The house is pretty untouched since the beginning of the apocalypse, judging by the amount of food in the pantry. You get off of the couch, wandering over to the window sill. You have this game where you run your finger over the thick layer of dust. You roll it between your fingers, turning to flick it in Carl’s direction.

He watches it land by his feet, glaring at you, “Let’s go up.”

He goes up the stairs first, as usual. You follow him wordlessly, looking over the picture frames on the walls. A family lived here, parents and two teenagers—a boy and a girl. You brush some of the dust off to see a picture more clearly. 

At the top of the stairs, Carl points up, “(Y/n), look.”

You follow his finger, and see that he’s pointing out the attic to you. A smile comes over your face as you hurry up the rest of the steps. It’s your favorite part about exploring houses. What do they have stored in the attic? It’s typically Halloween costumes, Christmas decorations, old stuff that they use once a year, but sometimes there’s good shit.

“Bingo.” You grin.

You follow Carl into the teenage boy’s room. You curiously look at the video game posters on the wall while he opens drawers and sifts through the boys’ belongings. There’s no picture frames in here, nothing to tell his story besides the hallway. Carl pulls out a stack of comic books that he doesn’t own yet, and carefully slides them into his bag.

You watch him walk by a game system four times before he notices it. He’s excited when he sees the video games on the shelf beneath, looking through them one by one. He picks a few that he’s interested in, and then the two of you leave to check out the other rooms.

The parents’ bedroom is uniform and cleanly made, untouched since the day they left. You find a few sweaters in Carol’s size that she might like, folding them over your arm to carry them with you for the time being. Carl tries to find something for his dad, but he’s at a loss. Everything here would be too out of character for him.

The final room belongs to the girl. You open the door this time, going to take a step inside. 

The smell of rotting corpses is all too familiar to your nose by now, but the odor inside of the room is foul. You let out a gag, covering your nose while you take several steps back, shaking your head, “I’m not going in there.”

“We’ve seen worse.” Carl peeks.

“I’m sure we have. I’m still not going in there.”

Carl reaches in to grab the doorknob, “Alright, let’s go into the attic, then.”

The two of you work together to get to the string that’s hanging from the ceiling. Carl brings the rolling chair from the boys’ room into the hallway. You step onto the chair, using his shoulder as support while he holds it steady. You pull the door open, and a flurry of dust comes raining down on you.

While you cover your mouth and nose, you realize that there’s no ladder that usually goes with it.

You let out a sigh, “Well, this sucks.”

You reach your hand in the air, trying to see if your fingers even graze the edge of the opening, and they don’t. You can’t even guarantee that a jump would get you up there, either. You hop off the chair, placing your hands on your hips, biting the inside of your cheek.

Suddenly you redirect your attention to Carl with a smile.

He frowns, “What is it?”

“You know, you’re tall.” You flash him a toothy smile, “Let me on your shoulders.”

Carl makes a face, slowly starting to shake his head.

“Don’t say no yet, we haven’t tried it.”

“Babe, this is a great way to get us both killed because we end up falling down the stairs and breaking our necks.” He reasons.

“Just drop me in the other direction.” You wave off his concern, then motion for him to get down.

Carl closes his eyes, but lowers to his knees, “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

“I’m lucky you love me.” You agree, carefully placing your thighs on his shoulders, “Up we go!”

Carl takes a deep breath, holding it as he struggles to find a good footing. He uses the wall to help him extend his legs all the way, eventually reaching for the closet doorknob to get him up the rest of the way. You steady on his shoulders, being careful not to make any big movements. He takes it one step at a time to bring you beneath the hole, and then adjusts his stance.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this for you, and if he accidentally drops you, it wouldn’t be the first time you fell down the stairs. That’s why you’re not worried about it. You haven’t died yet, so there is no reason to be careful.

You can grab onto the edges now, and you pull yourself up most of the way. You’re very careful when you use Carl’s shoulders to push up the rest of the way. It’s dark as all hell up here, once your butt is firmly planted, you click on your flashlight, watching the dust dance in front of the newfound light.

There are loads of boxes and containers, all written on to tell you what they hold. You look for a ladder, but don’t seem to find one. It must be in the garage, that’s the only other place where it would make sense. You wiggle onto your stomach, placing the flashlight down while you reach down to grab Carl.

“No ladder?”

“Must be in the garage.” You say.

He steps onto the chair, and then proceeds to jump to take your hand, sending the chair flying across the hall. You let out a light laugh, beginning to pull him up. You hold with both hands for most of the way, but as soon as he can reach, you switch to one hand only. Carl swings himself into the attic, and it takes him five minutes of deep breathing before he decides that he’s ready to help you look through boxes.

Just as you thought, there’s Halloween costumes. Carl pulls out a pirate hat and tosses it to you to wear while he pulls over an eye patch, “Aye aye Captain.” He muses.

You let out a snort.

While he continues to go through the other boxes, looking for any swords, you end up stopping on a bin marked ‘grandma’s stuff’. You pop open the lid, pulling out the covered wedding dress and laying it on the ground. The further you get into the box, the sadder you seem to get.

There’s an old jewelry box, inside lies precious gems and silvers that their grandma must’ve loved at some point. You wind the back of the box, watching the ballerina begin to spin first, then the twinkling song plays slowly. You run your finger over the rings, necklaces and earrings.

There’s a photo album in the box. It’s falling apart at the seams, so you’re extra gentle with it while you look through it. It’s old pictures, all greyed out and almost hard to make out what they’re supposed to be. Family pictures that must be decades old, maybe grandma when she was younger. There’s a polaroid here and there, nothing too amazing. The box stops singing, and you careful put everything back inside of the container.

A tickling sensation touches your shoulder, you try to brush it off, taking it as a piece of dust or something. Except, when it’s sticky, you look over.

A scream leaves your throat as you swat away the spider web, rubbing it on your jeans, while heading for the only escape. Carl watches you in stunned silence, until he realizes what you’re about to do.

“(Y/n)---wait!”

You slip out of the attic, falling several feet until you hit the hardwood floor. First its your feet as you twist your ankle, your knees painfully slamming next, the last being your hands.

“Ouch, fuck!” You shout, face twisting as you immediately move to grab your ankle.

A black speck with several legs reminds you why you had left the attic in the first place. Another scream, much louder and terrified than the last, follows. You brush your skin rapidly, backing away from the area as you desperately try to find the demon somewhere on the floor.

“(Y/n)?” Carl asks, hanging his head out of the attic, the eyepatch slips off his head, and he barely catches it in the air.

“I fucking—” You slam your good foot on the spider, dragging your foot a little to ensure that it’s dead, “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Why are you always so dramatic?” He sighs, hanging his feet out, and then dropping down.

“I’m not kidding, Carl.” You snap, wincing when you try to roll your ankle to stretch it, “It fucking hurts.”

He’s on the tip of his toes, shirt riding up as he stretches to grab the string to shut the attic. He watches it resume its place, “All over a little spider.”

You slam your good foot into his skin, boot scraping along skin. He lets out a yelp, backing away from you. You shake your head, turning over onto your knees to get up carefully, using the wall as support. It hurts to put any weight on your right ankle, but you have no choice. There’s a long walk back home with a heavy backpack and a wall to scale.

“Let’s just go.” You mumble, limping over to the steps. You’re sure that you’re doing more harm than good by walking on it.

“Hold on.” Carl says, grabbing your arm, “Let me look at it.”

“No.” You snap, he lets you pull away from his grasp.

He doesn’t care, getting onto his knees, hand on the back of your calf to keep you from going anywhere while he unties your shoe. He’s very gentle when it comes to pulling off the boot and peeling back the sock to take a look for himself. 

“Where does it hurt?”

“Right on the ankle.” You sigh through your nose, looking away from him.

He ignores the noise, pressing on the skin, watching your face for a reaction. He gets it when he presses a little too hard and you grimace. You jerk forward, placing your hand on his head to steady yourself.

“There.” You motion, “The last spot you touched.”

He helps you stretch it enough to the point where you can stand on it without too much pain, “My poor baby is in so much pain.”

“Kiss me and shut up.” You tell him, he smiles.

[marie-swriting]

He'll Be Here | In My Life Again - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw [2/2]

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : ten years later, Bradley wants to apologize for the way it ended between you and him.

Warnings : set after Top Gun Maverick, Mitchell!reader, angst, happy ending, maybe some grammatical as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.6k

Song inspiration : The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

After spending several hours working on Pete’s P-51 Mustang, this latter and Bradley go to have a drink in Pete’s kitchen. Bradley sits down while Pete opens the fridge and looks for two beers ; Bradley’s eyes find a picture on the wall, he looks at his eighth birthday photo with nostalgia. His cake is in front of him and you by his side. Both of you have a huge smile on your face, ignorant of what the future would hold for you. Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest when Bradley remembers he’ll never have the opportunity of seeing your radiant smile on your face whilst he’s next to you again. 

Pete puts a beer in front of Bradley and snaps him out of his thoughts. He thanks him and takes a sip, his eyes finding their way back to the picture, in spite of him.

“You know,” Bradley starts, catching Pete’s attention, “that day, there was a moment where Y/N wasn’t next to me anymore so I went to look for her. I found her hiding in my closet with tears in her eyes. When I asked her what was the matter, she just told me to not pay attention to her, that I needed to stay with my other friends. I said to her I didn’t care about them, especially because she needed me at that moment. That’s when she confessed she was scared of losing me because I had met friends my age who would replace her. I couldn’t believe she thought that !” he exclaims, his eyes wide open. “In my head, it was obvious she could never be replaced, no matter how close I was to my other friends so I promised her she’d never lose me, that I’ll always be by her side. No matter what. I made her this promise and I’ve been breaking it for ten years now.” Bradley mutters, looking down.

“Have you tried talking to her ?” Pete asks, after a few seconds.

“Yes, several times over the years. The first time was a year after our breakup. I wasn’t far away from her Uni so I went to see her. Long story short, she told me to get lost. The last time was a week ago when she came back. I got the same reaction.”

“I’m sure she just needs a bit of time.” Pete reassures him, putting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “I never thought you’d talk to me again and look at us ! Things can get better. The bond you two shared was strong.” he affirms.

“I find that hard to believe, she hates me. And don’t even try to tell me otherwise.” Bradley adds, seeing Pete was about to talk. “She hates me and it’s understandable.” he admits, sadly. “She had nothing to do with all of this and yet I hold her accountable just the same. And the worst part is she warned me.” he specifies, taking another sip. “There were numerous times where she told me to get my shit together and stop ruining our relationship because of my anger toward you but I didn’t listen to her. I took her for granted so I kept messing up until she got tired of it and I’ve been paying the price ever since.” Bradley exclaims, bitterly. “You know, I’ve accepted the fact she’d never forgive me, however I’d still like to apologise properly. I just want her to know how much I regret how things ended between us, no matter if she answers me or just insults me. It might be too late but she deserves me to fix my mistakes, no matter if she forgives me.”

“I can talk to her if you want to. I can convince her to listen to you.”

“No, don’t say anything.” Bradley refuses after drinking. “If she listens to me I want it to be because she wants to, not because you asked her to.”

“As you wish.” he concedes with a heavy heart.

The two men stay silent for a moment, enjoying their drink. Bradley is finally able to detach his gaze from the photo, staring into the void.

“You still love her, don’t you ?” Pete asks, bringing Bradley’s eyes on him.

“And I always will. She was my first friend and my first love. She’ll always have a place in my heart even if I don’t have one in hers anymore. I miss her so much, Mav’, if you knew.” Bradley confesses, tearing up.

“She’ll never say it out loud but she misses you too. Bradley, I promise you things will get better between the two of you.”

Bradley takes the last sip of his beer, hoping it’ll help him with his tears and the knot in his throat. At the same time he puts the bottle down, the main door opens. He knows it’s you so he quickly stands up. He doesn’t want to give you another reason to hate him therefore he tries not to run into you, though his heart only wants that. You walk in the kitchen, talking about your afternoon with Penny and Amelia to your father until you find Bradley. Instantly, you tense up and glare at your former best friend. Bradley bids goodbye to you and Pete before leaving. Pete rolls his eyes at your attitude.

“What ? I didn’t tell him anything.” you defend yourself, searching for something in the fridge.

“You might as well have.”

“Look, it’s not because you forgave him that I have to be nice to him.” you retort, closing the fridge without finding anything interesting. “Unlike you, I haven’t forgotten the way he treated us, the way he cut us out of his life.”

“I haven’t forgotten either.”

“Really ? Because it sure seems like it. It seems you’ve forgotten the pain he caused us, caused me, all the nights I spent crying because of him, all the nights where you had to hold me in your arms while I was sobbing.”

“I remember very well.” Pete admits, trying to stay calm, “But Y/N, he’s changed, okay ? Besides, he was grieving, he was hurt, angry and young-”

“Young ?” you cut him, furious. “He was twenty-five ! He was a grown ass adult, he knew very well what he was doing.”

“Okay, he has his faults as well, but he really feels bad about the way he treated you. You could at least listen to him.” he suggests and you roll your eyes.

“And did he listen to you when you tried to explain yourself ? He sent you packing. I don’t get why I should be the one making an effort. And as my father, shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from him ?”

“Not when I know what you mean to each other.”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me. And for a long time now.” you state.

“It’s not true and you know it.”

“I don’t understand why you insist so much.”

“I’m responsible for your fallout.”

“He messed up himself.” you correct, tearing up. “He’s the one who let his anger destroy what we had. He’s the one who distanced himself from me. He ruined everything himself.”

“It’s true, nonetheless you can’t deny if I hadn’t pulled his papers, you’d still be together. Hell, you’d probably even be married with a kid now !”

“Wow, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” you say, shocked. “If he hadn’t fucked up, we’d probably still be together, yeah but the fact is you’re not responsible for it. Look, I’m glad you two put your differences aside, it just won’t be the case for me. Anyway, we should stop here.” you order, crossing your arms on your chest. “I don’t want to argue with you, I only have two weeks left with you before I go home.”

“You can be stubborn at times !” he sighs.

“I got that from my dad.” you smile at him.

“Sometimes,  I wish you hadn’t.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little before starting to leave the room.

“He came back for me.” Pete confesses, stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you talking about ?”

“During my last mission.”

“I thought it was Hangman.” you say, frowning. 

“Hangman came to save us when we were on our way home. Bradley had strict orders to leave me behind when I sacrificed myself for him. But he came back. He didn’t listen and he came back. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have been able to leave the enemy territory.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before ?” you ask softly.

“Bradley told me not to. He didn’t want you to think he did that out of interest.”

You stay silent for a few moments, taking in this new piece of information. You can’t help but feel grateful for Bradley, though your anger is still there.

“It’s good to know that, at least, in the air, he has your back.” you state, leaving.

Pete sighs, seeing you walk away. He knows he promised Bradley to not get in the middle of this - even Penny told him to stay out of it, yet he can’t help it. You and Bradley were childhood best friends. He never would have imagined you’d stop talking to each other, in particular because of him. That’s why he can’t stay silent. He might have been the cause of your conflit but he wants to be the reason for your reconciliation. Furthermore, he knows he can reason you and with this last information, he was hoping it’d make you change your mind. Pete can’t help but feel a heartache, understanding it’s not the case.

However, what Pete doesn’t know is that your conversation has affected you. That night, you can’t seem to fall asleep. Your father’s words and your story with Bradley are echoing in your head. You keep tossing and turning in your bed, desperately hoping to put your brain on hold.

Once you can’t take it anymore, you turn on your bedside lamp and stand up. You walk to your closet and open it. You take a deep breath before pushing some clothes to the side in the corner of your closet until you find a box, you haven’t opened it for years. When you had started to grieve your romance with Bradley, you had put every picture, letter and object reminding you of him in that box. You were still too attached to him to throw everything away but too hurt to keep everything next to you.

The box in your hand, you sit down and open it. Tears make their way to your eyes in an instant as soon as you find your prom photo - if your heart wasn’t hurting that much, you’d laugh at your dress. In the picture, you’re looking at each other lovingly. You wish you could go back to this moment where everything was easier.  You put the picture next to you and keep finding others from birthday parties, outings, travels you did at different ages. You hold back your tears until you read the letter he wrote for your eighteenth birthday. At that moment, it becomes too much so you quickly put everything back at its place and go back to bed.

Of course, you’re still hurting from your breakup. Bradley was the most important person to you though you can’t forget the way it ended. With what your father told you, Bradley seems to be the Bradley you used to love once more but you can’t risk another heartbreak. 

For the first time in ten years, your heart seems torn between staying mad at Bradley or hearing him out. You try to reason yourself, remembering why you’re angry at him in the first place, though it’s complicated now.

Sitting at the restaurant near Top Gun, you finish telling your order to the waiter. Once he leaves, you grab your phone and send a text to your father to inform him you’ve already ordered. You’re supposed to eat with Pete who is more than thirty minutes late and quite frankly, you’re starving. You don’t worry when you get no response, knowing he probably hasn’t finished working yet. 

While waiting for your food, you keep checking your phone until the hostess comes to you. Expecting to see your dad, you put your phone down, smiling. Your smile disappears as soon as you see Bradley. The woman wishes you a nice meal before leaving you two alone. Bradley is uncomfortable because of the look you’re giving.

“What are you doing here ?” you question, drily.

“Huh, I’m supposed to eat with Mav’.”

“No, I am supposed to eat with him and…”, you start before understanding the conversation, “I can’t believe he did that.” you sigh, making Bradley frown. “He’s set it up to be sure we’d see each other. Look, I’ve already ordered and I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time left before you have to get back to work so we can eat together.”

“You don't mind ?”

“It’s just for a meal.” you say as he sits down. “I see you’re still punctual.” you comment, sarcastically, Bradley looks at you confused. “I was supposed to meet my dad at noon. You’re thirty minutes late.” you inform, checking your notifications on your phone.

“He told me he reserved for half past twelve.”

“He really thought about everything.”

The waiter gives you your meal then, he takes Bradley’s order before going back to the kitchen.

You start eating silently. Bradley doesn’t stop moving on his seat, not knowing how to act around you. You don’t like the palpable tension either, you’re in the same situation as him. Before, your conversations didn’t have an end, a subject would always appear naturally. Now, you think twice before speaking, not wanting to create an awkward moment.

You stay in this heavy silence until the waiter gives Bradley his plate. Bradley sighs in relief, finally having something to do instead of being uncomfortable. When you’re done eating, you take a sip of your glass of water before talking.

“My father told me what you did for him on your last mission. Thank you for coming back for him.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I could have never left Mav’ behind.” Bradley genuinely states.

You smile at him quickly and Bradley takes this start of conversation as a small victory. He’s grateful for Pete’s help, even if he didn’t listen to him. Bradley tells himself that this moment is his only chance to fix his wrongs with you so he finishes eating the piece of meat he has in his mouth and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“Y/N, can I talk to you ? You don’t have to say anything. I’d be happy if you only listened to me.”

“Go ahead.”

Bradley take a deep breath before looking deeply in your eyes and starting to speak : 

“Look, I know I messed up with you. I’ll forever feel bad for the way we broke up. I should have come at your birthday and-”

“Are you seriously talking about that ?” you question, in disbelief. “Bradley, it’s not the thing-”

“I know I did worse.” he interrupts you, knowing what you were going to say. “I know your birthday isn’t what hurt you the most, the fact is, it was your breaking point. Had I come, we might have found a solution, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. I’m sorry for that night, I know I hurt you by not coming. I also know I broke your heart by ignoring you and your dad after we broke up or with what I said. I know it’s not an excuse but I was in this awful period of my life and I had to exteriorize what I was feeling and when Pete pulled my paper, it was on him then on you. I never should have lashed out on you because our relationship got damaged and that affacted our friendship, too, and for this, I’d forever be mad at myself. I should have prioritised you. I hate knowing I made you cry. I never would have thought I’d be the cause of your pain. I’m sincerely sorry for everything, above all I’m sorry for breaking my promise. If I could, I’d go back in time, I’d do everything to not lose you, to not break my promise. And maybe I’m pushing my luck right now but you’ve listened to me this far so I might as well say it ;  if you agreed to give me another chance, I’d love to be a part of your life again. You still mean a lot to me.”

Bradley finally breathes once he’s done talking. He’s sick in his stomach, fearing your reaction. Before, he could predict what you were gonna say or do with just one look. He doesn’t like the way you’ve become strangers. You need a few seconds to take in what he told you before replying.

“Thank you for everything you said. I appreciate your apologies but I need time.” you confess before looking at the time on your phone. “I have to go. I’m gonna pay.”

“I can totally-”

“I insist. Take this as a thank you for my father. Goodbye Bradley.”

Contrary to ten years ago, your goodbye is full of nostalgia and not of bitterness. Bradley stays static for a few moments, eyes on the restaurant’s door you’ve just walked through. Sure, nothing is done yet. You didn’t say you wanted him in your life again however you listened to him and that’s all that matters. He can only hope this victory is big enough to bring you back to him.

The next few days and nights, you’re lost in your thoughts which have Bradley as a main character. You think back to his words and specifically of the way you two used to be before everything bad happened. You were fine, close and in love. The months after your breakup, you wanted to have this once more, before your hurt turned into anger. If Bradley had tried apologising at that moment and not a year later, you would have forgiven him in a heartbeat. 

Now, you’re hesitating. You’re scared there’s going to be another conflict and Bradley decides to cut you out of his life once more. You wouldn’t handle it if it were to happen. Though, you wish to have Bradley in your life one more time. 

While you’re thinking, you see Bradley occasionally as he comes to your place. You don’t talk but you observe him and a part of you wants to have him close. Pete keeps speaking up for Bradley, more or less discreetly. All of this is making you change your mind and breaking the walls you had built around your heart.

After another night of staying awake, you tell yourself it’s time to speak with Bradley. You can’t stay like this anymore. Therefore, when the sun is up, you muster up your courage and call Bradley. You tell him to meet you at your place at a certain hour at the end of the afternoon, knowing Pete will be with Penny so you’ll be alone.

Your anxiety at its highest, you’re sitting on your couch and playing with a loose strand of a pillow. Despite the TV on, your eyes go from the door then to the time on your phone. There’s a knot in your stomach as you have a feeling of déjà vu.

You feel like you’re twenty-three once again, in your old house with your party dress and your red lipstick, waiting desperately for Bradley, only this time, he arrives on time, like he promised. Indeed, five minutes later, you hear a car parking in your driveway before someone knocks on your door. With one movement, you stand up after turning off the TV then, you open the door, finding Bradley, putting his Hawaiian shirt back in place. You let him in and you go to your living room.

When you’re sitting next to each other, your stress grows stronger. Was this a good idea ? What if now it was too late for him ? What if he got tired of waiting for so long ? As for Bradley, his mind is not at ease either : ‘maybe she just wants to tell me face to face she doesn’t want to see me anymore ? Or maybe in addition to her life, she doesn’t want me in Mav’s life either ?’. Finally, you’re the one cutting the tension.

“I’ve been thinking,” you begin, avoiding his gaze, “about what you told me and about us.” you state, setting your eyes on him. “Although I appreciate your apology, a part of me can’t help but think back to all the times where you apologised just to hurt me every chance you got.” you keep saying and Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest. “Though, I want to believe this time will be different. After all, if it worked out between you and my dad, why not us ? I want to forgive you, have you in my life again, however it’s the last time I forgive you, I won’t have the strength to do this one more time. I don’t know if we’ll ever have what we used to have and maybe our friendship will never be as strong as it used to be but I miss you so much. I miss my best friend.” you confess, tears in your eyes.

“I miss you so much, too, Y/N.”

“If it’s not too late for you, I still want you in my life as well.” you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve always been the one I want, it’s never been too late for me.” Bradley affirms with a determined voice, putting his hand on your cheek. “I promise you it’s the last time, I won’t hurt you anymore and you will not lose me either and I will really keep these promises.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself in Bradley’s arms and hold against you the person you missed the most the past ten years.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

[a-simply-simping-simp]

Guess who's still crying about Beast? Me! I watched the movie and read the beggining and end of the light novel because I got lazy. Not expecting the end in the movie though. Spoiler drawing ahead and comments btw

Made me so sad. I was going to rant in another post, but I might as well do it here.

So, number one, the sugar cube scene was so adorable I literally cried. I mean it. Like I LITERALLY sobbed.

Number 2, Oda WHYYYYYYYY?! I'M LITERALLY CRYING WHILE TYPING WRITE NOW THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE FRIENDS, YOU ARE, PLEASEEEE. DAZAI'S FACE WHEN HE PULLED THE GUN OUT IN THE BAR AND TOLD HIM NOT TO CALL HIM ODASAKU WAS LIKE A SLAP TO THE FACE.

Number 3, When at the end of the movie, Fyoder was being a little rat and messed everything up, I wanted to vomit out of an array of emotions. I was confused, sad, angry, and just so dang overwhelmed. Like I was ugly crying five seconds ago cuz of Dazai and then this SEWER RAT came and made me confused. I'll get into him in anothe post.

Number 4, In the movie, when Dazai stabbed his leg to show Chuuya his commitment and how much he deserves his trust didn't make sense when I saw it, however, after I recently read the book and watched the play Julius Ceaser, I was like OOOOOOOOH. Dazai immitating Portia and Chuuya Brutus made me just sooo....wow.

Number 5, When it turned out that MORI was the new director I just- absolutley NOT. Do NOT put a pedophile in his perfect Utopia, Dazai WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Also, I thought he killed him the whole time. Just think about it. A pedophile in an orphanage. You know how if you're being sexually assulted or something, you're supposed to tell a trusted adult like a parentor a teacher? THESE KIDS HAVE NO PARENTS.

Number 6, Chuuya being locked up in that poor governemnt facility broke my heart. Just think about how many people are going to die? Like there is no way Chuuya Nakahara is going to succumb to a bunch of itsy bitsy chains. He' breaking out and killing everyone in there and then the agency. Convince me otherwise.

Number 7, I can't. I'll make an entirely seperate post for Chuuya too, but can we just talk for a second? He went crazy because Dazai committed suicide. He went on a whole rampage and it took 3 special ability resistance units to take him down. This is what happens when there is no Dazai when he uses corruption. But the REASON he went into corruption was just...wow. I always knew they had a complicated relationship but at the same time it was just so simple. Like, they hate eachother, but they also don't. They don't like eachother, but it's not like they don't either. It's not like they complete one another, but it's like one soul in two bodies. They're so simply complicated that if you asked me what their relation was, I'd just say, they're complications. Because in reality, their relationship is just so unexplainable. You need to see it to understand it. There are lovers, enemys, frenemies, friends, siblings, etc, but they fit into literally no category but they aren't strangers either. This is getting too long, so I'll make a different post about that.

Number 8, Chuuya pleaseeee don'ttttt. There is no need to attack the agency, my guy. He wants to avenge Dazai's death, but what is there to avenge? Dazai did suicide. He wasn't killed. Chuuya was so upset that he wanted to kill all the agency. I just....can't. It's kind of sad. This is also going to be really long if I go on, so I'll make another post about this topic.

Number 9, the way Chuuya just really couldn't understand made me wanna bang my head on the wall in tears. He truly couldn't think of why Dazai did it. He was kind of alright one second and then dead the next. The entire time, you can tell how little Chuuya was incorporated into the script he wrote. The ending for each one was different as the movie had him go insane and be put under governemnt care, while the light novel just left him to do his own thing. However, in both you can see that neither of them ever knew what was going on. Dazai never gave him a reason to why he killed himself. Everyone else seems to be going on like nothing happened or at least as if they know what happened and came to terms with it, but then he knows nothing. He was his bodyguard and right hand man and yet NOTHING. I'll get back to this in another post lol. TvT

So yeah. I cried a lot.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Tyranny of Distance

I'm sorry this update feels late, but I'm so busy with Uni. Also, I'm sorry it's taking so long to get to the end, I had more plot in me than I thought I did. Please comment if you're enjoying yourself.

Part 1, part 2, part 3

Part four of The Way the Stars Love the Heavens series.

Contains: Slow burn, mega angst, violence, blood, death, another cliffhanger. Not beta read, likely full of mistakes.

Follow #the way the stars love the heavens for updates

3.1K words

Grenade - a small bomb thrown by hand or launched mechanically.

You paused in the hallway and looked at the door as your blood ran cold. "What is it?"

You swallowed, you hoped your lie was convincing. "Nothing, I'm just worried about the guys."

The clicking of a holster told you he didn't buy it.

"What gave me away?"

You spun slowly and raised your arms, hoping the gun pointed at you wouldn't go off. 

"Take your pick, you haven't said two words to me until tonight. You managed to make it through a full-on assault that killed everyone else in the building without a scratch in record time, and then you didn't wire the door. They'd have blueprints, they'd know this tunnel is here. Any sane person would have done something to the door to give us a head start."

He huffed. "Smart woman. I don't want to hurt you, if you come with me, nothing will happen to you."

You didn't move, and a rush of sadness came over you. "Where's Arin?"

He shrugged. "Dead. If it makes you feel any better, he died trying to get to you." It was said so coldly, just because you knew his answer would be didn't make it any better.

"Why are you doing this?" You had to get out of there, there was another door in a few feet that opened to another service tunnel, if you could only get to that, you might stand a chance.

"Money, why else." Of course, that was always the answer. He lifted one hand off his gun and put it into his pocket, making a show of taking the object out and waving it around, it was a syringe filled with white fluid. "Now come with me or I'll make you."

You took a deep breath, you would only get one chance to lunge for the syringe. You stepped carefully, keeping your eyes on his hands as you moved closer to him. You took another deep breath as he turned sideways so you could pass in front of him, and you acted. You slammed your shoulder into his chest and managed to knock him against the wall hard enough that he dropped the drugs, and then it was on. He shoved you back, then kicked your legs out from under you and got on top of you while reaching for the syringe.

You twisted your body as much as you could with his weight on top of you and did the same, you were both struggling for the same few millilitres to get it in your grasp. A flash of neck flesh gave you an idea and you kneed him in the side as hard as you could before twisting your head and sinking your teeth into his neck. He screamed, and the second he lifted his weight to detach you, you grabbed the syringe and rammed the needle into his exposed forearm.

It acted fast, his body going limp on top of you as he wiggled out from under him. You finally stood up and kicked him onto his back before using the last bits of his consciousness to whisper a threat into his ear. "I'm going to strip you to you boxers, take everything of use to me then tie you up and leave you here. You wanna hope the fucks find you before the 141 does, because I'm going to make sure they know what you did."

After striping him and tying him up, you stopped to take one of his grenades and used a length of his shoelace to wire to the door so if they opened it, it would blow, then you took whatever else you could from him and continued down the hall to the other service door. You were getting out of here alive, you had no other options.

****

They had lost contact twenty minutes ago and no matter how hard Gaz tried, he couldn't get it back. 

"Something's fucking wrong, I just know it." Ghost had been pacing like a wounded animal waiting for news, but no matter how much he walked, his worry never disappeared. 

"We'll get there brother, anything could have happened, this doesn't mean the worst." Soap knew his words were hollow, contact didn't just go dark and stay that way for no reason. 

"Y/n to Gaz, y/n to Gaz." 

Gaz spun around to find the source of the sound. "Y/n to Gaz, please tell me you can hear me." 

It wasn't his military radio that went off, it was his personal radio he had rigged to pick up his favourite radio station. He had taken apart a two-way radio, removed some parts and added others. It worked fine, the only downside was that it sometimes picked up other signals. 

"What signal wave is that?" The worry was evident in Ghost's voice 

He didn't answer, he was already rushing to dial the truck radio so he could reply. "What's happening? All our other lines are dead." 

"We're under attack. I don't know how many are dead and Peters was a turncoat. I'm in the service tunnels now, I can't talk long but please get back here, it's bad." Your voice was only just above a whisper, they could almost hear your racing heart above your hushed words. 

They were already getting into their humvees and Ghost yanked the radio from Gaz's hands. "We're coming back love, don't you worry. Do you know how many of them there are?" 

He heard you take a deep breath, as if you were steeling yourself. "Nope, but I'm going to see if I can find out. I took one of their radios. I'll report back what I hear."  

Price was shaking his head, half in disbelief and half in approval but Ghost wasn't interested. "No you won't you'll find a place to hide and you'll stay there." Deep down, he knew you wouldn't listen but for his own sanity, he still tried. 

"I can't do that Simon. We'll talk soon." 

He fought the urge to punch the dashboard as he heard the radio click off. "She's got Cajones, I'll give her that." Ghost's glare didn't stop Alejandro from continuing. "We need to know what we're driving into Mano, you can put your heart before your head once we know we're not heading towards an ambush." 

Price nodded. "Get Laswell on the line now and get me sat photos." He looked at the GPS and set his shoulders. "We're making good time, we'll wait over the ridge line and plan until we have the full picture." 

****

Every single bone in your body wanted to listen to Simon and find a place to hide but you had to keep going, if you didn't find out how many men were here, you'd be walking the 141 to their deaths. 

The service tunnels were serving you well, but you were running out of ways to keep the door shut behind you, there was only so much you could do with bits of torn up clothes. 

The radio at your hip crackled and you paused to listen. "She's using the tunnels, find her now." It was the same southern voice, Graves was in the base running the whole thing. The bang in the distance told you it was time to get going but you didn't have many options, you couldn't go backwards and you had no idea if the old janitorial closet down this hall was even there anymore. 

They were coming closer now and the radio cracked again as someone asked for help with the man who had been stupid enough to open the door without checking it first. You turned the radio down, took a deep breath and looked around but the idea didn't come to you until you looked at the ceiling. 

The crawl space. 

All you had to do was shift the ceiling tile to the side with the barrel of the assault rifle, then start at a run to get enough momentum to jump up and grab the edge. Between the weight of the gun and your shaking hands, it took you a few goes to get enough space, but in the end, you did, and you shook your legs out before backing up and rushing full charge as you reached up for the edge of the opening. 

Your fingers grabbed the edge as every muscle in your body tightened to pull you up. You shoved the tile back in place and pressed yourself against the wall to take a breath as the voices got closer. You knew you would have to walk carefully, stick to the supports so you didn't make a sound but the darkness and the shake that was building in your limbs was making it hard. 

"Where the fuck did she go?" They must have been right below you now, you couldn't describe how you felt but you hated it, you didn't know how the guys did it. 

"She must have found another door. Fan out and find her or we're dead." You felt a rush of relief as you heard them leave, you were safe for now. 

****

"FUCK" They had never seen Ghost so uncontrolled before, it was like he was a different person. The satellite photos weren't good, there were five tanks stationed outside the base and they had no idea how many men were inside.

Price put a hand on Ghost's shoulder and gave him a shake. "You need to pull yourself together. Laswell said air support is half an hour out, until then we wait until we get more news from inside."

Ghost shook him off and went back to pacing, they could see the flashing of the guns over the ridge. "The men are putting up a good fight. We've got to trust that they're holding it down." Soap didn't know what help to offer his friend, they all knew the odds of this ending well.

Ghost leaned his weight against the car and took a deep breath, he knew he wasn't going to be any good to anyone like this. "Alright, we need to get in there now, so come on boys, let's come up with a better plan."

****

"There are twenty of us, why the fuck can't we find her?" The bits of information you had been gathering gave you a boost and now that you knew how many men were in the building, all you had to do was wait until the men in the hallway you were crouched above left so you could contact the 141 again. 

It only took a few minutes, but it felt like hours, the waiting making your hands shake and your throat tight as you stock still stood long enough to deliver the news to the guys. When you finally keyed the radio, Ghost's voice came across the line, worry lining it like the metal of a dynamite box. "What's going on?" 

You paused for a second, making sure no one was below you. "I'm in the crawl space in the ceiling. There are twenty men in the building. When I was above the common room, one of them said they brought seventy guys. I don't know how many of them are outside or in other buildings."

You could hear the men talking between themselves, and then Ghost's voice returned. "Can you get the supply closet L?" 

You knew why he was asking, there was a drain in the floor that led all the way to the outside, he was hoping you would leave. You went through the floorplan in your head, that supply closet was on the other side of the building. "I don't think so." A sound below made your heart jump and you lowered your voice as much as you could. "I need to go, someone's coming." 

As quietly as you could, you bent down to look through the vent and caught a gasp in your throat when you saw Graves with two of his men. "Could she have gotten out?" He sounded enraged. 

"We don't fucking know, we can't get into the serivce tunnel. It caved in when the charge went off. Peters is still MIA." There was a tinge of fear in the man's reply. 

"Well fucking find her, that idiot Peters made it clear that if we wanted anything out of the 141 we'd need to use her as a bargaining chip." You followed their voices as they moved away, balancing on the heavy steel supports like a tightrope walker so your footfalls didn't make a sound. The sound of one of the outside doors opening then closing finally gave you a chance to relax for a moment, but the sound of whimpering below you got right back on the ride. 

You found another vent and looked down, your eyes growing wide when you saw Arin trying to crawl his way to his gun, and despite every single survival instinct inside you screaming at you to stay put, you pushed a ceiling tile aside and dropped down with a less than quiet thud, just missing a door off its hinges on the way. 

You ran to him and knelt by him, a small smile appearing on his face as his voice stuttered. "You're alive." 

You nodded. "I am, and I got word to the guys, they're working on it right now." 

You grabbed his hands and brought them to his bleeding chest. "Peters told me you were dead." 

He shook his head and coughed, blood splatting as his chest heaved. "Almost. You gotta get out of here." 

You both knew he wasn't going to make it, he was paling by the second. "I'm not going anywhere." You took the gun slung over your shoulder and placed it next to him, waving your hand as he protested. "I can grab another one. I don't know how many bullets are left." 

He looked from the gun to you and back again. "Go, hurry." He clenched his jaw and hardened his face. "Now." You wanted to stay for a little longer, tell him how thankful you were for your short time together but you could hear footsteps, and suddenly there was no time left. You ran past a body, palming a single grenade before using a blown open door as leverage to pull yourself back up into the ceiling. 

Just as well because the second the tile was back in place, Graves' voice returned to the hallway. "We're making good time boys, I think this day is going to end very..." 

There was a very stubble clink clink and then a horrible bang, and your face stung at the force you used to slap your hand over your mouth as a piece of shrapnel flew into your arm. 

A single shot signalled what you hoped was a fast end for Arin and you pressed yourself against the wall as Graves walked right under you. "These fuckers are a lot harder to kill than we thought. We gotta get back to the control room, I wanna reach out to our old friends." 

The warmth running down your arm caught your attention away as they left, and you ripped some of your shirt for a tourniquet to stem the bleeding so you could keep moving. After some thought, you realised your only option was the medical supply room, you could wire the door with your final grenade, then tip over the steel table and hide behind it. You keyed the radio one last time and hoped it would be good news. "Guys, what's happening?" 

It took a while for a response to come through. "Fucken hell y/n, we thought you were dead." Price's tone was a mix of anger and relief.

"What do you mean?" 

"We heard an all mighty fucking bang and then nothing." The radio must have jostled on when you climbed back up. "We're real close so is air support, you hold tight." 

You swallowed and took a deep breath. "Do you know what you're walking into?" 

"You bet your fucking ass we do. I've been in the mood to kill some tanks since Las Almas." You let out a little chuckle at Soap's reply. 

"Is Ghost there?" You didn't even want to think how he must be feeling. 

"I'm here." You could hear the ease in his voice and then gunshots ran over the radio. "You hear that love? I'm coming to get you." 

You took another deep breath. "I'll be with the cotton rounds." 

Price's orders mixed with the sound of approaching planes. "I'll be there." 

This time, their radio clicked first and you shook off the pain in your arm before continuing on your journey, the end was in sight. 

****

Graves knew he was losing, it was ending just like it started, in a flash so fast it made the sun envious, and this time, he knew he'd have to do more than just put on a show with a tank to get out. He rushed out of the control room with his radio in hand and made his way back to 141 dorms, if he couldn't find you, at least he could taunt Simon with the fact that he was looking for you. 

He threw open the door and marched down the hallway to the kitchen before switching his radio to the single he knew Ghost would be using. "Hello there Lt. Are you having a good day? Because I am." 

"Fuck you. You're a dead man Graves" 

Graves chuckled. "I don't know. I think I'm going to get my hands on your pretty little translator and then you'll just let me walk out. She's a killer now, did you know that? I'm looking at the body now." 

"Yeah? Maybe you'll be lucky and she'll do the same thing to you, that is if I don't get to you first." 

"Yeah, we'll see." 

Little did Graves know, Ghost was already in the base, having split off from the group when the assault started, Graves men were already dying at his hand as he made his way to the 141 dorms. 

Graves shut his radio up and stretched upwards, his eyes catching something on the ceiling as he went. He smiled to himself and followed his hunch, another tiny spot of red appearing above his head a few feet away. He followed the drops all the way to another supply closet, this one with "MEDICAL" pasted right in the middle. 

He knocked on the door like it was any other day and put as much Southern gentleman into his tone as he could. "Hello little mouse, it looks like I've finally found your hiding spot." 

Part 5

@chaos-4baby

[captain-mj]

I want this to be Price&Graves, idk how but yeah. What if Graves didn't want to betray the 141 but Shepherd was holding something over his head. Like what if Graves had a daughter and Shepherd was holding her as leverage. You don't gotta write the kid, I know you ain't interested in that, im far more interested in how you'd write the 141 finding it out from Graves and maybe possibly how they'd want to help when they learn (specifically Price)

I decided to do this for one reason and one reason only which you will find out at the end.

Graves survived.

Barely.

But he survived. And now he was tied up in front of the majority of the 141, in almost a mockery of what they had one previously to Valeria. The only real difference being that he kneeled in front of them.

Those had been fun times.

There was a click of a gun, pressed right at his left temple. Internally, he hummed to himself, though he didn't make a noise out loud. He didn't want to agitate them.

Price sat in front of him. "You betrayed us."

''I had no choice." Graves responded. "Absolutely none."

"And why is that?" Price used his boot to force Graves to look up.

"He had her." Graves saw Price's expression flicker. He had no clue what it meant, but it was there. "I call her Dumpling. She's only 2... He told me he'd kill her if I didn't do what he said..."

Price didn't soften, but Gaz did. "Dumpling?"

"I have a photo in my wallet."

Price looked at him for a moment before glancing at Soap, the one not holding the gun. "Grab it."

Soap rifled through his pockets and eventually did find the wallet. He flipped it open.

Graves knew the photo well.

Price took it and looked at the three people in the photo. Graves, a beautiful blond woman, and the small child she held. It must be recent as the child looked... approximately what he assumed a two year old to be. She was reaching for the dog in Graves's arms. The two adults in the picture were so close to each other.

Price swallowed down his feelings over that. The two men had slept together a few days before the betrayal, so seeing that he was married, or at least in a committed enough of a relationship to have a daughter, threw him for a loop.

He could add cheater to the list of his crimes.

"I see."

"She's my whole world. I couldn't let her die. You have to understand."

"You killed so many people."

"I know. I was told my orders."

"Shepherd called you a dog with a bone." Price leaned down. "That all you are? A fucking dog? You could've thought for yourself."

"He had her. He threatened her. I was scared of what he would do to her." Graves sounded so genuine, it was hard to not believe him.

Price stood up. He motioned to one of the soldiers. "Keep an eye on him."

Alejandro looked angry but slightly more understanding than he had been before. "Think he's telling the truth? Cute little kid."

Rodolfo did not seem as easily convinced, but he wasn't arguing. His jaw was clenched hard.

Ghost glared. "Soap. You're the one that got shot. What do you think?"

"It's his daughter. Might not like kids, but I can get that."

Gaz nodded. "Don't like him, but its his kid... I can't... imagine having something like that hanging over me."

Price noticed Ghost and Rodolfo exchanging glances, both clearly judging all of them. They stood down though and that's all he could ask for.

"Alright. Colonel. If you're willing to work with us again, I say we rescue his daughter and put all of this behind us."

Price ended up sitting with Graves that night. He didn't want to make someone from his team lose sleep over watching him. They would take over in the morning and he'd get some sleep.

Graves just... sat there. His face had tear tracks down the soot on his face. After a while, Price got something to clean his face. There was some burns on his shoulders and along his throat. Luckily nothing on his face so he didn't have to worry about any infections.

"Where did you get the cut on your face?"

"Cartel. Fighting against them after being paid. Slipped up. They slashed me and told me to go back to my leader and never return."

"Looks recent."

"It was. They didn't know I was the leader." He grinned a little. "Let me go because I look younger I guess."

"How... old are you?" Price sat with him, getting more comfortable. He left Graves on his knees though.

"35."

"Huh... Makes me feel better about sleeping with you."

"Worried you were robbing the cradle huh?" Graves did the half smile and Price noticed now that it was because it tugged the least at the wound across his cheek.

"A little. Good to know you're only two years younger." Price hummed. "Comfy?"

"Oh, I haven't felt me feet for hours. I'm pretty sure this is a stress position, ya know."

Price shook his head. "Maybe you deserve it."

"Yeah. Probably do." Graves hung his head, though it was clearly to get more comfortable, not out of shame.

Price ended up cutting him free. He didn't know why. It didn't like it was from empathy.

Graves's wrists were torn. The fresh burns had been rubbed against until they were bloody. Price cleaned those too.

"We're going to help you. We're going to get her back for you."

-two weeks later-

They received a call from Shepherd. Even through the phone, Price could feel the evil, the distain, rolling off of him.

"Hello."

"So I heard the Commander survived." Fuck. Must be a leak.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Tell him he tells you one goddamn word and I'm sending him the bitch's ears still bleeding."

Price froze, not expecting such out right hostility. Yes, Shepherd was evil, but cutting off a child's ear to prove a point... Jesus.

"This is cruel. Even for you."

There was a moment of silence before laughter. Almost hysterical. "You think this is cruel? After everything you've done?"

Price growled. "I did what I've done for the safety of all, not to start a war. And I've never held something like this over someone's head." He couldn't believe this.

Yes. Price had done cruel things. But to hang someone's child? Their daughter?? over their head? That was nothing like what he had done. He couldn't believe the hurt he had conflicted was being compared to wanting to harm an innocent child. A toddler.

Shepherd hung up but Price told Graves the threat. He thought for just a moment, from how pale Graves went, that he'd faint. Luckily, he did not. He just nodded solemnly.

"I'll tell you everything as long as you promise we can move fast."

-two more weeks-

They had done it. They were in the safehouse where Shepherd was keeping Graves's daughter.

In that time, Price would admit that the man had wriggled back into his good side. Along with most people's. It made sense. A man doesn't become Commander for no reason. He had charm. Charisma.

But that was not important. What was important was that they had not found Dumpling. He had wanted to ask for her real name, but honestly just hadn't gotten to it. No one else had seemed curious enough to ask.

Price searched every room, but he found no sign of a child. There was a child's bedroom but no sign of her. Or anyone really, besides the two dead hostiles that had been guarding it.

They all started to search and eventually, Alejandro let one of them people 'detaining' (it was babysitting, the man mostly read horror novels and watched football until they asked him questions) bring him along.

"Why?" Soap asked, genuinely curious.

"Sometimes kids tuck themselves into weird places. Thinking as her dad, he might be able to find her."

"You know a lot about kids?"

"I know almost nothing, but I'm pretty sure this is how they work."

Graves arrived after about thirty minutes, Price had been keeping him close by for... reasons. Totally not to admire him while pretending to interrogate him.

Price knew he shouldn't. Graves was married. With a kid. he still did it.

Graves didn't immediately go searching, which caused some alarms. Ghost already tightening his grip on his gun. Then, Graves whistled.

And there was Dumpling.

The DOG from the photo.

She yipped and spun in little circles despite having a clear and pronounced limp.

Graves scooped her up and started... fussing over her. It would've been endearing if Price wasn't so fucking mad that Dumpling was a FUCKING DOG.

"What the fuck." Ghost said, staring at the tiny squirming ball of fur.

"Dumpling!" Graves said happily, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe it was endearing even though he was mad. He touched her hurt leg. "Looks like the bastard may have dragged her around. Don't know why, she's a good dog."

"She's a dog."

"Yeah? I showed you guys a photo, how did none of you know she was a dog?"

"The child in the photos??" Alejandro spoke up.

"Is my niece and she's clearly 8 years old in those photos??" Graves frowned at them.

They all exchanged glances and Soap was the first to admit it. "Yeah I have no clue what children are supposed to look like."

"John. Seriously." Graves looked at Price.

"So that woman in the photos is...." Price completely ignored the kid thing. He had thought she looked a bit big for two, but maybe she was just in a higher percentile. How was he supposed to know?

"My sister. I'm gay. You all know I'm gay right??"

"I assumed you were bitchless honestly." Gaz quipped.

Graves stared directly into his eyes for a few minutes. Dumpling seemed to finally relax in his arms. "I fucked Price two days before betraying you guys." He turned around and left.

Everyone, very slowly, looked at Price.

"I also don't know what children look like."

More importantly, Graves was single. And came with a cute dog.