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normanbateswife · 8 months

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Window Cracked Open

Jeff the Killer x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: god where do i start, reader is clearly deranged in the sense that she finds love in fear (yes that was a jab at me), blood, a knife, jeff lighty threatening the reader, overall scary writing?, mentions of jeff being too skinny and unhuman, descriptions of jeffs scarring (let me know if i missed any!)

Author’s Note: i was trying to watch a romance show and it made me so deranged and sad that i wrote this because i feel more comfortable in fear than i do in love sometimes.

Summary: Literally no plot just Jeff showing up one night

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

He always came in without warning. His limbs sprawled out, always gangly and white. Even in the dark, there was something illuminating about them. Monstrous. They moved too slow, with too much precision. Predatory. You never would have guessed he was once a human. Despite the two arms and two legs, he always seemed something otherworldly. You never knew when he would show. Sometimes it would be months without so much as a peep. Sometimes he would be gone mere days, mumbling something about the cold, pretending he felt normal feelings.

The air coming through the window was chilly. It was crisp and comforting. Summer had finally started to dissipate. The sun had started to set sooner. The leaves started to turn. They fell to the ground, being run over by cars with the heater blasting. When the darkness fell over the night you could feel your muscles start to relax. The tenseness in your body rested when you got under warm blankets, a candle lit by your bedside.

It had been weeks. The sticky sweat of the summer had Jeff on the run. You never knew where he went when he was gone for long periods of time. It just made you antsy. Even after plenty of time, you could never go to sleep at peace. You left the window cracked open, always prepared for someone to come climbing in, something that looked like a monster under your bed.

You could have shut it. Locked it. Bought double locks or something, gone to the local hardware store and asked for better protection or cameras or something. It would put you at ease. Jeff would get the message.

But God, where’s the fun in that?

You were in between consciousness. You could still hear everything around you, make note of the normal noises as they came and went. The fan blowing, causing your curtains to slightly move. The sound of your clock, ticking. The familiar fabric moving with the wind from the window.

A creak on the window.

At first, you didn’t even open your eyes. You dismissed it as something in your dreams, something you could almost touch. The comforting feeling of sleep was about to overtake you and honestly, you were ready to let it. You could ignore something that echoed far away, nothing more than a simple abnormality.

Then a longer creak. Weight shifting on the sill.

You opened your eyes. It was dark. You had a little night light in the corner of your room by the door. You could see the edges of it from where you were laying. Your body stayed still. Listening. Waiting. You could see your digital clock on the bedside table. Nearing the witching hour.

Finally, there was a footstep on your carpet. You could barely hear it. If it wasn’t so quiet otherwise, you would never have noticed it.

You put your palm against your mattress. You used it to shift your weight, sitting up.

Jeff was standing by the window. You could see him only by his silhouette. Your eyes weren’t used to the darkness yet but you the gentle night light illuminated against his striking figure. All sharp. The connection between his limbs seemed stagnant. Holding themselves together only by the sheer need to. You recognized him by his familiar motifs.

There was a long moment of complete stillness. Jeff stood at the window. You could imagine his eyes scanning the room, feverishly taking in his surroundings, understanding each and everything you had changed since he had been there last. You sat on the bed, watching him, breathing shallowly. You recognized that this was like a still from a horror movie. You knew that the fear in your chest was only narrowly alarming. There should have been a flight or fight guard behind it. Instead it was just a fear that was welcomed. A feeling you understood, one that you knew well. It paralyzed you from anything else. God, it was a nice feeling.

Jeff moved. He walked towards your bed, putting both his palms on the comforter and crawling towards you. You could see more of his face as he moved, the night light flashing off his features in different ways.

His permanent Glasgow smile was stained with dried blood. You lifted your hand towards him, putting it on his cheek. He sat criss cross applesauce in front of you. You had brought your legs towards your body to make room. You wanted to clean the wound, an innate instinct. You wondered how many times you had cleaned it. How many times he just returned it to its idle state.

His eyes were wide. They always were. It showed no inclination of surprise, just a natural gaze.

“Why the frown sweetface?” His voice broke the silence. It literally felt like it shattered, waking you from some sort of trance. You hadn’t realized you were frowning. How could he see your expression at all? You could hardly see his.

“You're bleeding.”

“Always.” Your hand dragged down from his cheek. It brushed over his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing. Then onto his hoodie. It looked like it had once been white but was now stained. Dirt. Blood. Guts. You left your hand against his chest. If he had a heart, it would be there.

“Where have you been?” You wouldn’t get an answer you wanted. You asked anyway.

“Here, there. No where.” His voice was raspy. Almost playful. “Didja miss me?” His voice remained just above a whisper. You swallowed hard.

“Yes,” you said, honestly. He smiled, as much as he could. “Do you wanna get some clean clothes?” You couldn’t even think twice about how long he had been wearing this set.

“Sounds like a lotta work.” You half snorted.

“Couldn’t be any more work than killing someone.”

“That has an end result.”

“So does changing.”

“You better watch your tongue,” he threatened, though it felt fake. He took his knife out from an unidentified face, flashing it in your face. It glistened in the night light. “You could be the next one on the other end of my knife.”

“Is that a promise?” His version of a smile returned. You climbed off the bed, going towards your dresser. You had kept some things that looked mildly like Jeff’s size. You grabbed a different hoodie, a shirt and some slacks. He was watching you. You could feel it.

You turned back to him. Large eyes watched your movements.

You threw the clothes at him. He caught it, quickly, easily.

“Get dressed.”

“So demanding,” he muttered. He slid off the bed. His movements were always too easy. Too graceful.

He had no qualms of getting dressed right there. He tossed his things to the side and you watched, climbing back into the bed and leaning against the wall. You watched him. His slender body, white as a sheet, moved like a ghost. He was impossibly skinny. Always cold to the touch, like a corpse.

Once he had changed, he turned back to you.

“Happy?” he snarled.

“Very.”

He crawled back onto the bed. Jeff sprawled onto the comforter. He pretended it was his, that the warmth and the safety was something he could live in. He knew it wasn’t what he wanted. But it was something he could enjoy, in small doses.

“Do I get a space?”

“Sleep on the floor.” You scoffed. You shoved him aside, grabbing the top of the comforter and pulling it down. You climbed underneath it and he took the moment to also enjoy the warmth of the blankets. You faced him, cheek against your pillow. It was colder now that he had opened the window gap a little larger. You were going to get blood on your pillows. He likely wouldn’t be there when the sun rose. This would feel like nothing but a dream.

He grabbed your hip, pulling you closer. He was freezing. Cold blooded, you swore. After a gasp you stifled your emotion. His hair smudged over his face, the tips of it touching your skin. He had pulled you to his chest, his grip like iron.

Your eyes started to close. Sleep would come easily. You were still in the in-between of consciousness.

You could feel his lips (or lack thereof) against the top of your head. He buried his face into the pillow so that his nose would remain in your hair, breathing in your shampoo. You would wake up with blood on you more than likely, the feeling of his kisses leaving you before you could comprehend them. But you slept better with Jeff here then you did without him. All fear and anticipation dissipated. The knowing was far better than the unknown. You fell asleep in his arms, a crazy loopy reasoning in your head about the boy in your arms.

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normanbateswife · 8 months

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Sorry

Philip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: mw2 spoilers, spoilers for the new packs and online campaigns and things, (me knowing NOTHING about the military. I just be googling words. I am very sorry if they are wrong! I also didn’t play the online stuff so I had to read on that too. So much work for u philip), the reader leaving price and ghost behind technically, grief, heavy insinuation to smut, VIOLENCE like a lot. Reader kills people and has a mini extensional crisis about it, let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s Note: me: i’m so normal about him. Also me: writes a six thousand word fanfiction about my delusions

Summary: You and Phil had been together when he ‘died’ in the tank. You’ve been grieving him ever since, not knowing he was still out there.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When he was up in the air, sometimes Phil Graves thought about home. He thought about the way the air felt in the south. The heavy humidity of a late night around a fire with family and friends. His childhood home, a two story house with some land. The feeling of flannels over his shoulders, wind against his face when he rode the truck late at night, stupid country songs playing through the radio. He only let himself have these moments briefly. When he was up in the air and everyone was quiet with anticipation. No one wanted to talk about the moments before a descent, the seconds before disaster.

That was when he let himself think of home.

He thought of the world he used to call his own. He loved his job and he thought he was doing good with it. But sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened had he stayed back after high school, instead of hoping on the military like it was a moving train.

Whoever that was, he was gone now.

Shadow 0-1. Commander. That’s who he was now. That’s who he was always meant to be. That’s who he had been when he betrayed 141’s trust. That’s who he was when he got out of it. That’s who blew up in the tank in South America. That’s who misses you.

“You good boss?” Phil snapped out of his thoughts. He nodded once.

“Golden, Sparks. Thinking about dinner when we get back tonight.”

“You makin barbecue?”

“I sure am. Got a damn fine steak to cook.”

“You really oughta have more get-togethers, like old times.” Phil gave his subordinate a thin lipped smile. He fondly remembered the times when he would bring his closer soldiers around, cook for them, listen to shitty music, drink beers. In the back of his eyelids he could see you, handing him the tongs, making a joke about his dad barbeque. He would tease you about children.

He had stopped having them after the mission where he left some behind. He hadn’t wanted to; the strain in his voice was clear. But he had.

“Maybe when I’m legally back from the dead,” he countered. Sparks chuckled and Graves stood up. It was far better to be back in the commanding position with his guys, the same ones who would follow him into fire. It distracted him from the rest of it. The house he lost, the home he no longer had.

He had this.

You brushed your hair out of your face. You messed with the glass in your hand, rolling it around the ring on the wooden table. The ice had melted into the alcohol, making it watery and less effective. It was cold outside, fall finally taking hold. You were wearing a thin jacket that seemed useless.

This drink was Phil’s regular. You remembered it like the back of your hand, ordering it when he was caught up behind the crowds. It tasted like his lips after a long night out. It was warm, like his breath on your skin.

“You listinin’?” You lifted your head. You had been staring at your half drank glass. Simon Riley’s eyes met yours. They were objectively beautiful. You would never understand why he kept them mostly covered up.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought. What were you saying?”

“I was asking what you thought about Price going back out there so soon.”

“You of all people know what it’s like to be married to your work.”

“You aren’t irked he’s going without you?” His accent was thick. It was rare to get him to talk like this but you had known each other so long, it felt ormal now. He seemed unnatural when he clammed up in missions.

You shook your head.

“I’ll get back into it,” you told him. You cleared your throat. His eyes narrowed down, staring at you. His long face felt threatening, though you knew better. You stared back at him, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“How many times does Soap have to apologize for you to get over it?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head.

“Stuff it Simon.”

“I won’t. It’s been a year. We’ve given you your time, we’ve apologized, we’ve been nice and cordial about it. You need to realize who Graves was and that what happened to him was warranted. There’s only so many times we can spell it out for you before we stop babying you.” As he spoke, your head continued to shake. It felt like the words were rattling around in your brain, bouncing off your skull. He was right, you knew that. But the words still stung.

“You don’t understand,” you protested. He cut you off.

“I know I don’t. You’ve told me.” You leaned back in your chair, your glass landing with a light clang. “Love,” he muttered, leaning forward. “It’s time.”

You wished you could be done with it. You wished that his words could will all the pain to subside. You wished you didn’t have to suck it up when Soap followed Phil to the tank and blew it up. You wished you could forget about the moment you held your tongue, knowing that if you spoke up you would be a traitor too. You wished everything was different.

You didn’t want it to hurt anymore. You didn’t want to wake up and think he was next to you, even now. It got better as the time passed but it never fully went away. You knew it was never going to subside completely, always stuck to you like a stain you couldn’t get out.

“I’m trying,” you promised. “I’m trying.”

“You need to come to the next one.” Everytime you put on a headset you could hear Soap's words. Graves is KIA. How’s Price? He moved past it with such grace you almost missed it the first time.

“I’ll try.”

“You need to do more than that.” You swallowed hard.

“I know.” -

“I’m glad you’re here.” Price's voice was low but gentle. Careful. Like you were an object that would break if he spoke to you the wrong way.

“Me too,” you said, nodding. Your voice sounded fake and you knew it. You only agreed to this because you knew you had to. You had Price here and Ghost promised he would do all the heavy lifting. It would be nothing. The men you trusted would have your back when you flew out to enemy territory. “You didn’t have to lobby for me, you know.” You had become a liability the second Graves became a traitor. The already rocky relationship with the Shadows was broken clean in half. You were a problem now.

“I wanted to. You’re one of my best shooters.”

“Did Simon tell you to?”

“He gently nudged me.” He had his helmet on, the strap under his chin. It had been a while since you saw him in uniform.

“Where are we going again?”

“You should really read the debriefs.” You shrugged. You used to, religiously. You would tell Phil classified information like it was pillow talk. He would give it back to you after coffee in the morning. You cleared your throat.

“I do. I just trust you more than the papers,” you joked halfheartedly.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s all scouting, no shooting.”

“Why’re you bringing me and Ghost then?”

“I like hanging out with you guys.” You laughed, this time for real. He gestured forward. “Let’s head out.”

You could only see the blocks of land below you in the plane. You wondered who was living in the little houses the size of dots. You wondered if they were happy. You could feel the sweat piling in your uniform.

“There’s some guns held in a storage facility. They shouldn’t be heavily guarded but will be servilenced,” Price said. He spoke above the noise in the plane, loud and rumbling. “Ghost, you’ll go ahead. I’ll be down there outside the building, watching your six. Y/L/N, you’re up here on guns.”

“It’s boring up here,” you complained. “Can’t I come with you guys?”

“We need you on your A game to be on the ground,” Ghost said, coldly. You gave him a look but couldn’t read his expression with the mask. Price was avoiding your eyeline on purpose, you could feel it. It almost felt like a fake mission, something to get you back out there without putting you in real danger. Though you were vaguely insulted, it was nice to know they cared. You tried to shove your feelings aside.

“Alright,” you said finally. “Fine.”

“You’re good on guns,” Price said. “An Eagle eye will ensure everyone's safety.”

“I already said alright Price,” you said as gently as you could manage. The plane started to slow down to a hover. Price stood up, using the railing above to steady himself.

“You ready?” Simon questioned, coming up behind you as you stood up. You nodded once. Muscle memory would kick in before your panic would. Everything would be fine.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

Ghost gave you one last pat on the back before he walked towards the back of the plane. You watched him go, his hand on his side, looped around his belt. Price followed behind. He turned back to look at you, the wind rushing towards the front. You tried to keep your face neutral, professional. Your bones ached with familiarity. This was okay. This would be okay.

You turned towards the guns. The plane had a designated corner for them, buttons lining the walls. You zoomed in on the house that was holding the guns, turning it to infrared. You sat down at the chair, leaning over it. You didn’t need to put on all your gear to push some buttons but you refrained from complaining.

“You hear me clear up there?” Ghost’s voice came through your ear piece.

“Yes sir. Loud and clear.” You could see Ghost’s little figure as he landed. “I’m seeing two hostels outside of the building. On either side of the doors, they both have guns.” “Roger,” Ghost said. You followed his heat signature. Price had also made his way to the ground.

“What’s the house looking like?” he asked. You moved your camera along, narrowing in on the building. You could see men walking. Patrolling. You couldn’t help but wonder how many guns were being held there. The building was larger than Price made it seem. Were they in the heart of the building, with the clump of men?

“Lots,” you admitted.

“Give me a ballpark,” Price responded. You could see Ghost down there, taking out the men. He was always quick with it. Sometimes you forgot that the man you shared drinks with was a cold blooded murderer. You would not want to be at the other end of his knife.

“Ten upstairs. Can’t tell how many downstairs. Probably 20?”

“That’s quite a few people for some guns,” Ghost chimed in.

“No kidding,” you muttered. “I can see some on the balcony. I’m ready to hit whenever Cap.”

“Roger,” Price responded. You went to hone in, aiming just in case Ghost needed back up quicker than you could aim.

The plane jerked right, causing you to lose focus. You cursed, shutting one eye to get a clearer view. You painlessly lined it back up. Just as you had it, the plane jerked again.

“Hey man!” you called to the front. “Steady!”

“You seein this?” the pilot called. You turned back towards the infrared. Ghost hadn’t made it inside yet. You got out of your chair and pushed aside the door to the cockpit. Through the large window you could see another plane making its way towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How could someone know you were here?

“Enemy plane?” you asked.

“Not on any paths,” he admitted. “I’m willing to bet.” You quickly pivoted back towards the infrared.

“Hey boys, we got some company up here.”

“We need to secure this area,” Price said. His voice had gone rough. Professional now.

“If they’ve got more men, we aren’t securing shit,” you told him.

“I’m going through the downstairs,” Ghost added. With his voice you could hear gunshots and commotion. You cursed and sat back down.

“Do I have permission to shoot Price?”

“Yes,” he responded, quickly. You pushed down on the trigger, taking out the men on the balcony. They fell with ease. You looked back towards the cockpit. The plane was only getting closer. You could hear the pilot trying to contact it, like it was a civilian plane. The menacing figure loomed in the air.

“How much longer?” you asked.

“Five minutes,” Ghost responded.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “We don’t have five minutes.”

“Make five minutes.” You stood back up and went back to the cockpit. You put your hand on the chairs.

“It’s an AC-130,” the pilot called. “Military.”

“I’m going down,” you yelled. “Get me down there.” There was little protest from the pilot. You grabbed your gun off the chair. The back hatch lowered. The wind rushed towards you. The air was threatening with how fast it blew. It was like the whole world was going to be sucked into the plane.

You took a deep breath. Life or death. Your friends would die if you didn’t do something.

You turned back towards your safe spot in the plane. It looked more dangerous by the second. Each moment you hesitated was a moment wasted.

You turned back towards the entrance. You grabbed the leftover parachute and buckled it tightly.

And you jumped.

There was a moment of sheer panic. You forgot the reason you were in the air, you just knew you were freefalling. You were rushing towards the hard ground, towards the sound of gunfire. Everything felt fake for about ten seconds.

Then you pulled on the parachute line and drifted towards the ground.

“What’re you doing down here?!” Ghost said in your ear. You wondered if he could see you through the window.

“Helping!” you called back. Price was right. You were one of his best shooters, handicapped or not. You rushed forward, shielding yourself with a large rock. You looked down at the gun, the familiar feeling in your hand. You took a deep breath, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready. Then you turned around and started to shoot.

There was so much going on that it was almost simple. You couldn't focus on one thing so you tried to just breathe. Each shot was a breath. You didn’t think about how that was a person's life. Each shot a family member, a father, a sister. You forgot all of that as you focused on your breathing and your aiming.

“They’re deploying from the plane!” Price said in your ear. You still had no idea where he had gone.

“We should call for backup!” you said back. “Gaz’ll be here in twenty minutes!”

“Soap is closer,” Ghost said. He was in the house. You could tell by the amount of silence around him. He must have cleared the floor.

“Call someone!” you yelled. Price’s voice started to drone on but you didn’t pay much attention. You moved closer to the house, sticking close to cover. Blood was smearing your clothes now. How many people were here? How many people would come?

You looked up at the enemy plane. There had been a constant train of people but now they were slowly diminishing.

You came to a startled stop beside a body that had landed next to cover. You reloaded, your back against the wood, your eyes looking towards the body without thinking. Your head snapped back up but when it registered something familiar, it looked back at the body.

You kneeled all the way down. Your fingers brushed a Shadows patch, engraved on the lifeless soldiers' clothing. Your head started to blur. You hadn’t seen that symbol in months. Its patchwork was now smeared with blood, likely your doing. You ripped off the soldier's helmet.

You recognized him.

Sparks. He had come over for a barbecue. He helped Phil cook. The taste of brisket hit your tongue. The smell of a campfire.

You scampered onto the ground, almost falling over to get away from him. The sounds of gunfire started to muffle. Your breathing grew ragged. Was someone speaking? You held your gun tightly, like it was the only thing holding you to the ground. Was that Price’s voice? You looked around, the sun suddenly blaring. You should’ve come at night. There were clouds. How dare there be clouds when people were dying? You wanted Simon. You wanted Phil.

Someone came around your cover. You raised your gun, a fumble really. You raised it to the soldier in front of you, finger on the trigger, fully intending to shoot. The man in front of you had halted completely. His gun stayed on you, capable of killing you easily, but it remained. He had a helmet on. The glare of the sun covered his face.

Your hands were still shaking.

Suddenly things felt very quiet. A subtle movement of the soldier revealed a glimpse of his face. A face you knew very well.

It all flashed in your mind. His morning snoring, the shitty dad jokes, his guttural laughter. The sound of his truck starting. His mom’s phone number. The first thing you bought for your shared apartment. The taste of his lips. The feeling of his hands on your skin. HIs eyes in the moonlight. The feeling that you could never shake when he died.

He turned and ran. You stood up. You gathered your bearings and followed him, almost slipping on yourself to do so. He couldn’t get very far. People were shooting at you but you had him as a cover. You shoved him down and disarmed him. It usually wouldn’t have been easy to do. Maybe he let it happen. You pulled his collar so you could land behind a discarded car. He struggled against you as you ripped off his helmet completely, disconnecting whatever comm he was using.

His hands reached forward for yours and he took it off, not even bothering to unbuckle your chin strap. His touch felt like a ghosts. The same calloused hands that promised you the world. Your eyebrows furrowed, recognition in your eyes. You reached forward, not thinking. You cupped his face, your fingers sprawled on his cheek and neck.

“Phil?” you whispered. He couldn’t hear you over the commotion but he could read your lips. He knew what his name looked like coming from your mouth.

He didn’t know you were going to be here. If he had, he never would have come. He can’t do this, he can’t blow his cover like this. He had been told maybe Price would make an appearance but you had been out of the field since his death. He was breathing heavily. He couldn’t come near you because he would cave. It was hard enough being without you, checking his phone like you would text him.

“Y/L/N?! Y/N!” Your comm was going insane. It was on the ground though, forgotten.

He was alive. Philip was alive. His face was there and it was moving, all flesh and blood. You never thought you would see him again except in pictures and videos, ones where you had memorized all his movements.

“Philip Graves?”

“Yeah baby. Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like he was in disbelief too. You fought the tears rising to your eyes.

“How..how are you here?”

“Long story. “

“I wanna hear it.”

“Your men are shooting my men right now,” he said, like it was a minor inconvenience.

You snapped back into reality. Suddenly all the sounds became crystal clear again. Time resumed. You grabbed your comm and put it to your ear.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” you said.

“Come back with me,” Phil said quickly.

“What?” He grabbed your comm, putting it in his back pocket.. You reached for it like a child, even letting out a gentle unintentional whimper.

“Come back with me,” he repeated. “Get in my plane.”

“You’re dead. You died in a tank in South America!”

“You should know MacTavish couldn’t take me out.” He cupped your face with both his hands. You had never felt something so good. “Quickly. Yes or no.”

He dreaded a no. He knew Shepherd would have you killed or kidnapped. You couldn’t go back to your friends, knowing what you now knew. They could come up with a retaliation before Graves had even gotten on his feet again.

You had been waiting months for him to come back to you. The answer, despite your morals and your stress, seemed to slip off your tongue easily.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go with you.” He smiled, a genuine smile, covered in dirt and grime.

“C’mon baby. Follow me.” He put his comm back in his ear and grabbed your hand. He held it tightly, like you would slip away. “I’m going back up. How’re we lookin?”

“Significant casualties. The shooter on the edge is killing us.”

“I got her,” he responded. He looked back towards you and you both stood up. He nodded towards the plane, which still had the latter hanging down. “The guns?”

“The house is being defended. We haven’t been able to break through.”

“We can’t afford to lose those. Do what you have to.” He held your hand tightly, dragging you through the battlefield. You passed those that had died in the rubble. You wondered if you had been the cause. Your head was spinning, looking towards the house. You couldn’t even think yet, things were going so fast. All you knew was Phil and his hand in yours.

He grabbed your hips, helping you onto the first step of the ladder.

“I’m comin back up,” he said into his comm. “Someones ahead of me, foreign. Do not shoot. I repeat, do not shoot.” There was a muffled reply. He climbed all the way to the top with you, helping you up onto the plane floor. You pulled yourself up and stood in the middle of the hanger. There was barely anyone left up there. You looked towards the window.

Price. Simon.

You had left them. You hadnt’ meant to. You hadn’t even thought for longer than a moment about it. You put your hand flush against the glass, looking down. You wanted them to make it out okay. They would surely think you had died.

You hadn’t thought this through.

Your favorite ghost had returned and asked you to go to hell with him. You hadn’t even thought.

“Price. Ghost,” you said, quickly. You turned to Graves, panicked. “Let them go. Don’t hurt them.”

“I need those guns.” You had heard his work voice before, the slur between charming and serious. At that moment, his voice was all game. He was giving you an order.

“I need them to live.”

“They shouldn’t have come.”

“I came.” Phil pursed his lips, chewed the inside of his cheek. He looked towards the pilot and the men still in the plane. Your eyes were back out the front window, seeing the plane you had just come out of. You had just been there, standing in that cockpit. The feeling was eerie, tingling in the back of your neck. “Phil please.”

Graves thought for a moment. He looked towards you, your pleading puppy dog eyes. He could see you in the morning, when he said goodbye before work. He could see your back in the bathroom mirror, foggy from a shower. Your favorite cereal on his taste buds. The way you had your coffee.

“We’re losing numbers down here!” a voice came in his ear. He looked back down towards the house. Ghost was taking his men out one by one. Price was likely sneaking behind them, sniping from somewhere.

But Phil was a proud man. He wasn’t going to let those people die for no reason.

“Those men are dead down there,” he said, evenly. He approached you. His hand gripped your arm. “They can’t have died for nothing.”

“Let me call them off. Give me something to call them off,” you pleaded. He groaned in retaliation but gave you your comm back. You put it in your ear.

“I’m getting overwhelmed here!” Ghost exclaimed.

“Get out of there! Get out of there!” you said, desperately. You turned back to the window. “There’s too many of them. They keep coming.”

“She’s right,” Price said, voice gruff. “We need an exit. Soap is on his way.”

“To help?”

“Not enough manpower right now. We have to take this loss.” You could practically hear Ghost’s annoyance. He had done all this and it would’ve been for nothing? He groaned. You stood there, deathly still. “Get to the southside of the building,” Price demanded. “Both of you.” You looked back at Phil, who was staring eagerly. You nodded once. He patted your back, turning back to the pilot.

“Set up post.”

Some men made their way back up to the plane. Others stayed down below to hold down the fort. The ones you recognized starred as they passed you, sitting in the front seat, just behind Graves. He made no comment on you being there. Didn’t talk on the way back to base.

He knew he would have to face Shepherd about it. He just happened to figure he would win. Shepherd couldn't do shit with the Shadows until Graves got back. He was useful and he was a good soldier. Breaking this rule would be okay, he was sure of it.

You followed him onto the tarmac, your body close to him. The plane landed unceremoniously. People gently spoke about their win. Most mourned their losses. No one had managed to get it in their head that you had probably killed their best friend. Most everyone just ogled you in confusion.

“We’re going back to my room,” he explained. You wanted an explanation. You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream.

“Okay.”

He led you through the twisting turns of the facility. You had never been in the Shadows main buildings before. They were high tech and likely dangerous.

Graves opened the door to his room. It was larger than the others, for being the Commander. He didn’t have to sleep in bunks or share a room when he was on base. He had called you from this room dozens of times. The phone he used had been crushed, unable to receive anything. He missed it. It had all the pictures of the two of you.

The door clicked shut behind you. You wanted to fight him but in the moment, you could only melt. You wrapped your arms around him and he held onto you for dear life. His touch was fiery and aggressive. He was digging his fingers into your sides, breathing in the scent of your hair. He had missed you so much. More than he had been able to let on. He never wanted to live without you again.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered. You hadn’t realized the tears had steadily made their way back until you felt them on your cheeks. Graves had his face buried deep into your neck. “I mourned you.”

“I know baby,” he muttered against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He was crying. When was the last time you had seen him cry? He sniffled, though he tried to make it subtle. He pulled back, turning away to rub his eyes. You grabbed his shoulders, not letting him.

“What happened?” you asked quietly. Speaking any louder than a whisper seemed like a crime.

“Shepherd.”

“You weren’t in the tank?” He shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief, despite the horrors you had been through over the months you had believed he was in there. He grabbed your hand.

“I never wanted to leave you,” he promised. His eyes were red, stuffy. He wasn’t sobbing but there were clearly tears forcing their way through his hard exterior. “I did it because I thought it would keep you safe. It would keep you out of the way.”

“You’ve just been out there?” you asked, voice hinting of betrayal. It broke his heart.

“Missing you every second of every day.”

“Did you know where I was?”

“I wasn’t allowed on missions with you confirmed to be in it. It was supposed to be Price, maybe Ghost, maybe Soap today. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“I was a last minute addition.”

“And thank God for that.” His hands were staying on you, lingering. “Bringing you back was selfish,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t leave you again.”

“When they told me you were dead,” you started, swallowing your emotions. “I couldn’t eat for a week. Simon had to come force me. I had to pack up all your clothes in the closet, give them to your mother. I had to go to your funeral, the funeral of a federal traitor. I had to see the man who killed you everyday in the hallway,” you spilled. Your voice felt fluid. “I had to..I had to tell Price I was getting better when I wasn’t. I had your drink every time I went to the bar. I haven’t had barbeque in months. I had to go on shitty first dates with people Soap set me up with. I slept in your flannel. I..all my plants died.”

Phil’s voice was quiet. He was pleading, lips wet.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried to grab your hands. Ground you. You let him. You stared at him, breathing heavily, reliving every moment you had without him. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t…I can’t do that again.”

“Me neither. Trust me.” You both were still covered in blood and dirt. You could feel the grime between your fingers. You could see the muck on his face, his perfect face. You put your hand on his cheek.

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I swear to God,” he whispered.

And you kissed him.

And things had never felt so right.

His lips were frenzied, desperate. He had never tasted something so good in his life. You were all he had been craving, every moment of every day. His hands were practically shaking as he touched you. Long lost was his Commander front. He was just Phil.

You hadn’t been so desperate for him since you first had him. Your anguish pushed forward onto his skin, holding him as close as you could get him. He tasted like beer and cologne and dirt.

Phil turned you on your heels so he could sit down on the bed. You straddled him, hands cupping his face, running through his hair. You were both too bulky for this kind of making out. You hadn’t stripped of any gear, still wearing weapons of mass destruction. You pulled away, to verbalize this, but he spoke first.

“Baby I need you. I need you,” he breathed. He kissed you chastly. “Please don’t stop.”

He used to hold back his pleading. He thought it made him look weak in front of you, unattractive. But he couldn’t do it now, when his defenses had been long shattered.

“We need to take all this off,” you said. You looked down into his eyes. They were so beautiful and needy that it hurt your chest. You kissed his lips again, as a promise. “We gotta take off the grenades at least.” He chuckled. He had forgotten all about that. You brushed his hair back, out of his face. “Phil,” you muttered. “Philip Graves,” you mumbled, a borderline moan. He groaned in need.

“Quickly. Quicker than that.” You laughed. It was the first time you had heard your laugh in months. It was genuine and filled with life. It felt good. You slid off him and started to strip.

He studied you with such intense eyes it felt like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

You almost couldn’t fall asleep. You traced his features with your gaze, even with his closed eyes. The scar on his cheek. You traced it lightly with your finger. His hair was still wet from the shower. You had both slipped and slid around the bathroom, limbs remaining intertwined. He had made it a point to always be starring or always be touching. You were his. You would never be anyone else's.

He had an arm lazily around your side. You had so much to worry about, so much to do. Were you technically behind enemy lines? What would happen when you woke up in the morning?

Philip groaned and pulled you closer, smushing you against his chest.

“Woah there cowboy,” you whispered. He smiled, eyes still closed.

“You remember when you used to take my hat?” he asked fondly. You did. The cowboy hat rule. If you wear his hat, you ride the cowboy. You giggled, nodding against the pillow.

“I do.”

“We should do that again.”

“We can do whatever you want,” you told him. “Whatever you want.” He nodded.

“Go to sleep. I’ll figure it out in the mornin.” He put his chin on your head. “I got you.” You believed him.

You hadn’t had such a good sleep since he died, exhaustion over taking your body and forcing you into darkness.

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

the warehouse aftermath

mark hoffman x reader

warnings: typical canon violance, saw five spoilers, plotless comfort

The silence was the worst of it. You could feel yourself needing to speak to comfort yourself. The situation seemed neverending. How long would you be stuck in this loop created by a man who knows nothing but pain. A man you had never agreed with but had gotten your boyfriend in his grips and wouldn’t let him go. It felt deafening. It felt like being cold and suddenly very warm, like a relief that you know was ill conceiving.

You watched the warehouse with intense eyes. He had run you through it. He had told you exactly what would happen, over and over again. You enjoyed seeing him sober but it felt like he was drunk in some other vice. He was not doing this alone. He was creating half of his life with you and the other half with some shrouded mystery. Something you understood only portions of.

“You got here fast,” you heard someone say beside you. You turned, removing your thumb from your mouth. You had been chewing at your nails anxiously, picking at the loose keratin. You recognized the face in front of you only abstractly. You knew you had seen him but you were aware of the fact that you never bothered to learn his name. Maybe you had seen him in passing on the way to Mark’s office. Maybe you had seen his picture on the wall of decorated officers.

“I have a scanner in the house,” you said, voice more confident then you felt. Your eyes remained on the warehouse but you could feel the man looking at you. You turned to glance at him. He must have been aware of your relation with the hostage. With the kidnapper. “He didn’t answer my call. I went looking.”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” the man said, lying through his teeth. This was Jigsaw. Jigsaw. How could he even have the heart to lie to you right then? Your distaste must have shown on your face as you moved a step forward, watching the doors.

Finally it opened, crashing, loudly. You welcomed the break in the silence of your mind. You recognized the face of the man, despite a little girl half blocking it. He was gripping her tightly, the fear on his features half sincere. You wished you could question anything except your own relief. You pushed through the crowd and right past the man who took the little girl out of Mark’s arms.

“What the hell man? What happened?” the man asked, a man you recognized but another you didn’t know the name of. “Where’s Riggs?”

“I tried to help,” Mark said as you walked up. “He didn’t make it. Nobody made it.” The officer turned to grab a shock blanket for him and you wasted no time in throwing yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease, almost giving up his composure of fear. The relief of having you in his arms was genuine. It was over. It was over now.

You didn’t speak, scared that whatever you would say would give information you didn’t mean to. He shamelessly buried his face in your neck.

“Made it,” he grumbled against your skin. You could feel each breath reach your lungs. You could feel how cool it was, suddenly realizing just how icy the night was. You could think again. You could process information again.

“We got a live one!” A blanket was shoved onto Mark as you pulled away in surprise. You both turned around, eager to see the survivor. Peter Strahm was on a gourney but he was alive, breathing, barely. A loose end. You glanced at Mark’s face. He was even keeled, too even. He needed to have more reaction.

You put your hand on his shoulder. He looked back to you.

“Let’s get you checked up,” you said, gently. He nodded once and realized his slip up as you spoke. He followed you, staying close. There was press here now, taking pictures, their bulbs flashing in your face like a mockery of your emotions. Someone sat him on the back of an ambulance.

“I don’t need to go. I’m fine,” he said, more to the pushy nurses crowding him than to you. You knew that wasn’t true if things had gone how he planned them. Hours of sitting next to a dying man, gagged, tied, near death if one thing went wrong.

“You need to go,” you argued. He looked up at you. You weren’t used to being higher than him but as he sat you were now subject to his gaze. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to bed. “Let them take your vitals, make sure nothing is broken. All I have at home is a first aid kit and a high school health class,” you said gently. He smiled a bit, in exhaustion.

The paramedics waited anxiously around you.

Mark nodded, halfheartedly.

The pounced, holding up stethoscopes and taking the blanket off his shoulders. You took a step back, watching everything unfold. You searched for the little girl in the crowd but didn’t find her. Strahm was gone already. They had rushed him away.

What was his trap?

They blended together in your mind after a while.

The water box, you recalled. You looked back at Hoffman who looked distant in his own failures. You looked at his hands through the paramedics, hands that had set someone up to die so many times. The cold ate at your skin. You move aside for a few moments, to allow for some space.

“Hey.” You were looking away when he spoke. You breathed evenly as you fought back through the small crowd. “Can we go home now?” You looked around at the paramedics. They looked sympathetic but not worried. That made you feel better.

“He’ll live. To be safe he should come in, in case there’s anything internal we can’t account for,” one of them said. You looked back to Mark who had pleading eyes. You weren’t worried he would create an internal injury himself.

“I’ll monitor him like a hawk,” you promised evenly. You put your hand on his elbow, helping him stand, not that he needed it. His button up was soaked with sweat. It was drenched in the dry blood of others.

You were walking together, slowly, to where you had parked your car. Hoffman was quiet until the doors were shut and you were both inside the silence once more. This time you were together.

“Strahm,” he grumbled, putting his hand to his forehead. “Fucking Strahm.” He hit the dashboard and you tried not to jump. You were pulling away already, in hopes no one would see the outburst. “I locked him in there. There was no way he could-”

“Let’s not worry about that right now. They don’t know if he’ll live through the night and I doubt he knew or saw enough to puzzle piece things together.”

“Do you always have to be the voice of reason?” he questioned, though his voice wasn’t with a tinge of anger. He was tired. You had observed that plenty of times in the few minutes he had been back to you. You needed to get home.

“Yes,” you answered, after a long bout of silence.

The home you shared with Mark Hoffman was nice, though it wasn’t fancy. It was a home. It was just his to start. It was clear now, that it was a home of two. Your things melded together. You had nothing of your own. Mark was protective and all consuming.

It wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t mind.

You turned the lights on as he walked in front of you. You hadn’t grabbed anything in your desperate attempt to leave the house for the warehouse. All you needed to drop was your keys and your shoes. The air inside felt stagnant, unlived in. How often were the two of you even here at the same time? At night? When your breathing was even and you were unable to revive the air?

He discarded his clothes as he walked. The door of the bedroom opened and you followed, wordlessly, silently. The master bathroom door creaked as he pushed through it. You weren’t going to push or say anything but regardless he stopped in the archway. He had lost the once white button up already. You observed his silence. He was looking down, not directly down, but just away.

You were opening the dresser drawer. He walked back to you and breathed heavily through his nose as he engulfed you in his arms. Your arms were folded up to hold his back, palms down against his skin.

You recognized his breath. Deep. Slow. He was coming down and you weren’t even sure what he was coming down from. You closed your eyes, just happy to have him here again. You could be content with this right now. There was so much to be discussed but there had been enough worry for one day.

“Go clean up before you go to bed,” you muttered against his chest. He didn’t speak immediately, nor did he move.

“I’ve been tied up all day,” he grumbled. “Just let me stand here.” You smiled.

“Mkay,” you hummed. You could feel the heat emanating off of him. You started to recognize the traits. The adrenaline in the thumb of his fingers, the fear in the tightness of his grip, and the accomplishment in a job done.

You waited, quietly, for a couple moments before kissing his collarbone. You left your lips there, chastly trailing kisses.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he whispered, his voice gravelly. He pulled away finally to look at you. He held you in his arms.

“You all sleepy Hoffman? What, did the attempted murder really wipe you out?” You leaned forward to kiss him before he could laugh but when you pulled away he was smiling. “Take a shower Lieutenant.”

He hummed but it sounded more like a guttural type growl as you moved away from him.

You wanted him to go to sleep so you could rest. You saw his phone on the nightstand. Had he even taken it with him today? There would likely be phone calls waking you both up in the morning, Texts from superiors, asking for a statement. You wouldn’t know peace for a couple of weeks. He would get his promotion. There would be questions from Strahm, never ending correct accusations. Newspapers asking for a quote. He would come home later.

“You stay where you are,” he said, quietly, tiredly.

“I’ll be here when you get out,” you promised. He watched you for a moment, trying to memorize you and then he shut the bathroom door behind him. You started to fish for your own pajamas.

He came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later. His hair was soaked, matted down onto his head. You were in bed, only the lamp beside you was still on. He crawled under the comforter beside you. He wore only his boxers, limbs aching from the stress of the day.

You faced him, cozying into the pillow.

He pulled you closer to him, till you were practically in his chest. You threw an arm around him. He liked having what he needed protected. You let your eyes close slowly.

“I love you Mark,” you muttered, brain already hazy. He kissed your forehead and you thought he whispered it back before you fell into unconsciousness.

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x fem!reader #mark hoffman imagines #saw imagines

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

deleted the aemond fic cause I was sick of people commenting mean stuff fyi

#rip cold bath water fr! you were a banger!

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

Ally

Victor Vale x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: technically kidnapping ig lol

Author’s Note: i hope you enjoy love <33 i had some fun banter with this one <3

Requested: by anon, Hi. I saw u had a victor vale fic so will you be willing to write another? Possibly Victor Vale x FemReader. Eli is a killer at this point and is trying to kill the reader but Victor is trying to find her first. He also has a crush on her and tries to get her to come with him but she refuses so he kidnaps her for safety (not yandere just panic). Later he explains why he did so and she's fine with it. She joins the little family and he begins to love her more. Idk about the end Tysm! ily writing!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You remembered college fondly. You remembered the late nights with a bitter distaste in your mouth. You remembered the way Eli’s eyes looked when he had been studying nonstop for a week. You remembered Victor’s coffee order and test day sweatpants. You remembered the shitty dinners and you remembered the feeling of dying when it was inflicted on you by your friends. You remembered what it felt like to wake up again, like the breath inside you was so new it stung.

You remembered the look in Victor’s eyes when he told you he had killed Angie. You remembered the last time you saw Eli before he lost whatever emotion he had. If the three of you hadn’t been drowning in the idea of a life between deaths then you wouldn’t have been stuck like you were now. You would have had a normal college experience. You would’ve been able to stay friends with the guys.

You could’ve lost touch after college but remembered your friendship fondly, just like everyone else.

Instead you were stuck with this torment. The powers you gained from your death were considered lethal to Eliot Cardale. Now you were stuck with trying to escape him until someone caught him.

Victor looked across the crowded street. He was sitting down at a small round table by himself, nursing a cold cup of coffee. He recognized the color of your hair even from far away. He hadn’t seen you since the day he had been arrested. You and Eli had scampered your separate ways the second you realized of each other's intentions. Victor couldn’t blame you.

He blamed Eli enough for the both of you.

You were gently picking up some fruit from the local vendors. You had on a large pair of Jackie O sunglasses that you seemed to believe was hiding your identity. Victor would recognize the purse of your lips anywhere. He used to adore you in a way that a college boy could. From arms distance so he never messed things up with you. He used to think you would marry Eli one day. He never thought he would be chasing after you quite like this.

You turned your head his way and he stood up. There was no use trying to hide it now. He stood up swiftly, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. Your eyes searched, as though you were looking for him specifically. Your eyes eventually landed on him as he made his way towards you. The surprise on your face was priceless. Your face eased into a startled expression as you held the fruit to your chest.

But you didn’t move. You waited until he reached you. You hadn’t seen Victor in years. There were lines on his face you didn’t recognize. His hair had grown and he had a slight look of death about him. Underneath it, he remained the same Victor. You could tell by his eyes.

“Victor Vale,” you breathed. He smiled slyly, almost a smirk.

“In the flesh.”

“The very pale flesh. You look like a ghost Victor.”

“Did I spook you?”

“Frankly? Yes.” You gently put the fruit down in the basket you had found it. You removed your sunglasses, folding them up and holding them in your hands. “I would say it’s a surprise to run into you but I imagine you were looking for me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“What do you want Victor?” Now that he could see your eyes, unshaded by the sunglasses, he was struck with a heartstring he had long forgotten. A feeling tingled in his fingers. Schoolboy crush.

“Eli is looking for you,” he stated simply.

“I’m evading him quite well I think.”

“Not well enough. I found you.”

“Well I’ve never hidden from you Victor.” You smiled gently and gestured to the sidewalk. He followed you as you began to stroll. He kept a step behind you, allowing you to lead the way. “You still haven’t explained what you’re here for.”

“You need to come with me.”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Eli will find you and when he does, he’ll kill you.” It was a promise, not a warning. You both knew what Eli was capable of. “We’re safer together.” You shook your head a bit.

“I hear he’s looking more aggressively for you. I don’t think I’m on his radar.” “You never left his radar. Or mine for that matter.”

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“I’ve always liked a man on his knees.” You glanced up at him as you walked. He had a much too serious look on his face. “Victor. You can’t just waltz into my life again and expect me to leave with you.”

“I can.” You stopped walking. There was a silence between the two of you. “Do you remember what it feels like to have my power used on you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” There was a tension between the two of you. It wasn’t nearly loving enough. You could feel the hostility. He needed you on his side and he was about ready to do anything to do it.

“You can’t go to him,” he whispered. His voice was quiet in the wind of people around the two of you. It felt intimate.

“I don’t plan to.”

You were going to speak again when you suddenly began to feel faint. You blinked a couple of times, mouth still open as you searched to regan the muscles to use it. You stumbled forward. He grabbed you, clutching your arms. You fell asleep in his arms.

You woke up to a warm blanket being placed around you. Your eyes refused to open for a moment. You were engulfed in a warm blackness. It was peaceful for a few moments. Then your eyes opened and you remembered the panic you felt before you were asleep.

You were in some sort of hotel room. There was a blonde girl at the edge of your bed that you didn’t notice and a dog at her side. Your breathing grew heavy. You had a feeling this girl had neared death, just as you had.

“She’s awake,” the girl said. Her voice was quaint. It seemed like you were in some sort of hotel room. You gripped the blankets around you tightly as a tall man you didn’t recognize walked into the room from the adjoined one. Behind him was Victor.

“Victor? What the fu-”

“I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t come with, no matter how hard I tried to convince you.”

“I told you not to knock her out,” the little girl said.

“Sydney, not the time.” The girl, Sydney, looked positively pleased with herself. “Can I speak to her alone?” he questioned. Sydney and the tall man slowly left the room, her dog following at her footsteps. Your breathing hadn’t evened down. You were still heaving.

“Victor-”

“I panicked,” he admitted. “Don’t make me say it again.” He looked slightly embarrassed which gave you more power in the situation. You pursed your lips and let go of the blanket on top of you. Your knuckles had turned white. He could tell your guard was still up and he couldn’t blame you. He had kidnapped you, for lack of a better word.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe I can’t,” he said, snarkily.

“You can’t just kidnap girls you had a crush on in college Victor.”

“Who says I had a crush on you?” “Eli.”

“He’s a murderer. You can’t believe a word he says.” Despite the odds, you smiled a bit. You had missed Victor. Though you had things you had to return to, you understood why he had knocked you out. You weren’t likely to forgive that bit anytime soon but you could at least make an attempt to figure out your situation.

“He’s looking for you. I’m in more danger here than I was out there.”

“I can’t fight him alone. I need allies against him.”

“Am I just an ally to you Victor Vale?’

“At the least an ally.”

“At the most?”

“Don’t make me say it.” You looked at him through your lashes.

“Still the same Victor then.” You sat up all the way. “Who were they?”

“Runaways.”

“Friends.” He smirked.

“You know I don’t have friends. Not since Eli.”

“How dare I assume.” You would likely fight him about this whole ordeal when you had the strength to. For now you knew you had entered a war you had been fighting since it was conceived. It was foolish to run away from it.

Victor gently grabbed your hand. Without even thinking, he took away what little pains you had left. Not as a kindness but as an instinct.

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

fazer blaster

sun (fnaf) x reader

warnings: sun worrying about moon

Walking through the Pizzaplex was always a bit of an annoying task. When you first got hired here as a night guard, you got lost everywhere you went. You never really knew where an elevator was taking you. Sometimes you would end up near the stage, sometimes near the escalators, sometimes you would wander right into Monty Golf.

It was a bit of a nightmare back then.

“I made my way here but I do not know my way back,” you muttered with a small laugh as you leaned over the ballpit. You held your hand out and Sun took it, his permanent plastered smile looking extra sweet tonight.

“I can help!” he exclaimed, hoping out of the ballpit and onto the floor of the daycare.

“How often do you leave the daycare?” you questioned, looking up at him. Even bending down he was towering over you. You never quite got used to his height.

“All the time!” he explained, waving his hands around.

“Sunny…”

“Okay okay! Sometimes!” He started to walk to the door. His hands were floating back and forth, practically jumping with each step but with grace you never understood. You followed him, shaking your head.

“Sunny, I can’t do that right now. I have to clean the ballpit.”

“After though! I’ll take you all around!” He rushed back to you, grabbing your hand. His hands were softer than the rest of his metal body. You gave him a gentle gaze and nodded gently. You had been given explicit directions not to let Sun leave without supervision. He tended to get lost before the plex opened back up again. But he was allowed to leave as long as he was with you.

“Okay. I’m going to clean the ballpit first okay?”

“Of course of course! I’m going to help clean!” He got down on his knees, manually scoping out the balls. You told him countless times, there was a machine to help you with that, but he always tried to help you himself.

You hurried up, so that Sun wouldn’t harp on you much, and finally was able to set off into the night for your rounds.

“I have to check on everyone in their rooms before I leave. It’s up the elevator. I think.”

“Yes yes!” he explained. “The elevator takes you to everyone's room.” You gave him a side glance, slightly unsure even as the two of you left the daycare. You weren’t sure how often he left the small children's play place. He was looking around eagerly, touching everything he could get his hands on. “The last night guard never took me outside!” he told you.

“Sucks for them. You make wonderful company.” He didn’t face you, too flushed to look at you. “Doesn’t Moon come out?” you questioned. You had been briefed on Moon. You had never actually met him though. Your shift always ended before the lights went off in the daycare. Sun immediately recoiled into himself some more. You knew he didn’t like to talk about Moon but figured that you had to bring him up eventually, especially considering how close you and Sun had gotten.

“He’s a rulebreaker!” Sun exclaimed in annoyance.

“But don’t you have his memories too?”

“But I get to touch things!” he said and the conversation about Moon was effectively over. You brushed it off with a smile. Sun pushed the elevator up button and then pushed it again and again and again. You laughed and patiently waited for it to come down. “All of the others get to spend so much time outside,” he pondered.

“Well technically they’re not supposed to.” You stepped inside and let Sun push the buttons inside. “But they’re rulebreakers.” He nodded once and you could almost see his determined face through his stuck features. You leaned against the wall.

“Before I check on everyone do you want to go play some Fazer Blaster?” He turned his head to you quickly, silent.

“Really?!”

---

You handed him a fazer blaster. He held it in his hands, confused at the weight of it.

“Don't shoot me in the eye.” You put on one of the helmets and then grabbed another one. “I don't think this’ll fit over your…” You gestured to the sun rays on his head. With a shing they retracted back into his head and he eagerly grabbed the helmet, fitting it over his head. It wasn’t exactly snug but he seemed happy.

“We’re on separate teams. You need to protect your flag and I need to protect mine. The security bots will play as the other members. Do not aim for the eyes,” you said. He nodded quickly.

“Why are we on separate teams?!” he asked, annoyed.

“Because we can’t be on one team,” you said, laughing. “That would defeat the purpose.” He let out a loud huff.

“Fine!” You flicked on the lights in the room so you didn’t get any unexpected visitors. He rushed down the hallway and then down the blue one, while you went down the orange one. You rode the elevator and then emerged in the laser tag like arena. You could see the top of Sun's helmet across the room. He was too tall for this place which made you giggle. You slinked past some of the security bots.

You heard some commotion across then an exasperated annoyed sound from Sun.

“What a mess! Clean up, clean up!” Oh poor Sun. He probably was cleaning up the bot he had just shot. You walked up the ramp and saw him from the top. He was defending his flag. You leaned against the railing and watched as he jumped around the bots.

“Sun!” you called. He looked up at you and waved back, his arm extended widley. You giggled. “You’re doing great!”

“You’re supposed to come and get me!” he called.

“I don’t have the heart,” you called back. You waited for him to win and then walked back down. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you thank you!” He lifted you up into a hug. You smiled and hugged him back, laughing.

“I have to go get the others now. Would you like to come?”

“I would!” You nodded and took his fazer blaster, putting it in the return basket. You grabbed his large hand and started to lead him.

“Don’t stray!”

“I won't, I won't!”

#this is from an old blog of mine but refound it today lmao #he’s so 😭❤️#sun fnaf x reader #sunrise x reader #fnaf imagines #five nights at Freddy’s imagines

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

bloody shower

art the clown x fem!reader

warnings: art being art, nakedness but nothing sexual, blood.

The snow was beginning to pile up outside. You looked outside your back door, through the foggy window. It hadn’t been forecasted and you hadn’t prepared for the ice starting to cover the roads, nor the inches that were beginning to pile up outside your home. You might’ve prepared not to go to work the next day or at the very least, run to the store to get essentials. You could never be sure how long you would have to stay in when it snowed suddenly like this. Would you be confined for a couple of hours or a couple of days?

The silence of the snow brought an eeriness. You looked back at your front door and couldn’t help but wonder where Art was tonight. You hadn’t seen him in nearly a week; the longest he had been away since October. Once things started to get colder you saw him less and less and then nearly not at all in the Summer months. You weren’t sure where he went. You weren’t even sure he had a great sense of time. Maybe just the weather.

You turned off your back porch light and contemplated leaving some food outside, as though Art was some sort of stray cat who would come and eat. Did he even need to eat? He never answered the pressing questions when he came by. Only the ridiculous ones.

Never, how do you get the stains out of your suit?

Instead, this is how he takes the suit off!

Never, are you a human who needs to eat?

Instead, he can make mashed potatoes!

Never once, are you a human at all?

Instead, you’re a fragile human and he can protect you! No more questions!

At some point in your messy relationship, you had gotten used to the fact you never got answers. You likely would never understand the way that he was and was all together fine with that. It came with the weird relationship you had with a serial killer clown who never speaks.

You started to turn off your lights, feeling the sleep drift into your eyes. The downstairs of your home was immersed in darkness. Just as you stepped a foot onto the first stair going up there was an aggressive knock on your front door.

You slowly removed your foot and carefully walked to the door. When you peaked through the peephole you could see the wide familiar eyes staring directly back. You jumped, not expecting for him to be so close to the front door. You unlocked it and quickly swung it open.

Art stood there, snow piled onto his head and shoulders. He had a particularly annoyed look on his face. He wasn’t shivering but you figured it had something to do with the cold. He had his trash bag over his shoulder, fingers as white as the snow piling up outside.

Dried blood littered his clothing but nothing fresh red stuck out. Clearly there had been no bloodshed tonight.

You moved aside.

“Cold out there isn’t it?” you hummed. He pushed past you into the home. He dropped his bag at the side of the door and shut the door with an annoyed umph. He kept walking, essentially ignoring your presence. You rolled your eyes, locking the door behind you. You rubbed your eyes and mindlessly followed Art.

He was unpredictable. Sometimes he came to devour half the kitchen. Sometimes he wanted a hug. Sometimes he wanted to threaten you with a knife then laugh at the fear in your eyes. You were too tired to direct him anywhere and it was too cold to kick him out.

What was that saying people had for their pets?

If you’re cold, they’re cold.

Art was in your kitchen now, rummaging through the cupboards. He tossed things onto the counter, shaking them, turning them upside down and discarding them. Finally he found what he was looking for. The box of lucky charms you had unopened. All the marshmallows still inside, not picked through. He ripped open the top of the box and let out a bloody smile as he reached a hand in, taking a whole fistful.

“You’re helping me clean that,” you said, pointing to the counter. “In the morning.”

He rolled his eyes, giving you a flick of his hand that said oh well.

“I’m going to bed, Art,” you muttered. He gave an exaggerated pout, a deep frown. His eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head, gesturing with his hand that you should remain put. “Art I’m exhausted. I might have to drive into work tomorrow and-” He cut you off without saying anything, eyes going wide as he jerked his head back. He shook his head more aggressively now.

He put up one finger, as if to say first off.

You loved playing this silly charades game with Art. You were beginning to understand him more.

Art gestured to himself and then to the house.

“I know you just got here. But I’m tired and my schedule doesn’t revolve around you randomly showing up,” you argued. He tilted his head down, wagging his finger at you. He isn’t tired yet. He made a big show of wiping the snow off his shoulders, letting it fall in chunks onto your floor. You pursed your lips. “You’re cold.”

He nodded.

“I have a shower you know,” you suggested. He raised an eyebrow. You laughed gently under your breath and nodded to the stairs. “C’mon you monster.” He put down the cereal box without care and followed behind you. You opened up the bathroom door and turned on the shower head. You would run a bath if you didn’t think he would murky up the water immediately.

He hoisted himself up onto the counter, kicking himself back and forth, his feet hitting the cupboards aggressively. You put your hand under the running water and gestured for him.

“It’s warm now. You know how to turn it up higher?” He nodded quickly and kicked himself off again. He put his hand under the water, soaking his gloves in the process. He put up his thumb and gestured for it to go higher. You rolled your eyes, turning it up a notch higher. The water started to steam off his hand and his bloody smile returned.

“Can I go to bed now?” you asked. He pouted once more, a face you were familiar with seeing. You tilted your head down, reading his eyes. He stepped away, hand dripping with hot water. He gestured to the shower then to you then to him then back to the shower. You scoffed. “That’s boiling hot Art. I’ll die.” He let out a deep, soundless sigh then turned the water down a notch.

You smiled weakly and crossed your arms. He waited patiently, far too patient for him. You had to admit, the idea seemed nice. It was cold outside. A warm shower before bed never made you any more awake.

“Okay.” He clapped aggressively. “But no funny business!”

He nodded quickly, though the mischievous look in his eyes never ever left him. He eagerly started to rid himself of his suit. You saw him without it often, simply because he had nothing else to wear. You had to wash it and he would wake around naked with no qualms. You were used to him.

You walked carefully into the shower and he followed, facing the water for a moment. His makeup never seemed to wash off, which always amazed you. You had never seen it smudge and you had never seen him reapply it.

He made a face at the water and started to spit it out like a waterfall. You scoffed, laughing gently. How did you get here? Why were you not appalled?

You like the warm water cover your tired body and splash off of Art with a small smile. He started to get your hair wet then made a big show of washing his own head, sans the hair. Your giggles were growing sleepy but he enjoyed them nonetheless. Steam came from his skin as he started to warm up from the freezing temperatures outside.

You had a feeling that if it were up to Art, he would stay here until the water got cold. He closed his eyes in exaggerated content as you started to prune up. The dried dirt and blood had washed off him.

“Art, I’m going to sleep,” you whispered. He did the familiar pout. “No arguing this time. I’ve gotta.” He didn’t fight. You stepped out of the shower, allowing him to stay in. You figured you would see him at some point when he had enough of the water. Your bathroom might overfill but it was a problem for tomorrow. You dried your hair with a towel then tossed on some pajamas. Before leaving to shower you peaked your head back into the shower. Art smiled back at you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered. He pointed to his lips and hit it a few times. You gave him one more weak smile and leaned over, kissing him. He was always sloppy but loving. When you pulled away his eyes remained shut. You made the murder clown happy. You could survive another night.

He came to bed an hour later, still naked and sopping wet but clean which is all that you could ask of him.

#art the clown x reader #art the clown x female!reader #art the clown imagines

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

head trauma

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

warnings: heavy insinuations to smut, couple dirty jokes (i couldn't help myself im sorry), canon level violence, graves is an asshole^tm but he comes back around i promise, reader gets knocked out and has to go to the hospital. i think thats it lemme know if i missed anything!

7.5k words

“Are you coming drinking with us?” Gaz questioned. He was slowly but surely starting to take off his layers of protection so that he was in street clothes once more. You were doing the same. You stretched your arms out as you shook your head gently.

“No, I’ve gotta get to bed,” you said, half yawning. It had been a long one today. It was always a long one. You were so used to not returning for days on end that you were never quite sure what day it was. Price had a good way of making it seem not as bad as it was.

“One drink?” Gaz pleaded. You shook your head. You ran your hand through your hair. You couldn’t remember the last time you had washed it. You were eager to scrub the dirt off of you. You hadn’t felt clean in so long.

“Rain check. I’ll see you guys again soon.”

“You’re missin out!” Soap called from behind the row of lockers you were standing between. You scoffed, shoving your things into your bag. He walked around the corner and leaned against the rusty row. “Gaz promised a karaoke show.” You scoffed, a hearty laugh escaping your lips.

“You gonna sing Mr. Brightside for the guys?” you questioned. Gaz was uniting his boots so you leaned down to eye level. “I would hate to miss that.”

“Well you aren’t missing out on anything,” he promised. “I’m going home before anyone reaches the karaoke machine.”

“Bummer,” you pouted. “I’ll catch you guys next time, I promise.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and gave Soap a pat on the back as you walked past him. When you turned the corner to leave the room you almost rammed into Price who was standing and waiting with his own things. He looked weird after a mission. Without the hat you swore you wouldn’t be able to recognize him in the streets.

“Who is he?” Price questioned. You rolled your eyes defensively.

“Who is who?”

“The guy you’re seeing.”

“Well currently I’m looking at you Captain.”

“Don’t play coy. We know it’s someone!” Soap called. You smiled slyly and pushed past Price. It smelled like boys in here. You had almost gotten used to the odor. You were so used to being one of the only girls in the room. But honestly, when you were with this group you hardly could tell that you were technically the odd one out. You trusted these men. That was saying a lot.

But if they found out who you were going to see they might not be as happy as you were.

“I don’t question you guys about your love lives, I expect the same treatment,” you said, putting your hand on Price’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I like worrying. It keeps me young,” he said, tilting his head down to look at you. “You be safe. I know you can handle a gun and I expect you will if you need to.”

“No worries Captain. I’m going to go home now okay? Have fun tonight. Don’t stay out too late!”

“Yes ma’am!” Gaz called jokingly. You rolled your eyes as you left the room and then left the building.

The night was chilly and you regretted not grabbing one of your jackets. There was a light dampness in the air, caused by the rain from earlier in the day. A black car was humming by the curb. You tightened the grip on your backpack and approached it.

You came around the corner and opened up the passenger door.

Phillip Graves leaned over the center console.

“What took you so long?” he grumbled. Despite his tone you could see the anticipation in his eyes. It was easy to think that he had the upper hand in the relationship you were sharing. But the look in his eyes gave him away. He was so used to making decisions for his team, life changing decisions, that when you held him in your hands he gave you the power.

So despite his tone, you smiled at him as you sat down. He didn’t move and waited between the seats as you turned to him. You kissed him, the small grin remaining on your face as you remembered the feeling of his lips again. They were a comfort for you now. They were familiar.

“Had to escape the guys,” you said against his lips.

“Mhm,” he hummed deeply. “Always surrounded by so many guys. You know, I have this great group you might like.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah I heard the Commander’s an asshole.”

“Sweet as candy though,” he promised. You could still feel his breath against your face. You squinted, teasingly.

“Tastes like cologne, I don’t know how sweet that is.” You kissed him again briefly then backed away, much to his demise. He put the car in drive with a low rumble. Graves put his hand on your knee. You could feel a soft warmth in your chest.

You never expected to have something to come home to. Someone you adored, someone you needed.

“I need an intelligence officer,” he said, voice suggestive.

“What happened to your current intelligence officer?” you asked. He glanced at you, eyes remaining on the road but catching your emotions.

“He walked onto a bomb.”

“Why was he in the fi-”

“Good question.” There was a gloom in his voice.

“Shepherd still making decisions over there?”

“I have a feeling he’s going to for a little while longer.” He glanced at you again. “Not everyone can have John Price.” You scoffed at his insinuation that you had it easy. Regardless, you pushed on his problem and not him deflecting onto you.

“What’d he do?”

He was quiet for a minute.

“Just made some shit decisions. Doesn’t matter. I still need an intelligence officer. You could see me more.”

“Just so I can get caught sleeping with my superior?”

“We can still save the fucking for home,” he promised making you laugh gently. “Though you’d look amazing at my desk. I’ve got a whole office you know.”

“Windows?”

“Blinds.” You smiled slyly. You were about to open your mouth to counter with something coy when your bag started to buzz. You reached in it, digging out your phone. It was your work phone with no Caller ID. “Who’s that?”

“The other guy I fuck when I’m in town,” you said absentmindedly. He rolled his eyes but you missed it. You put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“You forgot your jacket.” It was Gaz. You pursed your lips suspiciously.

“What is it Kyle?”

“You forgot it. You’ve gotta come back and get it.”

“I’m already halfway home.”

“Did you call a cab?”

“Gaz, back off. I’m fine.” There was some commotion on the other line. Philip was not so secretly trying to figure out what was being said so you put the phone on speaker. You reached your other hand up and put it over his mouth. He glanced over at you, a suggestive look in his eyes but didn’t spit your hand away.

“Soap is gonna steal your jacket.”

“I have others. Are you guys already at the bar? I just left.”

“Still here. You missed out on a stellar Price pep talk.”

“It wasn’t a pep talk!” you could hear Price call. You rolled your eyes.

“Be safe bye bye Gaz.” You hung up the phone and removed your hand from Philip’s mouth.

“You never do the mouth covering. Maybe you should try it,” he suggested.

He pulled up to his place. Graves lived in a small house. It was in a nice neighborhood. There wasn’t a hint of crime around the property and not a hint of children. This was a place for old people who retired and couldn’t go up two story stairs. You weren’t sure if Graves had picked it for the lack of families or if he just wanted somewhere no one would look for him. Despite that, you enjoyed being there. You felt sort of … special. How many coworkers and hookups had been to his house?

Graves liked it because when he watched you go inside he could almost imagine a life where he wasn’t being threatened every other day. The idea of a home and a wife…maybe a couple kids. That was appealing to him. He could picture Christmas and mornings before school and your smile in bed.

Well, he didn’t need to exactly imagine your smile in bed.

He followed you inside, locking his car and shutting the door behind him. You had used the spare key on top of his door frame.

“You do need an intelligence person. Key on top of the door? Phillip. That isn’t very intelligent.”

“Oh you’re very smart.”

You tossed the spares onto the couch and slipped off your shoes. You were going to speak again when you turned around but were quickly cut off by Philips lips against yours. You hummed, relaxing. He gripped your thighs, touching you like you were his lifeline. He hiked up your shirt so that he was touching your skin. You molded into him. His lips tasted like beer permanently. The bitter taste had started to grow on you.

“You taste so good,” he breathed. He was eager, quiet, stumbling around. You could walk backwards into his room blindfolded. You knew the feel of his bed frame against the back of your thighs. You knew the air change and the fan that was permanently turned on in the corner. He was kissing you and you were leading him and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this good.

How long could you do this? How long could the two of you last, sleeping together in his home when you were both around. How long could you exist in the home that isn’t yours with a man that wasn’t yours either? How long could he last knowing you were always out there with guys who wanted you?

The kisses were always empty promises.

I’ll be here when you wake up.

I’ll tell you if I have to leave.

We’ll eat breakfast together. I’ll make your coffee. You can kiss me before I leave.

We’ll be back together at the end of the day.

As you started to drift off that night he put his hand on your side and pulled you closer to him. He didn’t know if he would live to see next week with Shepherd calling his shots but he could have you right now. You unconsciously nuzzled against his back. His arm slung over your waist and kissed your bare shoulder.

He was half awake. Drifting between the inbetween, not quite sure if your skin was even real. His eyes had been shut for five long minutes and they would remain shut throughout the night. His judgment was impaired. He was drunk on your sticky skin. You still smelled of him.

“‘M love you,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes but he didn’t flinch. He must not have recognized what he said.

“I love you too Phillip,” you told him back. If he heard it or not you couldn’t tell. You fell asleep with the words in the air, hanging around like large bolded letters that were painted on the walls.

The phone was ringing. Graves could hear it faintly. It was muffled by sleep, like it was in another room. He picked up his hand lazily, surprised to land on skin. He raised his head, squinting in the darkness. His eyes landed on your sleeping face. He allowed for a brief smile to pass his face as he remembered the feeling of your lips and the words leaving them.

Then he picked up the phone, not even looking at who it was.

“Graves,” he mumbled groggily. He laid his head back down on the pillow.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment but he could hear breathing. His senses were keen even when he was half awake.

“Hello?” he grumbled. You turned around which caused him to groan in annoyance. He pulled the phone away from his ear and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. You didn’t complain. “Go back to sleep,” he grumbled.

“Who is it?” you whispered against his chest.

“Dunno.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Hello?” he asked again.

“I dunno it’s some fuckin guy!” the voice over the phone complained. There was some clanging, mixed with loud music. Footsteps approached the phone.

“Who the fuck is this?” a deep, british voice asked. In his state Graves had no idea who was speaking. He genuinely thought he had picked up his own phone.

“Graves,” he repeated. He opened his eyes wider and let out a sigh. “Who is this?”

“It’s fuckin Graves,” the british voice said. There were even louder voices. Phil was about ready to hang up.

“Shadows Graves?” another British voice asked. That voice he recognized. A certain Captain of a certain girl in his arms. He moved the phone away from his face and looked at the name on the screen of your personal phone. MacTavish.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Phil mumbled.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head up to look at him.

“She’s sleeping with fuckin Phillip fuckin Graves?!” a scottish accent called in the background. The phone was snatched away. “Y/L/N.”

“Is that Price?” you asked quietly. “Why are you on the phone with Price?”

“Unintentional.” You grabbed the phone away from him.

“Captain?” You sat up, holding yourself up by your elbow. Philip grumbled sleepily and buried his head in the pillow beside you.

“Where are you?”

“Where are you? Why are you calling?”

“MacTavish called for you but you didn’t answer,” he grumbled. “Where are you?”

“Price-” Someone else grabbed the phone.

“Phillip Graves huh?” Soap asked into the phone. “Did you get him tested? The man is a walkin douchebag.” You scoffed.

“Not to mention your superior!” Price said beside him.

“He’s jealous it wasn’t him,” you grumbled jokingly. Soap laughed. He was drunk, you could tell from the giggle. “What do you need Johnny?”

“I need a drinking partner but I see you’re all tied up.”

“Not anymore,” Phillip promised beside you. You nudged him.

“Johnny,” you muttered. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had a long day-”

“Long night from the sound of it.”

“Goodnight.” You hung up the phone and tossed it aside. You fell back onto the pillow. Phil’s face was smooshed against the comforter. You brushed his hair aside and rested your hand over his waist.

“You mean what you said earlier?” he grumbled against the fabric.

“Didn think you heard that.” You paused. “Yes.”

There was a long silence.

“Me too.”

You were surprised to find Phil still sleeping when your alarm went off. You pressed snooze and sat up, forcing yourself to open your eyes. There were a couple of sleepy moments where you looked around in the dark, rubbing your eyes in confusion. You knew the comforter. You knew the hand resting on your lap. Usually Phil woke up leagues before you did and was gone by the time you rose. You reached over and grabbed his phone. Maybe it had died. He had a shitty habit of forgetting to charge it. It was on. He just didn’t set a time to get up.

In the uncomfortable morning air, you smiled.

He had said he loved you.

You looked down at his sleeping figure. It was cliche but it hit you like a truck. He looked so calm. He was usually so riled up. It was odd to see him silent, not mouthing off, no gun powder smeared on his face.

You felt a swell of gratification. How many people saw him like this? How many people did he allow to see him with his guard down? Vulnerable?

You leaned down and kissed his forehead because you could. You gently moved his hand off of your lap so you could get up. Phil groaned when your body heat left the bed.

“Baby?” he grumbled, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Still here,” you promised.

“Stay home.” Home. Was this home for you? Could it be?

“I don’t have clothes here, I need to go grab some.”

“Stay here,” he demanded. His voice was reminiscent of his Commander voice, formidable and strong. He lifted his head. His hair was sticking up at odd ends, face smushed into a sleepy gaze. He blinked a couple times in the darkness.

“I have to go to work, Phil.” His head fell back again with a loud groan. You laughed, looking up at the ceiling. Good God what have you gotten yourself into? “I have to explain last night’s midnight phone call to my team.”

He picked his head back up to look at you. He rested on his elbow, squinting. He looked so pretty you sat back down beside him.

“You gotta go in too.” You brushed his hair out of his face. “Hm?” In the moment of silence you appreciated being there. You appreciated him wanting you to stay.

God you were screwed.

He closed his eyes tightly and then opened them quickly, blinking away his sleep. He half rose propping himself up onto his palms.

“I’m comin.”

“We gonna carpool?” you asked, laughing gently. He grumbled something you couldn’t comprehend and you stood up again. “I still need clothes.” He climbed out of bed, footsteps heavy as they slid on the ground. He opened up his dresser drawers and threw some clothes at you. You scoffed, just barely being able to catch them. Still an asshole. He grabbed clothes for himself and as he walked past you he kissed your forehead. Your asshole.

“I can’t believe you drink black coffee,” you muttered, sipping your coffee. You were wearing a shirt with his last name across your chest. You didn’t ask if he did it on purpose but you wore it with pride. You knew what you were going into when you saw your team again. You may as well own up to it. Graves was driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his caffeine. “Actually I can.”

“You callin me bitter?” he questioned. You paused, pursing your lips. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye. “You’re supposed to say no.”

“You’re strong!” You nodded to yourself, laughing a bit. “Like black coffee.” He scoffed, shaking his head. He put his drink down and pointed at you.

“You’ve got like half a carton of cream in there. That isn’t even coffee.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a 50 year old man drinking black coffee.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’re not getting any boost from that drink. I could’ve warmed up milk for you in the microwave.”

There was a blissful kind of air in the car. A quiet, domestic ambience, something you had never expected from Phil. You wondered briefly if you were giving him too much trust. How much could you expect from him?

“You’re gonna be comfortably late,” he hummed. “Let those boys know where you were.” You scoffed softly.

“I’ll just point at the shirt,” you promised. He rested his hand on your thigh.

“You do that. Shows who you belong to.” You raised an eyebrow, playing with his fingers. His skin was rough and calloused from years of being in the field. This hand has ended people's lives and it’s the same hand holding yours.

“People don’t belong to people,” you argued gently, despite the fact that you only half believed it. “I’m not a cow. You can’t brand me.”

He lifted his hand and aimlessly reached for your collarbone. You looked at him confused until he landed on a new forming purple bruise, caused by him.

“You’re not a cow. You’re a girl who’s got a hickey I gave her.”

“You have some too. You aren’t unmarked,” you joked. He remembered the ones on his stomach, the ones you had given him as you slowly made your way down his body. He remembered it fondly.

“And I wouldn’t wanna be.” He glanced at you, an uncharacteristic look in his eyes. You couldn’t read it at first. There was a gentle confusion, a considerate vulnerability. It was silent but you read it in his eyes. He was yours.

Right now at least.

He pulled into the parking lot.

“What’re you doin today?” you questioned. The vulnerability immediately escaped his face when you asked.

“Hopefully nothin too bad,” he muttered. “You’re out in the field?”

“Kinda. I’m just going with Gaz and Price to scope a place out not too far away. I’ll be back tonight if things go well.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

You smiled shyly to yourself as the car turned off. He reached over the middle console and kissed you briefly like you had known each other for years. As he left the car you were met with the harsh winds of the morning.

You got out after him, a beep indicating that he locked it.

“Be safe,” he said absentmindedly.

“I will. You too.”

You started to part in a quick way, walking away from each other. You were halted by his footsteps coming to a slow stop. You glanced back at him.

“I love you,” he called. You started to walk backwards, a cheeky look on your face.

“I love you too Graves.”

You turned back around and kept walking, keenly listening as he remained. He watched you until he couldn’t see you anymore. The smile he gave you remained. You would go home with him tonight. You could go home with him every night if you wanted to. You walked without thinking much.

“There she is,” Gaz called, tossing your jacket at you. You caught it, barely, “Was going straight to sleep huh?”

“I did go to sleep, eventually.”

“You’re lucky Soap isn’t here. He wanted to know details.”

“You don’t? I’m hurt.”

“I have no interest in knowing how the Shadows Commander is in bed.” He pat you on the back. You opened up your locker and started to shift through things.

“Nice shirt,” Price said, coming around the corner. You glanced at him.

“Thanks Cap.”

“You told Shepherd?”

“No sir. I wasn’t even gonna tell you,” you admitted. Gaz hissed a bit, causing a look from both you and Price.

“Harsh is all!” Gaz pleaded.

“He’s your superior.”

“We’re not even in the same team. It’s not like I slept with you sir.” You shut your locker gently and leaned against it.

“Wheels up in twenty. We’re not finished talking about this.” You nodded once.

“I figured not.” You were about to walk away but paused. “Did you tell Shepherd?” He was already walking away. Gaz shook his head.

“He didn’t say anything. We had a whole conversation about it last night, some of us more drunk than others,” he promised. You threw your jacket back at him.

“What were the highlights?”

“Lots of em are protective of you. And lots of em don’t like Graves for you.”

“I’m a grown woman.”

“Well he’s a grown man with a shitty reputation.” You rolled your eyes.

“What’re we doing again today?” you questioned, keenly awning to change the subject. Gaz was shrugging on his boots, sitting on one of the benches between the lockers.

“Shepherd’s orders. There’s a supposed Hassan sighting.”

“Here?”

“Near here. Did you not get the briefing?”

“I’m sure I did but I figured I had you to fill me in. Hassan near here. He’s just sending in the three of us huh?” You shoved the morning and the eventual night out of your head to make room for the day.

“Well I’m sure we’ll have air support if we need it but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” You hummed under your breath.

“It won’t.”

The confusion burned. Where had you left Price? Why couldn’t you hear him in your ear, telling you where he was, promising that it was going to be okay? There was smoke in your eyes. What had gone wrong?

You retraced your steps in your head. You followed Price and Gaz trailed behind you into a large field with a single building. It was aside from most civilization and though it was foregin, it wasn’t exactly unfamiliar. This was the kind of situation the three of you had walked into countless times before. You knew the jokes that Price would make and you knew the way Gaz would counter. You would have a close call in the narrow hallway. You would be home in time for dinner.

Not this.

You take right, let’s clear the building and search it, Price had said. Words you were used to. You nodded once, answering with a quick Yes Cap before moving along. Gaz took left and you went to the back window. You eyed the windows. It was a worn down place, windows smashed, lights half on. But someone had clearly been there. You pushed the back door open with the tip of your gun.

And then impact. Smoke. A ringing in your ear. Pain shooting in your legs. You had been near a bomb that went off before. But never this close.

As your hearing came back you could hear the gunshots echoing in the high pitched ring but no Price. Nothing in your earpiece. You blinked heavily, attempting to make your sight return to you. Having lost your senses you were now sitting on the ground, one hand loosely on your gun, unable to comprehend new information.

“Price?” you whispered aloud, hoping he could hear you. “Gaz?”

Nothing. Just more ringing. Even your own voice sounded far away. You backed into a wall and stayed there. They had taught you what to do in this situation. They had taught you to stand back up, to gain your bearings, to get out of the way. Let your soldiers finish what you couldn’t.

You stood up, wobbly.

“Price?!” you called. You raised your gun and couldn’t see anything in the smoke. There was no one, no hostiles in front of you. They must have been in the house. No response. You grabbed the corner of the door frame and used it to stand up all the way. You could catch your breath even if your brain wasn’t with you. Your thoughts weren’t needed but your muscle memory was.

Finally, a voice spoke in your ear.

“Actual we’re getting gunned down out here!” Price’s voice.

“Do not pull back soldier, clear the house for Hassan!” Shepherd's voice.

“John?” you muttered weakly. No response. They couldn’t hear you. Or maybe you just weren’t speaking loud enough.

“General there’s no way-” Gaz said deeply. He was struggling too. You had to help them. You had to.

You propelled yourself forward.

“Remain the-” Shepherd’s voice started but you didn’t get to hear the end because someone hit you on the side of the head, causing you to crumble back down to the ground. Out cold.

Phillip had a skip in his step as he walked into work that morning. A night well spent and a morning well received. What he had done with Shepherd seemed like a blip in his mind. Maybe it was finally swept under the rug. Maybe it could finally be gone. He could find the missiles on his own, with his team, and this could go away. He could have a wife. A family. A home he could come back to after a hard days work.

A pleasant aura followed him until he got the call from Shepherd.

He choked on his glass of water.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re needed on air support Graves.”

“When?”

“What time is it now?”

“For what?”

“Why are you still asking me questions? Get in the air.”

“Alpha this is Shadow Actual do you read me?” Graves said aloud, grip tightening on the bar above him as he leaned down. He looked between the men and down at the screens that should him the ground below. They were circling the building. He could see smoke and fire but no people. “Infrared,” he muttered to the man beside him. “Alpha, do you read me?”

“Shadow Actual, this is Alpha 0-8 I read you. We’re glad to see you,” Price’s voice echoed. “We’re stuck inside, do not fire on the building.”

“Copy that.” Graves was twisting his hard grip on the overhead bar. He could see bodies huddled up in the middle, dead ones littered around. “I’m going down there.”

“Commander?”

“Drop the ladder. Keep talking to me.”

“Graves stay in the air,” Shepherd said evenly.

“Shadows in the air. I’m going down.”

He wanted to stay clear. He wanted his head to be empty of clouds, of feelings, of worry. He could only do that on the ground. He could only do that if he was down there, with you, making sure you were alright. He had been in a haze all day. An emotion guided haze and he can’t say that he enjoyed it. No matter the pleasantness that rooted in his cloudy state, he wanted it gone.

Or he wanted it safe.

The fact that he hadn’t heard your voice in his ear was enough for him to lower himself to the ground. He could see himself shooting through the waves of terrorists but it felt outside of his body. He could hear himself speaking into the coms, assuring Price he was nearby, even able to give directions to his men in the air. But it was all muscle memory. He wasn’t there.

What if you were hurt? What if you were dead? What if he had finally found a home and lost it just as quickly? He set his jaw and pushed the door open with the tip of his gun.

He shot at a man coming around the corner and let out an easy breath.

The soldier fell. Behind him emerged a familiar face with an even more familiar hat. Graves didn’t put his gun down. He took a moment to gaze around the room, eyes landing on Kyle Garrick. He scanned the room quickly, eyes on the bleeding, unmoving but still warm bodies. No familiar faces.

Graves ripped the comm out of his ear.

“Where is she?”

“She went around the back,” Gaz said, admittedly as distressed about your loss. “We got ambushed-” Graves pushed between the two of them.

“The building isn’t clear,” he said, using his Commander voice.

“Alpha 0-9 how copy?” Graves could hear Price ask. “Y/N how copy?”

Graves broke in a locked door with a kick.

“Y/L/N!” he yelled into the void. He could hear the scattered searching from the other two men but his heartbeat was increasing in his ears, starting to drown it out. He anxiously scanned the dead bodies. He had lost men before. He knew he could handle it. “Answer me goddamit.”

“Upstairs clear!” Gaz called but there was a distress in his voice.

His breathing had started to become uneven. He was kicking bodies now, losing his cool. “C’mon baby. C’mon.” Suddenly Price’s voice broke through his mania.

“Here!”

Graves tore through the rooms. He could hear the echo of the voices he wasn’t listening to in his comm.

You were lying on the ground, eyes shut. Graves skid onto the ground, practically shoving Price aside.

“Need the bird for medic,” Price said. “Come on girl,” he grumbled, allowing Graves to grab your body and hold it. His hands were shaking. He had tossed his gun aside. He found your neck and pressed his fingers against it to find your pulse. It was there but it was faint. Your head was bleeding a deep red but there was no gun shot. No evidence of a stabbing. That didn’t mean a head wound couldn’t kill you.

“She wasn’t shot,” Gaz observed.

“I’m taking her in the Shadows heli. We’ll get her help faster.” He put his comm back into his ear. “Land outside the-”

“There’s already a medic bird coming,” Price argued.

“She could be internally bleeding and you wanna wait?”

“They’ll have what’s needed-”

“I’m not waiting,” he demanded. “Land on the southside of the building.”

He wrapped his hand under you and picked you up. The nooks and crannies of your body were familiar to him. Price didn’t see the need to argue with someone so set. Gaz followed suit as they left the building.

“How could you let this happen?!”

“She’s on my team. She can handle herself.”

“Clearly not!’

Your head was pounding. The voices in the room sounded far away but you could still make out what they were saying. You recognized the voices too. The accent honed by your Captain. The clear anger of your Phil Graves.

“If she serves any permanent damage from this, I’m coming for your head Price. I’ll have your mantel and the goddamn hat.” You groaned, an intentional diversion from the conversation. A scamper of heavy footed boots made their way closer to you.

“I’ll get a nurse,” Price said. His voice was controlled and even again. You doubted he feared any actual outcome of Phil’s words. You looked around at the bright lights, a gasp escaping your lips as the wave of pain hit you harder.

“Hey,” Phillip muttered, grabbing your hand. You looked over at him. “Don’t sit up. Price is getting someone.”

“Whatever pain meds they’re giving me, it isn’t enough,” you muttered weakly. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled. “I’m sorting it.” You forced yourself to stare back at him. His brows were furrowed into a thick worry. His face was turned down, looking down at you with thought.

“Good morning!” Price exclaimed as he walked back into the room. “I told you she was a tough one,” he muttered to Phil. He walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at you.

“What happened Cap?” you asked quietly.

“Stunned and hit. They were trying to take you for information and didn’t quite get that far. Nurse’ll be here soon.”

“How’re you feeling?” Graves asked.

“Like shit. How long was I out?”

“Couple hours,” Price told you deeply. “Gave us quite a scare.”

The heavy silence finally caught up to you. You hadn’t caught it before but did then. The worry radiating off of the men around you. The fear you had caused. It wasn’t every day Price lost a member of his team and he clearly wasn’t taking the possibility as well as he would’ve liked. And Graves…

It was clear he had run his hands through his hair countless times with the way it was sticking up now. He had taken off his bullet proof jacket but the rest of his field clothes remained. His fear manifested as anger.

You raised your hand lazily, almost missing him. You gripped the back of his head carefully, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You hummed and he froze. There hadn’t been a serious display of emotion between the two of you in public. You weren’t all there anyway.

Price observed, quietly. He may not have been Graves’ biggest fan but he knew emotion when he saw it. He knew vulnerability when he saw it.

“What is taking the nurse so goddamn long?” he breathed. He turned on his toes and left the room heavily. You were alone again.

“When do I get to go home?” you questioned. “I hate hospitals.”

“Whenever they cleared you.” You paused.

“What are you doing here? Did they call you from work?”

“They called Shadows for air support.”

“You found me?”

“Price did. But I was on the ground.” You nodded slowly. The air was stagnant. It reeked of antiseptic and you were sure you still smelled of blood. You stared at the ceiling. Your hand fell slowly off of Graves’ neck. “I can’t do this.” Your eyes flashed back to him. He was staring at your hands, intertwined sweatily.

“Huh?” The whiplash made your head pound.

“I can’t live in constant fear that you’ve been hurt. If you can’t…if you can’t protect yourself out here then this needs to end.” You lifted your head and he didn't tell you to stop.

“Phil I-”

“This was a simple mission-”

“We were ambushed!” Your voice was strained as you said it. You couldn’t argue right now, you weren’t in your right mind to. But he wanted to have this argument right now so you were gonna have it. “This is the job. This is my job and it’s your job.”

He stood up, letting go of your hand. “You’re scared of the emotions you’re feeling, that’s fine. But you’ll feel this any day. Could be anyone.” He turned away from you. He was going to speak again but then you weren’t alone anymore.

“Good Lord lass,” Soap said as he walked into the room. “You had Ghost and I about ready to head out there ourselves!”

“Thanks Soap,” you murmured. He sat down beside you and he was followed closely by Gaz. You watched as Graves left as they entered, unable to do anything to stop it.

They let you out after two days of observation. Price wanted you in for a whole week but you left the second you were allowed to. You had been visited by all of your team, even Ghost. Graves hadn’t come back.

Which is why, when you left the hospital you got in your car and drove to his apartment instead of yours. You stood outside of his door for a moment before knocking. How could you realistically allow this to bring you down? You had thought about it before, how much power you were giving someone that might not deserve it.

You still knocked.

You were here, after all.

He shuffled over to the door and your feet remained planted, despite your very being yelling for you to let it be. Phil opened the door wearing a shirt that was too tight and gray sweatpants. He didn’t say anything when he opened the door. No ‘hello’, no ‘what are you doing here?’

“You didn’t come back.”

“I heard you were fine.”

“Can I come in?” He thought about it for too long and then moved aside. You slithered in. He shut the door behind you. “Now that I have a bit of my brain power back, I’m ready to argue.”

“Huh?”

“That’s clearly what you wanted right? You wanted to argue with me about us. I’m here to argue.”

“I don’t wanna argue-”

“I love you Phil.” It was a leap. A shitty one maybe but you had to take it, just so you knew where you stood with him. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I thought you were gonna die,” he said. Chest puffed, jaw set. You knew that look. That was his look that meant he was gonna let you in. He was on his last barrier. You had no idea what the last couple of days had been like for him. The pacing, the reeling. How could he love someone like this? How could he not? “And I don’t like feeling like that.”

“Me neither.” He scoffed.

There was a heavy silence. You could hear the walls settling, the wind moving the building, the clock on the wall ticking. You watched as his chest rose and fell.

“I can’t…I won’t sit here and let you die on my watch. I can’t.”

“You won’t.” Your eyes wandered around the room in avoidance. “Why didn’t you come and see me again?”

“Shepherd and I accidentally gave three American missiles to the enemy.”

Your mouth fell open. You closed it quickly, clearing your throat. That was absolutely not what you were expecting him to say.

“You…what?”

“She-”

“No, I heard you. What does that have to do with-”

“He called me in because I was the only one he could call. You’re looking for missiles that I lost. He wasn’t even going to send me but it was Price out there.” You sat down on the couch. “Shepherd will keep putting you and I under the hot water until those missiles are detonated or found. Your team doesn’t know and they won’t know.” He felt like the weight had just left his shoulders. There was no protecting you now. But now you knew and he didn’t have to keep it to his chest. He could play all of his cards with you again.

“You covered up a federal crime.”

“Yeah.”

He sat down beside you. He could still have this, he promised himself. He could still have you.

“Well? Still love me now?” You looked back up at him. He was close again. You liked when he was close. His face was even. He was out of his comfort zone now. He wasn’t in the field and he wasn’t in front of his men. He was just here, eyes open, with you.

“Mhm.”

“What was that?”

“Yeah. I still love you.”

His face before kissing you was always full of confidence. There was never anything he could second guess about himself when he leaned in. You always let him kiss you first. Then you leaned into him. You put your hand on his chest and you pushed him down onto the couch and you felt safe again. You felt like you were home again. He brushed your head with his hand, gripping you with his entire palm and you winced.

“Oh Jesus,” he muttered, pulling away. “How the fuck is your head anyway?”

“Don’t hear you complaining,” you muttered against his lips. He chuckled cockily, forehead falling onto your shoulder.

“You’re gonna pass out mid thrust,” he grumbled. “It can wait.”

“If I can’t?”

“You can.” He grabbed the side of your head that hadn’t been hurt and kissed your forehead, a term of endearment you were learning to adore.

“You must love me. I’ve never heard you turn down head before Graves.”

“What would your Captain ask me if I sent you back to the hospital half naked hmm?” Giggles escaped your lips.

“He’d kill you.”

“Mm he’d try.” He wrapped his arms firmly around you, putting his chin on your head. “You can’t tell him about the missiles.”

“That sounds like a problem for when I get back to work,” you grumbled against his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We?”

“You and me. That’s what ‘we’ means, Phil.” He chuckled, that charm oozing through his laughter.

The night felt long with him. It felt like eternity. You eventually were forced to the bed for rest and had a short phone call with Johnny before drifting off. He made you promise that you were gonna be okay. You didn’t think about the impending war or the chunk missing from your head. You just watched as Graves brought you a glass of water without having been asked and sat beside you as he got ready for bed. You told Johnny you were home.

You would be fine.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” you asked quietly. The morning air was still fresh. You weren’t quite used to your eyes being open. You were ready to slip back into sleep at a moment's notice. You were rubbing Phillip’s arm as he stared at you. He looked out of it in the morning. Never quite there.

“Takin the day,” he said. He spoke it almost silently, like there was an air bubble he might break if he spoke too loudly. “Stayin with you.” You smiled gently and nuzzled into the pillow, breathing out slowly.

“I gotta call Price. He said he wanted to talk about my ‘personal problem today’.”

“Your personal problem being me?”

“Yes sir.” He smiled weakly.

“I like it when you call me sir.” You giggled softly. “What’re you gonna tell him?”

“You saved my life. I’m allowed to sleep in your bed.” He nodded lazily.

“That sounds like a fantastic plan.” You sat up, reaching for your bottle of painkillers. The head trauma wouldn’t leave you as quickly as you wanted to forget about it. He placed a hand on our thigh and squeezed. “How’s your head?”

“Fine. Tender.” He snorted. You leaned down and buried your head in the crook of his neck, giggling.

“Go back to bed,” he said, chuckling, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You were still shaking with silent laughter when he got you in his arms again. “You know I’m gonna get you back for this when you have all your wits about you yeah?” he asked, lips against your hair. You nodded.

“Looking forward to it, Commander.”

He let out a moan of annoyance mixed with desire that left you with even more giggles. You would call Price when you got up later. He would understand. He will probably give you some shit but you knew Price. He wanted what was best for you.

This morning was what was best for you.

#i went back and forth with this. is it good. i have no idea #ALSO I don’t know military words idk lol #lingo*#graves x reader #call of duty imagines #phillip graves x reader #Phillip graves imagines #Phillip graves x fem!reader

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

Never Any Other Option

Philip Graves x fem!reader

Warnings: mw2 spoilers, canon level violence, smut (it isn't a major plot point but it's there), graves being an asshole

It started slow. Much slower than Graves would’ve liked, that’s for sure. He had his eyes on you the moment he saw you and they sure as hell never left, not through the entire briefing. His eyes battled with everyone else in the cramped room to meet yours and you never once looked up.

He admired your strength. It reminded him of him.

He barely heard the resolution to the brief and made a mental note to reconvene with someone who was actually listening before he went out into the field. You left the room quickly but that didn’t stop him. Graves looped around the hallway till he met up with you at the stairs.

“Yes Commander?” you asked under your breath, glancing up at him as you opened the door. He held it for you and then followed so that he was walking beside you.

“Have you thought about that dinner?” he questioned. You side eyed him and tried not to show any emotions. You refused to be one of the girls he slept with in a coat closet and left behind. Dinner could be a step forward. You just weren’t sure if you could resist that charming side smile much longer.

“I’ve thought about the mission we’re meant to leave for tomorrow morning. Have you thought about that?” you asked. He blew a sharp breath out of his nose and shrugged.

“Enough.”

“You get to be in the confines of a helicopter. I have to be out there. You got it easy this time Graves.”

“I’ll cover you from the sky. Everyone else will be jealous.”

“If you don’t help, everyone else will be dead.”

“They can handle themselves.”

“So can I.” He skipped so that he stood in front of you, not letting you walk past him. You halted. There was no point in making an attempt to exit the conversation. Plus. You didn’t really want to. It was an easy part of your day, flirting back and forth with the Shadows Commander, stringing him along and pulling him back.

“One dinner. Then you can go back to thinking we wouldn’t be fantastic together.”

“Philip,” you crossed your arms.

“One.”

You clenched your teeth together, narrowing your look at him. He waited in anticipation, eyes wide open. You let out a breath of finality, guised as annoyance.

“One. Just cause we might die tomorrow.”

He smiled brightly, clapping his hands together in triumph. He pointed at you, not quite sure what he was doing with his hands anymore.

“Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at 8? I’ll text you. I won’t keep you out later because of work, no worries.” He looked up and moved his tongue around in his mouth. “No later than you want me to, that is.”

“Don’t you make me regret this Philip.”

“I would never sweetheart.”

Thus started the on again off again relationship you had with Philip Graves. You were not often in the same place at the same time which left some things to be desired. But everytime you came back it was a free for all. It was like neither of you had left.

You unclenched your jaw as you exited the helicopter, keenly aware of the cold nipping at your sides. You were eager to go inside and wind down for the night. It had been a long couple of days and you weren’t exactly happy to go back the next day. For right now you would enjoy a nice long shower and sleep the day away. You were anxious to scrub the day from your body.

“Heading to bed already?” Price asked as he caught up to you. You nodded, stretching your neck to the side. You had an endless amount of knots in your back.

“What do you mean already? It’s 9:30 Captain,” you joked dryly.

“You didn’t used to be a lightweight,” he said with a small knowing smile. You rolled your eyes. Your work alongside John Price and his friends could go back years. You were used to the men that had lived long enough for you to remember.

“And you used to only smoke once a day. You’ll get cancer Price.”

“If cancer takes me out after all those shots at me, I deserve to go.” You nudged him and gave him a nod as you split ways. You walked up the stairs to your small room. You would’ve gone home to your apartment if you had the time but right now the dorm like space would have to do. You needed sleep more than you needed comfortability.

You opened up the door and were already sliding off your shoes when you saw Graves sitting at your desk. You had no idea he was back. You thought he and his team were half way across the world at this point but you supposed no one owed you the information of where they would end up. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Graves,” you hummed with a pleasant smile.

You weren’t sure when looking at him had started to bring a kind of comfort. You were so used to a sense of instability. When had he started to feel stable? “What are you doing?” you asked softly.

He stood up, an uncharacteristic gentle look on his face. For a moment you worried that someone had died. He only ever gave you that look in the middle of the night when your faces were even against the pillows and tracing each other's features. At a time where the world was asleep and no one but you could catch him with his guard down. But instead of saying anything he closed the gap between the two of you.

Your breath caught but he gave you his.

His hands held your sides, effectively taking the weight of the day into his palms. He was still wearing his clothes from combat. What had happened to him? What was the emotion bleeding into your lips? Even as you started to move back he pushed his face forward needily. He bit your lip. It felt like he drew blood but you didn’t mind, blinded by the haze of his eyes being so close.

“What happened to you?” you breathed, hand flat on his chest.

“Long fuckin day,” he muttered. You dragged your hand up to his chest and brushed hair out of his face. “Missed your face.”

“Mmm that sounds vaguely romantic of you Commander,” you mused with a sly smile. He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m not pushing anything. I was gonna take a shower. You look sweaty, wanna join me?” He breathed out a long sigh of relaxation at the mere thought.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You got clothes to sleep in here?” you questioned starting to walk towards the bathroom. His hand let go of your waist only to hold your pointer finger as you walked away from him.

“When have I ever needed clothes in here darlin '?” You looked back at him with a pointed look but couldn’t deny the pretty look in his eyes as you pushed open the door with your free hand.

You didn’t speak as you turned on the water too hot. He started to remove his layers. The bathroom was tight enough with one person so there was no avoiding bumping into each other silently, soft grunts filling the room as you landed on just undressing each other.

His lips found yours again. Familiar. Almost as warm as the water you were pushed into. You were pressed against each other, your only stability a hand on the steamy glass wall between you and the rest of the bathroom. The routine of your bodies was something you had never thought about till that moment. You lazily realized that you knew his moves now. You knew his calloused hands and the bump of his scars and the feeling of him sliding inside of you.

He was sloppy, as usual, but slow. He was allowing some sort of feeling to meld between the two of you in the heat of the shower. You held him close and he had no denial of burying his head into your shoulder as he stroked in and out of you. When he resurfaced from your skin he kissed you lazily.

But it was the look in his eyes when he pulled away that made you realize it.

He was in love.

You kissed him again before he could take back his silent words, allowing yourself to melt into him like the water was washing you both away.

“Who’s in the sky?” you questioned, looking up at the helicopter trailing your group.

“Shadows,” Ghost said evenly. You glanced up. Graves. You suppressed a smile. You never got to be in the field together. Sure you had three of the best in the business surrounding you but knowing your Graves had your six made you feel almost at ease. Almost.

“It’s good to see you guys,” Graves said into your earpiece.

“Likewise mate,” Ghost said.

You were trailed all the way through till you were able to get extraction and Hassan. You were escorted back to base by the helicopter in the sky. Hassan remained masked and quiet throughout the drive. You were just trying to ignore the fact that you would get to actually see Philip in person. It had only been a couple of weeks, nothing either of you hadn’t lived without before. But if had started to move towards more serious categories. He was starting to talk about babies during pillowtalk. Retirement one day. A home instead of an apartment.

You parked before they landed. You led Hassan back with Ghost and Alejandro but left when they had him set up in the middle of some field. You waited at the edge of the field as the helicopter landed.

The ramp lowered and the shadows started to exit. You could see Philip amongst the faces and didn’t miss his smirk as he caught sight of you. He walked directly for you, one hand in his pocket. You raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?”

“No thank you? No ‘my hero’?” You laughed, genuine laughter and he returned it with some of his own.

“It was some fantastic air support. You heard Ghost.”

“Ghost doesn’t have a sweet as silk voice like you,” he teased.

“I don’t know, Ghost’s voice is pretty good…” you joked. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the Shadows passing him into base. You leaned against the wall and followed his gaze. He was waiting until everyone went inside. You didn’t mind. You just wished you could kiss him now. The scruff of adrenaline hadn’t left him.

“Thank you for your help Graves.”

“You mad at me?”

“Huh?”

“It’s like saying my middle name when you say my last name.” You rolled your eyes. “I prefer Philip. Or Commander works too.” You scoffed and finally the last of the Shadows seemed to have trickled away so that you could stand up straight to get in his face.

“I’m not mad Commander. Thank you for your help.”

“Atta girl.”

He dipped his head and kissed you, taking your breath away as he did everytime. He held your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he pulled away.

“You sleepin with me tonight?”

“As in fucking you or sleeping in your bed?”

“Both,” he said plainly. You grinned, unable to hide the butterflies that blossomed in your stomach. You had missed him.

“There was never any other option Commander.” He kissed your forehead, lips lingering for a moment.

“Let’s go beat the shit out of Hassan.”

“I don’t think you can legally do that.”

“When have you ever cared about legality?”

“Aren’t we legality?”

You were already working within the 141 Task Force when you started to work with Graves more on the missions to obtain Hassan and the American missiles from the enemies. You had worked with Ghost countless times before and you were starting to enjoy your time with this Soap kid. Not to mention you and Alejandro got along swimmingly. Price always knew how to pick em.

You were on the boat with Ghost that held the missile and you were there when Soap and Graves changed course of the missile. It wasn’t an easy one and you weren’t envious of Soap who was in front of the missile controls.

Graves had stood in front of you almost the whole night. It made you wonder at what point he started to truly believe you were his to protect, like you couldn’t handle yourself. You had to get back to Alejandro’s base before you could question him about it though.

You took a helicopter back onto the ground and then piled into two cars. You and Philip forced the others in the task force into one as you took one with just a driver. You shut the window between the front seat and the back ones as you relaxed back into the seat, still soaked from the rain and bleeding in various places.

You turned your head to look at him. He had his hand on your knee.

“You sleeping with me tonight?” you questioned lazily. He looked over at you with a gentle smile.

“There was never any other option,” he said gravely, dipping his head. You laughed a bit and grabbed his hand that was resting on you. You rubbed his gloved skin.

“You know I can handle myself out there,” you muttered. “You don’t need to protect me.” He looked over at you, silently. He chewed on that for a moment.

“I want to.”

“That’s very sweet but I don’t need you doing both of our jobs Philip.” He scooted closer to you so that your shoulders were touching. You watched him carefully.

“I like to.”

“What are they paying me for then?”

“To look pretty and stay alive,” he said dryly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Alright Philip.” You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed him. The road bumped underneath of you, making you both jolt around the car.

He looked at you with solemn eyes that you didn’t catch. He had never quite had someone like you. Someone he liked. Someone he…

“I love you,” he whispered, barely audible. You looked back up to his eyes again.

“Huh?” He leaned forward and kissed you feverishly like you were going to die in the next moment. You were taken about by his ferocity but countered it easily after a moment.

“I love you,” he repeated against your lips before diving in again. You smiled into the kiss.

“Never thought I’d hear those words Commander,” you mused.

“Yeah, well listen and weep.” You giggled.

“I think it’s read and weep.”

“Whatever.” He was peppering kisses against your jaw. You grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

“I love you too.” He let out a breath.

“Good.” You laughed heartily as the car stopped. He looked towards the window and picked up his gun.

Still laughing, you spoke, “Are we not on base? Whatcha need your gun for Philip?”

“Don’t worry about it baby. Stay in the car.”

“I love you,” you said, relishing in the words, “but no.” You opened up your door and noted you were parked outside. You hadn’t pulled in. The guys got out of the car behind you.

“What’s that face?” Soap asked you.

“Nothin.” He narrowed his eyes at you but Alejandro spoke before he could.

“What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future,” Philip said on the other side of the car. You circled around so you were standing beside Soap. “Darlin get back in the car,” he said pointedly. You furrowed your brows.

“What?” you asked.

“Y/L/N,” he said sharply.

“Graves,” you said back. “What’s this about?” He let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment and then turned around to the men standing behind him.

“Take her gently.” “What?” Soap asked, stepping forward.

“Step away from the gate,” Graves said.

“What?!” Soap said louder.

“You heard me.”

“You’re crazy. This is my base,” Alejandro said, gesturing with his hands.

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it - so I’m takin it.” He said it so calmly. It was like a moment ago he wasn’t confessing his love for you in the back of the car he was standing beside.

Your smile had fallen as you attempted to process what was going on.

“You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service.”

“No no no. I don’t take orders from you,” Alejandro argued.

“Didn’t Valeria say that? Now that makes me wonder what else I don’t know about your affiliation with a drug lord?”

“Graves!” you said sternly, Alejandro speaking over you.

“What the fuck did you just say to me pendejo…” Soap grabbed his arm.

“You’re out of line,” you said, eyeing Graves. Soap approached him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t. No one needs to get hurt here,” he promised, pointing to you and to Soap.

“Are you threatening us?” Ghost asked from somewhere behind you.

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So let's not do this.” You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What the fuck was going on?

“I’m calling Shepherd,” Soap said, speaking your thoughts.

“General Shepherd sends his regards. He told me y’all wouldn’t take this well.”

“He knows about this?” Ghost questioned.

“He put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y’all need to stand down, it’s time to let the pros finish this.” You scoffed, catching the eyes of the other guys who were looking around, catching on much faster than you were. “And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not. I’ve got my orders and now you have yours.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are carbon?” Alejandro asked. “My men are inside!”

“I’m afraid not.” You set your jaw. “Your men have been…detained.”

Alejandro pushed forward, cursing and was immediately stopped by the guards beside Graves. You weren’t prepared for this kind of fight. You were so caught off guard you barely had time to move away from a gunshot.

“I said gently!” Philip yelled. He rushed forward, knocking Alejandro out with his gun. He had grazed Soap from the sound of it and Ghost was nowhere to be seen. He turned the corner to get Soap but he had scampered away. You started to back away, tripping over your feet. Some other men were looking for Ghost.

“Philip what the fuck!”

“I’m following orders,” he promised. “You were supposed to stay in the car!” You scoffed sliding away as he walked closer.

“Graves you’re fucking shooting our friends!”

“They’re just soldiers, they aren’t friends.”

“Then aren't I just a soldier?!” you asked angrily.

“No-” he shook his head quickly, “no but they-”

“You’re helping the enemy?”

“I’m following-”

“Orders?! Yeah I fucking heard!” You finally got back up onto your feet and had reached the edge of the driveway. You breathed heavily as he walked forward.

“Let me explain.”

“You shot Soap! What the fuck is happening to Alejandro?! Where the fuck is Ghost?!” You took a breath. “I loved you!”

He paused. He was pointing a gun at you still. You never thought you would be on the end of Philip Graves' gun.

“They’re all a liability.”

“And me?”

“I could’ve saved you.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“Did you love me?”

“Of course I do. Please just let me-”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. Which of your faces am I staring at Graves?”

"There was no other options."

You didn’t recognize the look that was staring back at you. It was supposedly a jaw you knew well with a scar you had traced before falling into slumber and eyes you had seen above you countless times.

You didn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

He scared you.

You gripped a knife that was at your side and tossed it blindly at him. It hit its mark in his leg and he screamed as you fell over the edge of the railing and rolled down the shrubbery until you landed somewhere hard and dark. You looked up at the sky, the gunshots muffled. It was a dark night.

You allowed yourself to heave an angry cry into the stars. You wouldn’t be sleeping in the familiar comfortable bed tonight.

You picked yourself up and forced yourself to walk away, hopefully towards Soap or Ghost. Tears pricked at your eyes as you did so.

#shout out to izzy fr #its giving no time to die by billie eilish #or casual by chappell roan there in the beginning #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves x fem!reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty fanfiction

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normanbateswife · 1 year

Text

Underground Lab

Richard Trager x fem!reader

Warnings: trager, pre engine trager being a sleaze and an asshole and charmingggg <3, readers also kind of an asshole to match his energy, heavy insinuation to smut. plotless.

You sometimes wondered if the people who built Mount Massive knew how to make a floorplan that made sense. Walking through the long hallways always felt repetitive. They looked the same until you were on the other side of the building, in a completely different ward.

You looked down at your clipboard, your shoes making light clicking noises on the ground. You had to consciously take each turn deliberately, otherwise you would get lost. No matter how many times you left your office, you were bound to get lost one of these times and you had no interest in seeing first hand some of the stuff you were signing off on. Not unless you had to.

You took a deep breath as you walked into the elevator. The doors started to shut but were halted by a hand sliding between them. The doors reopened, much to your dismay. Jeremy Blaire revealed himself with a smirk, sliding in beside you.

“Jeremy,” you said, nodding your head once. He gestured to the button you had pushed. U. The underground lab.

“What are you doing all the way down there?” he questioned and pushed the button for the male ward.

“What are you doing going to the male ward?” you questioned pointedly. You tried to avoid Jeremy where you could. He liked to hear himself talk and you were usually too busy to listen. In theory, he ran this place. In reality, it was anything but him. He just evaded the press and any kind of actual prosecution.

“Visiting the patients. I like to be hands on.” You rolled your eyes.

“Who warrants your attention today?” He cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in his hands. He squinted, pretending it was hard to read.

“Martin…Arch..Archimbaud,” he spelled out. You hummed under your breath.

“Fantastic finger painter. In theory. I’ve never seen his work.”

“Is he the one that caused problems when we discontinued the art-”

“Yeah.” The door opened to the male ward. Jeremy took a step forward but stood in the door when it didn’t shut.

“You still on for that barbecue? Rick said you were busy with work. It would be a shame if you missed it.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be there, I’m sure he’ll drag me. Go to work. Say hi to Martin for me.”

Jeremy nodded, gesturing with his file as a mock goodbye. You let the door shut as he walked away. As you descended, you felt your stomach drop. You hated the underground lab. You hated being there. You hated thinking about it. It made you face your own guilt, not to mention your own mortality. But times called for you down there on occasion and you needed to be there. Not to mention, you weren’t allowed down there for obvious reasons. Women stayed at least on the floor above. Just in case.

The elevator door opened. You stepped forward into the white sterile atmosphere. It always felt like you were in a completely different place. It made you long for the comfort of your desk, something you knew.

“Took you long enough,” Rick Trager said, emerging from the cafeteria. You rolled your eyes.

“I had a job to do.”

“Don’t you always.” You let out a soft sigh and he put his hand on the small of your back. You cursed yourself for letting his touch make you shiver. All of this carnage and you still managed to find a completely human angle. Love. Or, at the very least, lust.

“Is that your way of yet again telling me to take a break?” you questioned. “Because I do your job better than you do. You better watch your back,” you joked dryly.

“Why do you think I called you down here?” he slurred. He gestured to the engine as the two of you came upon it. It wasn’t currently processing anyone aside from Billy.

“Is that you asking for help Richard Trager?” you questioned, smiling slyly.

“Don’t act like you have the upper hand here.” There were a couple of other workers around the room, noses stuck in their computers. He sat down on the control panel, barely even glancing to make sure he hadn’t hit any of the buttons. “I like involving you. It’s entertaining.”

“Bored of golfing with Jeremy already?”

“He doesn’t look nearly as good as you do,” he promised, looking at you through his glasses sharply. You rolled your eyes.

“What is it I’m doing here again Rick?”

He glanced out the window at the body of Billy Hope. He looked as dismal as you remembered him. You tried not to look .

“Need you to process the date from Billy here,” he pointed with his thumb.

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, a whole room of people for that?” you questioned dumbly. “What am I doing here?”

He let out an annoyed sigh and stood up straight.

“Can’t I just make an excuse to see you?”

“Trager.”

“Oh don’t call me that. Only the patients and my subordinates get to call me Trager.”

“Does that make me an equal?” He chuckled.

“You’re cute.” You kept seeing the engine out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t like being down here and clearly there was no reason for you to be. You grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He followed suit, watching eagerly as you opened up one of the laboratory rooms. There was only one man in there and you gave them a pointed look. They left without you having to say anything, packing their things silently. It must’ve been the combined look that you and Trager were giving him. The door shut swiftly behind the employee and you crossed your arms.

“Begging for attention is beneath you.”

“You think too highly of me.”

He took a step towards you, cornering you between him and the island table. You put yourself in this situation. You knew him. You knew what he would do. You just so happened to want it too.

“You coming to the barbecue?” he questioned, smirking a bit.

“I cannot believe you’re having a barbecue.”

“Jeremy’s having a barbecue with some executives.”

“I’m not an executive.”

“You’re an executive’s…how should we phrase this…”

“Slut? Whore? Toy? Or can I say girlfriend?”

He cupped your cheek and kissed you with his whole chest. You pressed yourself against him.

It was the annoyingness in his voice, the smirk on his lips, the sleaze in his step. What should’ve made you hate his guts made you want to pull his hair. He lifted you up onto the counter, knocking over what could’ve been important information and likely dangerous samples. You hooked your leg around his waist and pulled him even closer, if that was possible.

When you tried to pull away he tugged on your lip, pulling it out sloppily. You hadn’t even bothered to lock the door. Anyone could come in at any time. The excitement made your stomach warm.

“Answer the question Richard,” you hummed, not letting him kiss you again even though he was lunging for another attempt.

“I like whore. Has a nice ring to it, don't cha think?”

“Mmm wrong answer!” The game you had going with him could last forever. You knew that. But you liked it. You slid off of the table and around him. He scoffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who needs a label.”

“I’m a girl who has work to do Rick. And other guys to fuck.” You opened the door, leaning against the side of it. His jaw set in annoyance. You had trapped his jealous noncommittal ass. “I’m going back upstairs.”

“Wait,” he seethed. It was painful. You could see it. You tried not to smile. “Come to the barbecue. As my date.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. More of a demand.”

“I’ll see if the executive above me will give me the time off,” you said, shrugging. He rolled his eyes, smirking. You shut the door behind you as you left and smiled triumphantly. What an asshole. You were probably in love with him.

You were about to enter the elevator when he caught up to you.

“I’ll join you,” he decided.

You stepped inside and watched with quiet delight as the doors shut behind him and he pushed the emergency halt button. This time you let him kiss you.

#this is shitty my love trager you deserve more than this #richard trager x reader #outlast imagines #richard trager x fem!reader #richard trager imagines

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normanbateswife · 2 years

Text

Fields

Jamie Dutton x fem!reader

Warnings: insinuations to smut, yellowstone spoilers

It was a good kind of weird. The kind that you welcomed in the morning but it always startled you before you could get used to it. It was the kind that you thought would be bad but ended up being great. It was a hesitant kind of new.

You woke up this morning, as you had every morning for the past couple of years. In the bunkhouse, to the sound of rustling cowboy boots and the bathroom door opening and closing. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the clock. You could sleep for a couple more minutes. It wouldn’t kill you or anyone else.

Then, with a start, you remembered Jamie was sleeping on the bunk below you.

That’s what was weird.

Having the Dutton boy you had been in love with for years in the same room that you slept. Every. Single. Night.

You lifted your head up higher and looked on the bunk below you. Jamie was still asleep. If he didn’t get up soon, one of the guys would throw water at him. You let your arm drop and touch his arm lightly. He grumbled and you tighten your grip.

His eyes opened slowly.

“I know it’s earlier than lawyer mornings,” you whispered.

“Later nights too,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

You were awake now so you climbed down from the bunk and shoved him one last time before you went to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. It was always silent this early while everyone was still waking up, nursing whatever hangover they had gotten into the night before.

You had known Jamie Dutton for years. You and Jamie had been sleeping together on and off for most of those years. It was truly only cut off by his family affairs and him going to school more often than not. You had never been exclusive to each other.

Even when you wished you could.

You never wanted the farm or any of the money. You had just grown to love Jamie and his quietness, his love for his family, and his flaws. He allowed you to help him. It was hard to get a guy who would admit his wrongs these days.

Now that Jamie was on bunkhouse duty, you got to sleep close to each other again and you hadn’t quite gotten used to the pleasant change.

When you walked outside he was already out there, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning,” you said quietly. It was too early to have an actual conversation past the necessities.

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Missing the desk job yet?”

“Not quite. I like the view here better.”

The sun was rising just over the ranch. It was a stunning sight. You didn’t get to take it in nearly enough.

“I think I’d still like it from a penthouse,” you suggested.

“I wasn’t talking about the sun,” he said, nudging you. You flushed, trying not to let his words get to you but you were already given away.

“You sap James.”

He hadn’t been joking about the late nights. There was a football game on that night that was bound to go for ages. When you finally made it back to the house everyone else was settled in, Jamie included. Jamie was on his bed, resting his eyes. Everyone else was making too much noise for him to actually sleep. Groans of annoyance mixed with the pleasant sound of beer cans being passed around. You put your hat down and looked over the couch.

“Whose winning?” you asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Jimmy muttered deeply. You laughed heartily, turning around towards Jamie. You sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Hey pretty boy, you still awake?” you teased.

“I’m so tired,” he groaned.

“Jamieeee,” you said. He opened his eyes for you and looked down. You tilted your head so that you were looking straight at each other. “This is where the fun is.” He thought about it for a moment and looked past you at the ruckus.

He forced himself to sit up beside you. You both had to duck so you didn’t hit your heads on the top bunk.

“Not the bed you imagined we’d be sharing huh?” you questioned, smiling loopily. He laughed too. He looked more at ease here. You weren’t sure if you were just telling yourself that because you liked him here. But he really did look like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders for once.

“It isn’t too bad,” he admitted. “Though I was hoping we’d be closer.”

“I could squeeze into your bunk if you ever get bored,” you joked. He rolled his eyes and looked towards the arguments in the front of the room. Some of the guys were half drunk and playing one of the games where you put your forehead on a bat and circle it, seeing if you could walk in a straight line after that. “But it isn’t too bad is it?”

“No. No it’s really good actually,” he said honestly.

“Good. I don’t want you to think they’ve sent you out to the sea for your health or something,” you joked. You liked having him close enough to touch. You liked the hats on him and the denim and the flannel.

“Oy pretty boy!” Colby called. “You want in on this?” he asked, gesturing to Walker who had just fallen over onto the couch. Jamie shook his head, laughing.

“I’m good, thanks guys.”

“Boring!” Teeter called. “C’mon! You gotta live every once a while!”

“Does this count as living?” Jamie asked. You laughed. He was looking at you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re gonna get hurt,” you said genuinely. Jamie stared at you for another beat and then handed you his beer. You rolled your eyes to the cheers. “That wasn’t an invitation Jamie!”

“Sure sounded like one to me!” Walker concluded. Jamie put his hand on the bat and you shook your head, putting his beer down and standing. You were prepared to catch him.

“Five spins there city boy. Then walk over to your sweetheart,” Colby said, patting him on the back. You could feel yourself wincing already. Jamie put his head down and started to spin. Everyone counted along for him and finally he stood straight. He didn’t step for a second and then took a lopsided attempt at walking. He would’ve fallen over if not for the couch. You rushed forward and grabbed him by the arms, joining in on the laughter.

“You’re gonna wreck that pretty face,” you joked.

“He’s definitely joining us when we wrestle,” Walker said. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re not his keeper!” Lloyd reminded you. “Let the boy get some bruises.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” you argued. Jamie was holding onto your arm for dear life. He was laughing. “I’m taking him for some fresh air before he throws up in the middle of your football game,” you said lightly, still giggling.

Jamie followed your movements and relished when the cold fresh air hit his face. He breathed out slowly and smiled, leaning against the bunkhouse walls. He looked forward into the fields.

“You good James?”

“I love when you call me James,” he whispered. You looked down at your shoes. Sometimes he made you feel like a schoolgirl. It was half pathetic but you hadn't felt like it in forever. “No one calls me James. My mother used to. But I like it when you say it. You make it sound so nice.”

“Well I wasn’t going to stop,” you promised. “Are you going to throw up?”

He finally looked back at you and dipped his head, kissing you gently.

Every kiss with Jamie felt like a blessing. It felt real, the realest thing in his life. Like he could’ve found you no matter what path his life had taken. His lips molded into yours and he pinned you against the wall carefully, cupping your cheeks.

Your arms rested on his shoulders, pushing your chest forward so you could be touching him in every way possible.

“Too bad we have a bunk instead of a bed,” you whispered against his lips.

“Let’s break into the house.”

“Your family's house?”

“My house by proxy. Come on, I had Christmas there. I’m allowed a couple nights in my own bed.”

“Isn’t breaking and entering illegal Jamie?” you joked. He kept kissing you briefly, unable to get enough of you, like he wouldn’t be able to breathe without your lips.

“Not if you have keys,” he whispered.

“Well then Mr. Dutton.” You pushed him off you. “Lead the way won’t you?”

“Not it,” Colby said, chewing on some chips. “Someone else gets to see if they’re fucking in the fields.”

“We can go lights out without them,” Walker said. “Unless Jimmy wants to look.”

“I’m good. Thanks for volunteering me though.”

“I kinda wanna,” Teeter joked.

“That boy would never. Her? Probably. Him? He’s got keys to the house. They’re up there,” Lloyd explained. “We won’t be seeing em tonight,” he promised.

“Whatever you say, as long as they keep outta here.”

#jamie dutton x reader #jamie dutton x fem!reader #jamie dutton imagines #yellowstone imagines

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normanbateswife · 2 years

Text

Pain

Victor Vale x fem!reader x Eli Cardale

Warnings: pain, you technically die and some vague descriptions of that, eli cuts himself on purpose a few times

When you died, you got sort of a cheap power. Victor would get pain. He would feel every single cell in his body individually as it withered away. Eli would get a sort of invincibility. His very skin becoming able to regenerate and recount what had once been untouched.

When you died, all you could think about was how you were leaving Eli and Victor.

You were leaving them alone, by themselves. Who knew what would happen then?

You had been doing this test before any of you knew how you got your powers in the first place. If you had known beforehand you wouldn’t have had your last thoughts be; What will happen to Eli and Victor?

When you woke up your head hurt. You felt weak, sure, from the whole dying thing. But you had a headache. That was entirely separate feeling from you being weak. It was like you were feeling it outside of your body.

Eli stood at the edge of the room, watching you carefully.

“Do you feel anything?”

“I feel like I need an aspirin,” you whispered. “God my head hurts. I didn’t drink any water today,” you said, rubbing your temples. You stood up and Eli walked over to you in two strides. He grabbed your forearm, holding you up.

“Where did Victor go?” you asked quietly.

“He’s right outside,” he explained but his eyes were still scanning you for signs of distress. You took deep breaths, rubbing your forehead as though it alone would alleviate the pain.

“He left?”

“He took a step out.” Eli still had your forearm in his grasp. “You’re sure you don’t feel any different?” You shook your head a bit and looked up at him.

“I don’t think so. I think…I think I’m normal. Just had a near death experience.”

“You were dead. Very dead. Medically dead.”

“Good to know my immune system is better than yours and Vics.”

“That’s not..that’s not what that means,” he said quietly, shaking his head. You opened up the door to the bathroom where Victor stood, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose. He stood straight when he saw you come out.

“You’re alright,” he said evenly. He had the same look in his eyes as Eli. He was looking to find something out of place, something that wouldn’t exactly line up with his perception of you. He was clearly disappointed when he found nothing, his shoulders dropping.

“She died,” Eli said, standing beside you. You nodded.

“Just didn’t get a cool power,” you muttered quietly.

“Do you have an aspirin in your packet of tools Eli? God my head is killing me,” Victor muttered, pushing past the two of you. He was caught up in his own thoughts, his own worries and his own powers.

“Mine too,” you said. “Think that’s the dying thing though. You gonna run some more tests Cardale or can I sleep this off?”

“I just wanna double check that you're stabilized before you leave. Maybe it’s better if you stay here.”

“Not a bad idea,” Victor said, rummaging through Eli’s things in the bathroom. “If you flatline we definitely want you around so we can be charged for the murder.” You rolled your eyes.

“You guys don’t mind?”

“I’d prefer it,” Eli said.

“You can take my bed,” Victor said. He sounded better now that he had finally found what he was looking for. “I think I’m gonna do some homework anyway.” You rubbed your head and nodded.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

You woke up the next morning with a striking sudden pain on your finger.

“I can tell you’re healing Eli, you don’t need to keep showing off,” Victor was murmuring. They were in the same room as you, fairly close, but his voice was low enough not to wake you. You raised your hand, trying to find the source of the prick.

“I didn’t mean to,” Eli said. “I’m just trying to make a sandwich.”

“With a very sharp knife,” Victor commented.

“It still hurts,” Eli countered. “I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t help it.” You raised your head a bit to see the outlines of the two men. Their presence made you comforted and the sudden pain had subsided, as had your headache. You were feeling better than ever truly. If this was the effect death had on you, you should’ve died sooner.

“Morning sleepy head. You missed your 9am,” Victor said. “We didn’t wanna wake you though. FIgured death was a good excuse for skipping.”

“You should’ve woken me. I feel fine. Thought I got a bee sting for a second there though. Maybe some of my body parts are still coming back,” you joked. Eli snorted a bit and Victor hoisted himself up onto the counter.

“Have you seen Eli’s fun little party trick yet? He just cut himself making a sandwich. How convenient he keeps doing it.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get anything,” Eli said evenly. “Or should I stab you, just to be sure?” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh now you gotta show her,” Victor said. “Come on. Slice something open.” Eli didn’t look like he exactly wanted to but now he was on the spot. He grabbed the knife that was on the table and brandished it for a moment.

“A paper cut. That’s it.”

“Well lemme get up hold on,” you said, laughing. You were kind of excited. You had never seen Eli regenerate, you had only heard the story. You moved so you stood between them.

Eli took a deep breath and swiftly sliced his index finger open a bit.

You and him winced at the same time, an unexpected sting coming for your own index finger. You didn’t even get to see his skin reheal because you had raised your own.

“What? That bee come back for seconds?” Victor asked.

“No,” you muttered. “Just felt like I got a paper cut.”

It couldn’t have been more obvious. You and Eli both had your fingers out, showing them for different reasons. Inadvertently for the same reason.

There were a couple moments of silence as pieces fit together in everyone's heads, separately. Eli cleared his throat and then broke his own promise and cut himself again, this time on his arm. You winced, grabbing yours. Same place, even the same arm.

“Oh shit,” Victor muttered. “What, your power is to feel other people's pain?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you said, slightly disappointed. That wasn’t exactly a defensive power. “Eli hit Victor.”

Eli didn’t even hesitate a moment and gave his friend a firm hit on the shoulder. Victor grabbed his arm and gave you both a look. You had felt it.

“I can’t feel the impact but I can feel the sting. Like Eli hit me.”

“Fascinating,” Eli muttered. “Do you think it’s whoever you're closest to?”

“Then I wouldn’t feel Victor's pain.”

He nodded a bit.

“Would it be awful of us to hit whoever comes down the hallway?” you asked quietly. Victor was already leaving the room. Thankfully it wasn’t someone you knew but it seemed to be someone Eli did. He waved, flashing that charming smile and then gave him a firm, uncharacteristic, high five. You felt that sting in your hand. Victor slapped the boys back as though he was seeing an old chum.

That was interesting.

Nothing to that.

Eli was eyeing you and you gently shook your head.

After very quick goodbyes you rushed back into their room.

“So what? It’s not other people?”

“Maybe it’s just friends?” you suggested.

“Well if my theory is correct,” Eli started, “it would be the last thing you thought of before you died.”

“What theory?” you asked.

“I’ll explain it later. Just…what was the last thing you thought? The thing that got you through to surviving.” You shrugged.

“My thoughts were kind of jumbled in the moment honestly. I remember wanting to live and not wanting to leave you two dolts behind. I remember thinking about you guys.”

Eli leaned back on the back of his feet.

“You can feel us,” he concluded. Victor was quiet a moment.

“I wonder if you can feel everything, from whatever distance,” Victor murmured. “If it’s just us.”

“That’s a lot of variables to be tested,” Eli said. “But it’s…it’s kind of sweet.” You rolled your eyes.

“It was just instinct. Plus, it’s not a very good power. Unless one of you decides to go off and lose your mind or something, I won’t even need to know what you’re feeling.”

#victor vale x fem!reader #victor vale x reader #eli ever x reader #eli cardale x reader #eli cardale x fem!reader #victor vale x reader x eli cardale #victor vale x fem!reader x eli ever

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