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xxavengingangelxx · 5 months

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Somewhere Only We Know 3/?

Part threeeee! I feel kind iffy about this one. Smurt starts so MDNI! 18+ I feel like the smut is not my best work but there will definitely be more smut in the future chapters :)

Taglist! @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you'd like to be added, lemme know! ;)

Val feels like she has no choice but to return to Shadow Company for numerous reasons.

EDIT: Forgot to add! Q and A. Will Graves get more affectionate? I've gotten that question a LOOOT. Yes. But like all men he just found out and is a little overwhelmed 😉

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Price excused himself to take a phone call. Someone had called him three times back-to-back.

You knew who it was didn’t you?

Price wasn’t allowed to wander off very far. That small wing of the hospital you were in had been sealed off. No one enters or exits except for the police and the military.

Your suspicion was confirmed so were you really surprised when you heard Graves’s voice on the other end of that phone? Years of explosions and gunfire didn’t allow Price to turn the volume low enough that your younger, less exposed ears couldn’t pick it up. And because of how close the perimeter of that hospital wing was you heard every…word.

“Price,” Graves’s voice was tight, on-edge, dangerous and you wondered if someone had pissed him off right before.

“Graves,” Price spat back. “Was beginnin’ ta think Laswell had finally approved that airstrike you were nothin’ but ashes.”

“Haha,”

“Sorry,” Price added, “but I constant’ly fantasize about ya dying.”

“Knock this shit off,” Graves warned. “You have two people I’m interested in.” Graves paused before adding, “One I haven’t quite met yet.”

Price’s silence told you he was in shock.

Why did Graves sound so fucking terrifying today?

“Bloody ‘ell,” Price gasped. “How’d you—”

“I have eyes everywhere,” Graves said darkly. “A thing you might not know about southern culture, ya Brit. We like to keep our families together.”

“And you see Val as family? She’s not your wife ya fuckin’ psycho’.”

“No, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

And you don’t know why that line made your breath catch in your throat. You knew Graves was obsessed with you but what exactly did he mean by that?

“You’re such a sick fuck,”

“Get her back to me.”

“I can’t override an arrest warrant,” Price shot back.

“Figure it out,” Graves snapped. “Or Makarov wins and World War III starts. I have the money and the connections to hide me and my family. Do you?”

You didn’t know you were still crying until the tears rolled down your face as a female soldier (no, not a police officer but a soldier) patted you down. The UK military was pissed enough to detain you because you’d released the codes to 141’s homing beacons. You had denied torture and refused to say anything against Graves or Shepherd. So they saw it as you betrayed 141 and willingly gave them up. You and Graves had worked together that night, hadn’t you? At least that’s what it looked like on the outside looking in. All the digging they’d done had revealed hushed secrets of how you two had been inappropriately involved with each other pretty much since you’d met.

You had mugshots taken for the first time in your life. They took pictures of every visible scar. You wondered why this wasn’t done at the detention facility and you were told it was in case you or someone who fancied you just happened to bust you out from the facility or even got to you before you even got there. So they’d have pictures of you to show the world and help re-capture you.

You were given a bulletproof vest because you’d made the news and had been labeled a traitor. You were loathed. There had been threats on your life. The news loves making people look horrible don’t they? You wondered if the news knew about your situation. Graves knew. And you really didn’t know how to feel about that. You couldn’t even get away from him by being arrested and detained.

You were never going to get away from Graves were you? You didn’t exactly hate it, though. But it also scared you, didn’t it?

You were chained like you were some outlaw (you kinda were though, weren’t you?). The fact that you could pick handcuffs and liked swing at authority figures had gotten around and so your cuffs were anchored to a chain around your waist. Not too tight. They didn’t want you, a sue-happy American, to sue them if you just so happened to lose that pregnancy.

“You’re really gonna let yourself get locked up instead of sayin’ somethin’, anythin’ against that son of a bitch?” Price asked.

“Just watch out for Graves and Shepherd, Captain,” you stated. “He might like me. But he won’t think twice about killing you. Make sure you and your boys stay safe.”

“You make it sound like you’re sacrificin’ yaself.”

“I can keep him distracted just enough.”

The sunlight was bright and it reminded you of how much you hated sunny days. The noise was overwhelming. News crews, people shouting at you, calling you a traitor. So you just glanced down, using your hair to hide your face. 141, for all you had done against them in the last 3 months, shielded you as best as they could.

Soap even pulled your hood over your head and you almost cried at the kindness of it. Also, pregnancy hormones.

It was cold.

You were about to be put into a military vehicle when a familiar voice, a demanding voice, told them to stop and turn around.

It was impossible to understand what was being said outside with all the noise. So you all went back inside, into the warmth of the hospital.

Granted you couldn’t move much. Cuffs anchored to your waist and leg irons. That thin bulletproof vest was tight on you, straps drawn snug. Graves indeed hadn’t been lying that they were going to treat you like a fucking prisoner, a good for nothing. And that was one of the reasons you kept your faith in Graves. You were weirdly bonded to him. You didn’t love him and you were sure he didn’t love you. But it seemed like you both were stuck together for the time being.

Maybe forever. You were obsessed. Maybe just as much as he was. Maybe a little less, though.

But the man here in person? General Shepherd.

“Graves told me what happened,” Shepherd stated. He removed his sunglasses.

“It’s none of yer business,” Price snapped.

“No, it is because she’s mine.”

“No, your Shadow piece o’ shit kidnapped ‘er. And now he’s fuckin’ stalkin’ her.”

“We had reason to believe she was collaborating with Hassan as she was the only one we found. Wandering all alone.” Shepherd paused before adding, “Like an abandoned puppy. That’s the term Graves used. And abandoned puppies need new homes, don’t they?”

Price full on growled. “Thas’ some bullshit excuse ya have. It won’t make sense on paper.”

“But it will,” Shepherd grinned that shit-eating grin he had. It was the same grin you imagined him having when Graves took that initial hostage video all those months ago. “And it did,”

Price was handed papers. What they said you couldn’t read. The print was too small.

“Val here was abandoned by her task force. We took her in, interrogated her, revealed she had nothin’ to hide.” Price signaled at the documents in Price’s hands, shaking with anger. “We did not, under any condition torture her.”

Shepherd looked at you, smirking before adding, “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” you confirmed. You lied. You lied to protect Shepherd, Shadow Company, and most importantly, Graves. Something deep inside told you this would not be the last time lying for them. If this shit was brought to court or congress, you’d keep lying to protect Graves without a second thought.

“Val, ser’ously?” Price glared and if looks could kill, Shepherd would’ve died on the spot.

“She’s been with Shadows for 3 months. She’s mine now.” Shepherd demanded. “Hand ‘er over,”

“She’s not goin’ with ya,” Soap snapped. “Ya’ll done enough.”

“Don’t make me get my boys. You sure as fuck don’t want me getting Graves. He’s pissed. Has been. And when he’s mad he gets trigger happy.” Shepherd smirked. “Now go on ahead and get Graves’s little miss outta those cuffs. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t why ya’ll would treat a lady like that.”

“You’ve lost your mind…again, Gen’ral,” Price snapped. “She’s lookin’ at a court martial. US and UK want her here.”

“Let me put it in simpler terms for you,” That smirk never left Shepherd’s face. “Give me the girl. Give me my soldier or we all lose.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Price muttered from next to you. “We can get a court to look at this,” He signaled at the pages which you still hadn’t bothered to try reading. “You have a choice,”

“I want Graves,” you said confidently.

The police officer, a new one, looked at Price, his gaze asking what he should do. Release, not release? Detain?

“You’re gonna go back to the company that fucked you up so bad you tried to kill ya’self?” Price paused before adding, “Is’ not jus’ about jus’ you anymore, Val. You have someone else to think about. Don’t do this.”

You shrugged. Because it really was. The bond you had with Graves was intense. Plus, you’d stay out of prison. You did have a child to think about. And the last fucking thing you wanted was you in prison in the UK, Graves in prison in the US, and your child in that horrible foster care system. You’d run before you let that happen.

“We’ll get them after all this, Val,” Price muttered so only you could hear. “They’ll rot in prison.”

“Release her. Now.” Shepherd demanded of the officer. “They’ve removed her AWOL status and transferred her to Shadow.”

“You better sleep with one eye open, mate,” were the last words Price said to Shepherd before you walked out of that hospital with said general free of restraints.

Shepherd didn’t say much in the truck. At least not at first. You rubbed your wrists because they cuffs on your wrists had been on too damn tight.

It was you and Shepherd. That was it. You wondered where Graves was. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Graves asked for you by name. Pulled a few strings and got this done because Graves is my best.”

You didn’t say a word. You’d thanked him earlier anyway. Well, that is except to ask, “Where’s Graves?”

“A safehouse,” Shepherd responded. “What’d you tell ‘em, soldier?”

“Nothing, sir.” You responded. “They threatened me with prison but I didn’t say shit. Respectfully.”

“We’ll pull the hospital records,”

“I’ve nothing to hide, sir.”

Shepherd paused before adding, “Don’t disappoint my top man,” Shepherd warned. “He’s gonna be your Shadow for the rest of your life. Told me he’s not letting you go.”

“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”

“He asks you to get on your knees, your response is how low, understand?”

“Yessir,” you felt like he was selling you to Graves.

“Ya ever thought about letting him fuck a kid into ya?”

Your head snapped to look in his direction next to you. Did he know?

“Would be nice to leave all this to family,” Shepherd stated simply. He saw you as something to be used. Was that why he’d said all those months ago he wanted you specifically working for them? A female? A female Shepherd knew Graves had a thing for?

Shepherd chuckled that cold laugh before adding, “I know ya’ll been fuckin’ since you met pretty much. He’s been obsessed with you.”

Was he kidding? And at that second something deep inside you told you Graves might like that you’re carrying his kid. There was no getting away from him now, was there? Even if you wanted to. Where the hell did you think you were going to hide with his kid?

“No offense, sir,” you replied after catching your breath, “That’s not why we—”

“That’s it’s God-given purpose,” he interrupted. “He’d be perfect.”

Who--? Hell, Shepherd was already obsessed with the kid and Shepherd didn’t even know the kid existed. Right? And you didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Product of two of my best soldiers, raised by Shadows, in the field.”

You weren’t sure if Shepherd took your ensuing silence as a form of defiance or as a form of acceptance.

You wished it was just you. Just you going back to Graves, no kid. But you were stuck now, weren’t you? You didn’t think your IUD would fail. But it did. You had less than a one percent chance of getting pregnant but here you were. And that was why you’d made that decision, amongst other reasons, sure. The decision to keep him. Him because you felt it was a boy.

Because maybe while you distracting Graves wasn’t enough, maybe you and his kid would distract Graves enough for him to leave 141 alone.

You just hated an innocent life was involved.

“Did you really raise that much hell?” Graves’s voice from behind you light a fire under your heart. He must’ve noticed your brief injuries.

“You told me to raise hell so I did,”

“Atta girl,” Graves smirked.

You couldn’t help it. You reached out and hugged him, gear and all.

And surprisingly?

He hugged back.

“Good ‘ta have you back,” Graves said, his voice tickling your hair as he rested his chin on your head.

You hoped into a hot shower the second you could. You scratched your skin raw trying to get those tape marks off your arms from when the hospital had started an IV sedated you that one day. You had tape marks all up and down your arms from all the times they’d drawn blood, marks around your wrists from the handcuffs and restraints.

“Don’t make yourself bleed, darlin,’” Graves chided. He’d been watching you through the clear glass shower door.

“I want it off,” you almost pouted.

He was naked when he joined you and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down shamelessly. He did the same to you. His eyes stopped on your breasts and on his favorite spot between your legs.

“They hurt you, didn’t they?”

His eyes lingered on the tape burn on your face from the duct tape pulled off your mouth three days ago. On the scrape your cheek showed after being yanked onto the ground face first when you hit a police officer in the face. And finally, to those scratch marks on your arms from trying to take the medical tape residue off.

You had indeed made yourself bleed.

“Only a little,” you contested.

“They’ll never have ya’ll again,” Graves promised.

And that confirmed he knew. He knew it wasn’t just you anymore.

You got on your toes. The hot water had you both sweating. Your hair was in loose curls over your shoulders and his blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair almost looked light brown when it was wet and hanging on his forehead. Your lips met his briefly before he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively. You raised your hands to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, the strong stinging pain of scratch mark wounds forgotten.

He placed two strong hands on your hips before gripping your ass and effortlessly lifting you. You, out of habit, wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you onto the cold tile behind you, making you gasp and hiss and arch your back.

When you arched your back, you felt him, hot and thick and hard, at your entrance.

“That desperate are we?”

You gave him a lustful glare and an exasperated huff while he scoffed in response.

Graves ran his teeth just along your jawline, making you moan. You caught yourself and reminded yourself to be quiet. This was a safehouse, not a black site. It meant noise traveled through the walls like they weren’t there. It wasn’t like back on base where the walls were concrete. And absorbed all the sound.

“We’re alone,”

You moaned more at his words.

“Lick my fingers,” Graves commanded. He had you pinned against the wall, his hot, thick cock just touching your entrance. You mewled, trying to get him inside you.

So you obeyed. You ran your hot tongue over his fingers as he held them in front of your face.

“Show me how you’re gonna take me,” Graves added in a low growl.

Graves suddenly released you and your knees almost gave out.

You wanted him. You needed him.

“On your knees,”

You obeyed instantly. You fucking loved that despite your delicate situation he was still willing to insert at least a little dominance in the bedroom.

Without him asking you to, you took his hard length into your mouth.

Graves gasped and moaned, throwing his head back and catching his hair in the hot spray of the shower.

It wasn’t long before Graves was on top of you, in bed. You were both still drenched from the shower but it wasn’t like either of you cared. You’d started sucking him off and after pulling you off of him he’d started to work his fingers inside of you before he’d abruptly cut off the water.

Now here you were, drenched hair sprawled out behind you while Graves had bruising grips on your thighs as you felt him mercilessly use his lips, teeth, and tongue to taste you.

You felt like you needed him to totally own you. To take your mind off that burning pain from where you’d scratched yourself so hard you’d cut yourself open earlier, from what you’d learned from your hospital stay, from all the shit you’d been through. So you said those key words…the key words that let him know you wanted him to fuck you almost into unconsciousness, that gave him permission to leave marks on you.

“Graves, show me who I belong to,”

But to your surprise?

“No,” came the growled reply from between your legs.

“What?” you glanced down and the sight that met you almost made you gasp. Graves, his hands still grasping your thighs, his pupils wide with lust, his chin damp from your arousal, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You wondered if maybe you tasted differently. Could he taste that he completely owned you, marked you forever? You were carrying his child. How much more could he own you?

“No, Val,” Graves repeated, his gaze not leaving yours. “Tonight I’m just gonna relearn every fucking inch of your body.”

So after he’d edged you twice and finally let you cum on his lips, he was finally inside you.

And that’s when time seemed to slow down. It felt like you had been apart from Graves your months when in reality it had been a few days. You wondered if this is what addiction felt like. Every time he moved inside you it was like you both moaned in unison. You heard him say something but you couldn’t quite decipher it. Your brain was jelly.

You could feel yourself getting close and he would stop. You whined at the feeling. You wanted to beg him to continue, to fuck you until you couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk.

But every time you’d open your mouth to beg, he’d seal it with his own. And you’d feel him smile, chuckle. The bastard knew what he was doing. So instead of getting rough, he was edging you. He was relearning you and ensuring himself he still knew every inch of you by making sure his cock reached so deep inside you until it could go no further.

“Say my name,” finally came the command. Apparently your ears had stopped working because you knew that tone of voice. Graves had had to repeat this command more than once.

“Fuck me, Graves,” you gasped as his hips stuttered, making your insides flutter.

Graves talked again, but you had trouble hearing him over your own moans and filthy words begging him

Fuck you harder.

Graves grabbed your shoulders and shook you hard enough to get your attention. Not nearly as hard as when he’d fucked you before you were ‘rescued’ by 141. There was a gentleness to his motions that he’d never shown before and you wondered why. Before reminding yourself: you’re pregnant. He was still buried inside you and you arched your back, trying to get him deeper into you.

“Say my full name,”

So that’s exactly what you did.

You said his full name, Phillip Graves, as you came a second time, this time around his cock and felt as his thrusts got sloppy and rough and hard while he came undone inside of you.

End notes: This is gonna get soooo complicated! :o

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #john soap mactavish #mw2 141 #ghost cod #cod mw3 #cod makarov #longwayfromhome #somewhere only we know

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Somewhere Only We Know 3

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, torture, violence, blood. My tags are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A strange man appears on your doorstep and throws your isolated lif into chaos.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Lloyd Hansen, (short reader)

Note: Happy Friday, yall!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like I love Shrek. Take care. 💖

The noise of Beau's whines makes your heart rend. You can hardly focus as you twist the throttle, steering over the bumpy trail as the snow falls heavier, catching in your lashes. You see the peak of the tin roof through the forest and the man whistles, "hold your horses, sweetheart."

You puff out a cloudy breath and stop, the four-wheeler jerking as the trailer clunks behind you. The man grunts as Beau growls into a whimper. You look over your shoulder as the man stands and steps over the bound husky indifferently.

He hops down and snaps his fingers, the gun still in his other hand. "Keys."

You glare at him and hand them over. He swipes them and shoves them in his pocket. "Me and you are gonna take a walk. I'd like a look at your place."

"I… what about Beau?"

He rolls his eyes and snorts, "he's got thick fur."

"Please."

"Please," he mocks, "you ask for a lot–" he points the gun at you, "for someone with nothing to offer."

You gulp, "then leave me here with him. The house is due north. Keep going, you'll see it."

"Nah, that's not how this is gonna go down," he steps closer and brushes the long barrel along your jaw, his eyes drifting as he tucks his chin into his scarf, "if it is just you… I'll need you to warm me up."

"Huh?" You sneer.

"Lonely up here," he taunts, "but… let's not get ahead of ourselves." You crinkle your nose and earn another scoff, "let's go sweetheart, it's cold as a polar bear's scrotum out here."

"Not without Beau–"

"Christ, fine, get the dog, but keep it away from me."

You nod curtly and he lets you pass. You go to the trailer and untie the husky, keeping the rope attached to his collar, "no biting," you warn, "please, be a good dog."

You wind the rope around your hand as Beau hops down and you keep him close. The man waits with narrowed eyes, unimpressed as his breath billows frigidly from his nostrils. He gestures ahead of him with the gun.

You walk ahead of the man, his footsteps crunching a pace behind your own. Your chest swells with fear and the cold aches in your lungs. You don't want to be caught in the crossfire of these two misplaced assholes.

"Slow down, lamb chop," he nears as you come in sight of the house, "slow…." He aims the gun over your shoulder, resting his hands on your parka. He's intending exactly what you fear. You're nothing more than a human shield. "Let's have a look around, huh?"

You stiffly walk forward, hand tight around the rope as you drag Beau with you. The front steps creak as you climb, looking over as you search for any escape. There’s none to be had as the man stays close, ducking behind you as if to hide.

“I’m telling you, it’s just me here–”

“We’re past this, just open the door–”

“Please, it’s just me and Beau, I swear.”

“Go the fuck inside. I got no problem firing through you.”

“Fuck, this isn’t fair–”

“Life isn’t fucking fair so why should I be?”

You sigh and grip the door handle.

“Don’t even think of tryna warn the jackass,” the man whispers as he steadies his grip on his gun, “open up… probably not the first time you’ve heard that, huh?”

You grimace and slowly turn the handle. The door whines on its hinges as you inch inside, holding your breath as the dim inside greets you. Your eyes flick side to side. You don’t see anyone. The place looks completely untouched. No sign of Nick or his intrusion.

You continue inside as the stranger nudges you, "give me the tour."

You let Beau go and point to his bed. The husky reluctantly obeys and retreats to the cushioned mat with a huff. You take careful steps across the room and guide the man around. You check the bedroom and the small bathroom with the tiny shower booth, then the extra room you use as a studio.

"See?"

"See…" he echoes, "no, no, you were definitely lying to me, baby. I know he's around here somewhere and I'm not leaving until I find him."

"Who?"

"Stop," he moves the gun off your shoulder, "you're dumb but not that dumb."

You shake your head and he catches the back of your skull, pressing the barrel to your temple as he comes flush to your body.

"You rolling your eyes at me?"

You clamp your lips shut, "sorry, I–"

"No, you're not but you will be," he lets you go and pulls the gun back. "Close the door."

You shift and reluctantly obey as he inspects the place, toeing the floorboards and checking the cupboards, just like Nick had. Watch him as you linger by the door, Beau just as intent on your unwelcome visitor.

"So…coffee?" He tugs down his zipper with his free hand, "whiskey? Anything besides sewage water would be nice."

You swallow dryly. What's with these men and making themselves at home?

"Can you put that away?" You ask tersely.

"Ah, scaredy cat," he pouts as he takes his hat off and stuffs it in his pocket. He smooths his hair before he shoves the gun under his coat, hooking it in the holster around his shoulder.

He pulls his coat off his shoulders as you strip off your gloves. You kneel to untie your boots as he wanders, leaving his things in the chair as he clucks derisively.

"You live all the way up here? What's wrong with you?"

You don't answer as you stand and strip off your gear. The thought of the cargo outside flickers in the back of your head, that's not important right now. You go to the kitchen on the other side of the front room.

"Bad breakup? Don't tell me you grew up in this hellhole."

"Do you really care?"

"Not really," he stands at the end of the counter as you pull out the tin of coffee, "you and him… have some fun last night. Don't tell me his dick game's strong enough to keep you so quiet. I dinged him pretty good."

"I told you" you snap the cupboard shut, "it's just me."

"You keep repeating yourself but it's not anymore convincing than the first time."

"There's not too many people wandering around up here. Only you."

"Only me?" He spreads his hand over the wooden countertop, "is that so? Girl like you must be raving mad with thirst if that's the case."

"What do you take in your coffee?"

"Aw, sore spot–"

You sneer and turn to put the kettle on the burner. You really just want to swing it at his head.

"Keep talking, baby," he sidles closer, "because you won't like what I do when you stop."

"Milk? Cream?"

"Tell me where the fucker is hiding," he grabs your wrist and jerks you away from the stove, "or maybe… I'll just have to make him come out. You are a fresh piece of bait."

You twist your wrist and Beau snarls. You hear his claws on the floor and grab the man before he can reach for his gun. You cling to his arms.

"No, not the dog," you plead. "Let me put him away and I'll do whatever you want–"

He smirks and tilts his head, "oh ho, baby, why did you say that?"

Bile curdles in your stomach and you shudder, "please, he's just a dog, he's scared–"

He rips away from you and turns to catch Beau by the scruff. The husky yipes and kicks his legs as he tries to crane around to bite the stranger.

"Tell me where to put him, then we can get started."

You point, speechless, watching as Beau wriggles and whimpers. The man drags him towards the bedroom door and shoves him inside, claws grinding into the wood. The door slams and you let your breath out.

"So… coffee?" He turns slowly on his heel.

"Water has to boil–"

"Ah, riveting," he tuts, "gives you time to think how far you wanna take this."

You retreat as he strides around the sofa and to the window, peeking around the curtain. You face the counter in the static silence, walls shaking with the winds, panes rattling. You tap your fingers on the worn wood and wet your lips.

What do you do? Better yet, where did the asshole go? Drawing the wolf to your door then leaving you to his feast. It's a twisted fable.

The man paces along the front room as you drown in the unknown. You hear the water bubble, the burner tick, and the gradual roil build to a whistle. You move along the counter but as you reach for the handle, another hand wraps around it, another at the base of your skull.

You're forced down, cheek to the peelingwalnut as he moves behind you, hovering the kettle over you close enough to feel the heat. You gasp and touch his thick fingertips, pinned and prone. The flap pop up and the whistle quiets as he pours a drop down your neck, the boiling water trickling under your shirt as you exclaim.

"Where is he?"

"I told you–"

He pours bigger splash of water, scalding between your shoulders as it soaks your sweater.

"Keep telling me bullshit," he snarls, "dark hair, the kind of jawline that would make a Ken doll jealous."

"I–"

"Why are you protecting that prick? Fuck, maybe he up and left you… then what? That's fucked up–"

"Not here–"

He tips the kettle again and it spills down your back as you shriek and shake. He lets you go as you crumple to the floor and writher, moaning and mewling in agony. Beau's deep barks bellow from the bedroom as you roll onto your stomach and push your knees and elbows into the tile and crawl.

The man steps on your back and forces you flat, his sole pressed to the tender burns as tears leak out and smear down your cheeks. Beau scratches frantically at the door.

"Baby, I wanted to be nice but you're fucking stubborn as shit," he bends over and dangles the kettle, "next one, I sizzle your hand like a pancake with the bottom– then–" he chortles, "I stick your fingers under the burner–"

"I'm telling the truth! He's not here," you gulp, "he was but he's gone." His foot lightens slightly and he stills the kettle, "he left. I don't know where– I found him but I don't know who he is–"

"Well," he tosses the empty kettle, "you held out longer than I expect–"

You hear a click and the scramble of claws, Beau barrels into the room and launches at the man, staggering him in surprise as he latches onto his forearm.

"What the fuck!" The stranger ducks suddenly and backs up, dragging the dog as he reaches under his arm.

A bullet rips through the wall as the man frees his gun and fires back in the direction of the room. You groan and push yourself to your knees, another shot overhead as you keep your head down and slide around the end of the counter. You sit up as the pain sears across your back and shoulders.

"Beau!" You holler as the man flings his arm wildly, "Beau! Here!"

The dog releases, slipping as he's sent towards you by the man's frantic waving. You reach for Beau and pull him close, hugging him behind the corner of the counter as the man backs up to the door.

"There you are, moron!" He calls as he crouches behind the sofa, "you want me to finish the job–"

The only response is a gunshot that elicits a grunt.

"You really in that bad shape you gotta stick around or is it the girl?" He teases, "is her snatch that tight?"

Another shot.

"Jesus Fuck!" The man snaps, "I'm trying–" he shoots over his head, "to–" another shot, "talk to you."

“Talk my ass,” Nick retorts.

“Come on, man, it was a flesh wound. If I meant to kill you, you’d be dead–”

“Bullshit. You missed.”

You cover your ears as they exchange another repartee of bullets. Beau buries his head against your chest as you curl your arm around him and quiver. Were they really arguing about this shit? Hopefully they kill each other before you catch some lead.

“I don’t miss.”

“Really?” A bullet pierces the door.

“Speak for yourself–”

“Fuckkkkk!” You whine as you feel Beau’s panic pulsing into you, “fucking stop! Stop! STOP!”

To your surprise, the battle stills. You slowly glance over, flattened against the counter as the stranger peeks over.

“Why are you two ruining my house?”

The man squints and shifts his gun. Nick’s voice halts his motion, “don’t. She’s harmless.”

“Catching feelings already?” The other snorts.

“Something less than that,” Nick answers, “get up and go. Now.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say the first time I would’ve just–” The man pops up and aims, stumbling as a bullet fires and tears through his shirt, “fuck!”

He hits the door, another shot follows, hitting the wood above him as he dodges. He leans and twists the handle, falling outside as he groans. Nick appears from the hallway, gun pointed at the door as he comes around. You hear steps in the snow as he marches across the room and fires again.

You stay as you are, paralysed. He exhales and lowers his gun.

“Fucker is fast,” he sneers.

You don’t say anything. You pet Beau until he calms, the adrenaline slaking away as your back roars with pain. You hear a motor rip through the winter swirl, muffled slightly by the distance and trees.

“Shit!!!!”

“What?”

“That’s my four-wheeler,” you get up and wince, touching the bottom of your shirt behind you, “ugh.”

“Could be worse,” he checks the chamber before flicking his eyes up to you, “could be dead.”

#nick fowler #lloyd hansen #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #nick fowler x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #somewhere only we know #series #au #the grey man #the gray man #the 355 #crossover

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