#landing helicopter dock

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy I. Unexpected Encounters

Rich daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 5,849

Summary: You find yourself on a luxurious yacht, invited by your old roommate Sarah, only to discover that her new boyfriend is none other than your very recent ex. Feeling out of place and overwhelmed, you take solace in the kindness of Reggie, Joel's intern, who helps you navigate the ship and offers a sympathetic ear.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of cheating, reader has hair and wears a dress, you meet Joel, there's a few random oc's thrown in

Notes: Hi, I hope you enjoy 🥰 if you're feeling saucy after comments and reblogs and thoughts are always welcome! Ty @saradika-graphics for the dividers

As soon as the soles of your worn-out converse hit the wood of the dock, you know you're underdressed. Your old roommate, Sarah, has invited you to spend a few weeks on her father's boat. But as you approach the enormous white yacht docked at the end of the pier, you realize this is no ordinary boat. The yacht's sides are lined with three stories of windows, reflecting the ocean's crystal clear water.

From where you're standing, you can make out a double staircase leading to an upper deck with a circular swimming pool large enough to land a helicopter in. Men and women in matching black and white uniforms pace the decks, preparing the ship to leave the marina.

When Sarah invited you, you had no idea the vacation would be so extravagant. If you had known, you would have packed something nicer than your department store shorts and tank tops. Truthfully, you don't own anything that would make you feel undressed on a yacht that likely costs more than a private island.

"Wow," you say to yourself.

"What was that, miss? Is there something I can help you with?" The driver asks you.

"Oh, sorry, no, I’m fine. Thank you, though," you answer sheepishly.

"Don’t worry about your bags, miss. Someone from the ship will be down shortly to get them and take them to your room."

Sarah sent a Cadillac to the airport to bring you to the private dock her father owns. You appreciate the gesture more than she knows because even though you accepted her vacation invitation, you're on a very tight budget. Splurging for a taxi from the airport to the Florida coast would have left you choosing between buying textbooks or food when your next semester starts.

This vacation marks the beginning of a massive change in your life. After graduating with your Master’s Degree from NYU, you got accepted into Harvard Law School. You'll be moving out of New York City at the end of the summer and getting a new start.

You worked at a hole-in-the-wall bar to pay your tuition and barely scraped together rent each month from your tips. You lived in an apartment that you shared with your two roommates, Lin and Aubrey. You're not renewing your lease on that dilapidated and overpriced apartment, and the thought of finally getting to quit your job is a fantastic feeling.

After all of the excitement of opening your acceptance letter from Harvard, you notice a shift in the one person you thought would remain your constant through all of the change. That person is Todd, your boyfriend of two years. He dumped you with no explanation the night before graduation.

So when you receive a text from Sarah inviting you on a vacation, you accept without hesitation. You're still hurting from the breakup and wanting to be anywhere other than New York.

"Miss?" A woman in a white polo and black knee-length skirt asks you.

"Uh, yes."

"If you will follow me. Miss Miller is waiting for you."

"Of course," you say with a small smile. It's typical that Sarah would send someone to get you rather than meet you at the dock herself, but you ignore it. You're on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, and you're going to enjoy every minute of it.

As you reach the deck with the swimming pool, you hear a high-pitched version of your name being yelled and you instantly remember why Sarah and you are friends. She has a way of making you feel special.

Sarah is lounging on a deck chair in a glamorous white bikini with a blue chiffon kimono. As she stands to greet you, you're surprised she's wearing high heels. You thought women only did that on the runway–or maybe in certain kinds of movies....

"Sarah! It is so good to see you. You look amazing, by the way." You're not surprised to see that Sarah already has a pink fruity drink in her hand.

"Oh, thanks. Daddy bought me a new yacht wardrobe while we were in Paris. Isn't this bikini just to die for?" She asks.

"It really is." You smile with your response.

"You look cute too. You’re always dressed like you're in a Gap advertisement."

Your smile almost falters, but you catch it before Sarah notices. You had almost forgotten how Sarah can make you feel special one moment and two feet tall the next.

"The yacht is gorgeous. I had no idea what to expect; I’ve never been on a boat like this before." You admit while brushing off Sarah's previous comment.

"I figured this would be a big treat for you. It’s a shame most of my other friends have a fashion show in London. Anyway, I am glad you could make it."

"I'm glad I could make it too," you say, still trying to maintain your smile.

Sarah snaps her fingers at a young man cleaning the pool while wearing a uniform that indicates he is part of the yacht’s staff. He immediately stops what he's doing, brings over a second pink drink, and hands it to you.

"Thank you so much," you say to him with a sympathetic smile. You take a small sip and are sure you will be having many more of these; it's delicious. The pineapple juice perfectly complements the rum.

"Good, right? It’s a Caribbean rum punch." Sarah says, clearly watching the enjoyment on your face.

"It’s really good. I’ve made these for customers before, but I haven’t had the chance to try one."

"Oh, you still work at that little dive bar?" Sarah asks, but she is clearly uninterested and does not intend to wait for your answer. "You are going to love the yacht," she continues without skipping a beat. "Daddy bought it last year; it is much better than his old one. You and I will be on the second floor, right off this deck, with the pool. Daddy is on the third floor in the main suite. He has a whole deck to himself, but each of our rooms has its own balcony."

You had not had a room to yourself in six years. In your apartment, all three of you shared one bedroom because you couldn’t possibly afford anything bigger. The thought of a room and a balcony all to yourself feels almost too good to be true.

"That sounds amazing, Sarah. I can not begin to thank you enough for inviting me. You have no idea how badly I needed this. I just went through the worst break -"

Sarah cuts you off before you can finish.

"Daddy keeps to himself. He says he has work to do or something like that. So most of the time, we will have the ship to ourselves. It's going to be the biggest party. Daddy even hired a DJ as part of the staff after I begged him."

"Who is us?" You ask wondering how many people she has invited.

"You, me, my boyfriend, and a few other friends. Everyone else will be coming a bit later. They’re taking Megan's private jet, so they'll get in just before we set sail.”

Part of you is nervous to meet the rest of Sarah’s friends. People who have their own private jets are not your usual crowd. However, you feel a bit relieved that there will be other people to entertain Sarah so you can find some time for yourself to relax. Sarah is the type of person who can party for hours on end. She always has to go to one more party, one more bar, or one more club before calling it a night.

“Maybe don’t mention to the others that you could only afford to fly commercial. If you do, at least lie and say you flew first class.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend Sarah,” you say, purposely trying to change the subject. “How long have you been seeing him?” Sarah must have changed more than you realized, because in the past she never would have settled for one man. Sarah knows this and flaunts it. She has a line of guys wanting to date her and she likes it that way.

“We have been seeing each other for four months now. He is absolutely amazing. You are going to love him. Plus he's super hot!” She gushes.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” you say with a bit of a laugh.

“You will soon, he just went to our rooms to get his sunglasses. Oh, here he comes now,” Sarah says with a huge smile lighting up her face.

He walks out onto the deck, wraps an arm around Sarah’s waist, and pulls her in for a kiss. Then he turns to you as though you had never met.

“Hey, I’m Todd.”

“Todd?” you say, completely dumbfounded by the fact that your very recent ex-boyfriend is standing in front of you with his arm around Sarah.

“Yea, I’m Sarah's boyfriend. She told me one of her old roommates would be joining us.”

“Um, yea.” You respond awkwardly. At first, you don’t understand why Todd would act like he doesn’t know you, but then a lump forms in your throat. Sarah says they have been together for four months.

“Hey, you should go get changed, and we can all go up to dinner together. We're eating on the rooftop deck tonight.” Sarah says, completely missing the strangeness of your interaction with Todd. She snaps her fingers again at another member of the yacht staff. “Will you show her to her room?”

“Of course. If you will follow me,” the woman says and starts walking towards the double doors leading into the ship.

You glance back at Todd and Sarah and quickly wish you hadn’t. Todd is kissing her again, and then he winks at you as his hand starts sliding down her back. You turn away quickly before you have to see where his hand lands.

“You are in the first room to the right.”

“Thank you so much-” you pause.

“Molly.”

“Thank you so much, Molly. Also, I'm sorry about the snapping. I work as a bartender and always hate when people snap to get my attention.”

Molly smiles genuinely at you after your comment. “Thank you, but we are all used to Sarah and her ways. There is an intercom in your room. If you need anything, just press the button, and someone downstairs will respond.”

You nod and open the door to your room, but room is an understatement. The size and luxury of the room are unlike anything you have ever experienced. The main room houses a king-size bed covered in a white silk comforter. There is also a lounge area with two modern black leather sofas. And your suitcase is already waiting for you on an ottoman at the foot of the bed.

You sigh and throw yourself onto the bed face down in the comforter. It seems like a bad dream that Todd is here, pretending he doesn’t know you, let alone date you for two years.

You were comfortable, and your relationship was secure, or so you thought. It started with little things, like Todd bailing on plans you'd made and how he stopped inviting you to spend any time at his place.

Aubrey was always suspicious of Todd, but you never questioned him. Because you knew, deep down, he was cheating on you, but you went on pretending because it was easier than losing him. You didn’t have to pretend for very long because he dumped you the day before graduation.

You cried for hours on the living room couch as Lin and Aubrey comforted you and supplied you with all the ice cream you could eat. You picked yourself up the morning of graduation and packed away your pain. You would not let Todd, or anyone else, see you beaten; you thought maybe that would make you a good lawyer one day.

You walked across that stage and accepted your diploma with a giant smile on your face because you truly earned it and right after the ceremony, you let yourself fall into misery again.

And now he's dating Sarah.

Sarah had said that they’d started dating four months ago, which meant that Todd was definitely cheating on you. It was just hard to believe that he cheated on you with one of your friends.

Sure, Sarah and you fell in and out of touch as your lives drifted apart, but it still made the betrayal hurt more.

During college, you were very different people. Sarah attended NYU for the party life and never missed an opportunity to go out and have fun. You spent most of your time studying to ensure you didn’t lose your scholarship. Even though you had your differences, you got along for the most part, and while you were living together, you became close friends.

You allow yourself a few more moments of self-pity before pulling yourself off of the bed. You didn't let Todd see you beat at graduation, and you aren't going to let him see it now.

You make your way to your suitcase and roll it into the connecting ensuite. As you walk through the double doors of the ensuite, you are shocked again by the sheer size of the yacht. You take your time unpacking each item of clothing and hanging it in the closet. You pick out a black knee-length dress, which is the nicest thing you have brought, and change into it.

Just as you finish touching up your makeup, you hear the click of the door latch opening.

“Hey, are you ready? Everyone else is here, and we are all heading up to eat,” Sarah says while she bursts into the room without bothering to knock.

“Yeah. Perfect timing. I just finished.” You walk out of the ensuite and see her standing in a floor-length dress made of silvery fabric. She takes one quick look at you outfit and says nothing, obviously unimpressed by your simple choice. You follow her out into the hallway, where three women and four men in black tie attire talk among themselves.

Sarah makes quick introductions, but the only name you catch is that of the tall brunette woman, Megan, the one with the private jet. Your hands are already starting to sweat, and you're honestly grateful that most of the other guests ignore your presence as waiters bring plate after plate of food and set it in front of each of you.

“Megan, how was the flight here?” Sarah asks.

"Oh, it's the worst. My mom has to take the big jet to Japan for a business conference, so I'm stuck with the little jet. Hudson nearly hit his head on the ceiling because it's so small." Megan throws a seductive look at the tall man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you didn't have the worst flight. She had to fly commercial," Sarah says, gesturing towards you.

"You poor thing. I've never flown commercial, but I hear it's horrible. Do you really have to sit next to strangers?"

"Yeah, you do, but not in first class." You say remembering that Sarah had told you to say you flew first class even though you didn't.

It's typical of Sarah to throw you under scrutiny when you had planned to avoid talking about how you got here or anything else to do with money, for that matter. Luckily, the one dig at you seems to be enough for Sarah because she gets distracted by Todd.

"You are the sexiest woman I have ever met," Todd says as he runs his hand up Sarah's arm.

"You two are the absolute cutest," the woman sitting on your right says.

"Oh, I know, right? It's so fun that we are equally numbered men to women," Megan says, throwing another look at Hudson, who seems completely clueless.

You eat your meal in silence and try your best not to watch Sarah and Todd. However, it's hard to ignore the fact that Todd has abandoned his meal and is instead licking Sarah's neck. She laughs, runs her fingers into his mess of brown curls, and pulls his face to hers.

You make it all the way to dessert before you can't take it anymore and quietly slip away from the table. Of course, no one sees you leave; if they did, no one cares.

As the door closes behind you, a few tears start streaming down your face. You have to get back to your room before anyone finds you crying. You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and do your best to keep any more from falling.

The day's events have finally hit you in full force. You're angry and hurt that Todd has been cheating on you the whole time, and now you have to spend your vacation watching him and Sarah together.

You're so distracted in your thoughts that you run straight into a rock-solid chest.

You had hoped you just ran into one of the yacht's staff members, but you quickly realize the man is not wearing the uniform. All you can see is a suit jacket. You pull back and continue to try to hold back your tears.

"I am so sorry; I should have been watching where I was going," you say while trying to plan your escape.

When you look up at who you ran into, you're met with the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen.

"Are you okay, Miss?”

—♡—

Joel is walking down the hallway on his way to the upper deck when he hears a loud burst of laughter. He sighs in frustration; this was supposed to be a quiet escape from work, yet his yacht is full of a bunch of twenty-year-olds.

He had invited Sarah, as a way to spend a bit of time together this summer. Then Sarah asked if she could bring her new boyfriend along, and he agreed without much thought.

Joel met Todd earlier in the week over breakfast, and he seemed like a good kid. He works in finance for his father’s financial firm in New York, so they immediately have so much to talk about.

He is very complimentary of Joel's recent purchase of Explore Air, the second airline that he now owns. It truly is a good purchase, and he has big plans for expansion. 

Joel is impressed that Sarah has picked someone who is putting down roots, and he seems like a stable choice. Sarah has never introduced him to a boyfriend before, so he is taking their relationship seriously.

Having her boyfriend join them would be an easy way for him to get to know him better and also give Joel a little more time for himself, which is probably a little selfish. It’s not that he doesn’t love his daughter; he finds it difficult spending time with his daughter; they aren’t very close. He had only found out she existed fourteen years ago, and trying to connect with a ten-year-old with whom he has nothing in common has not been easy.

It doesn’t help that he has bought her everything she could possibly ask for–for the last fourteen years. In the beginning, he did it to make up for missing the first ten years of her life, but after that, it just became easier than dealing with her when she didn’t get what she wanted.

Sarah is now a spoiled and entitled twenty-four-year-old with no plans for her life other than partying and spending as much money as possible.

In classic Sarah fashion, his agreement to let her bring her boyfriend along turned into her filling each one of his guest rooms with her rich and arrogant friends. Sarah also hired a DJ against his wishes, but after a hysterical outburst where she accused him of not loving her, she got her way, just like always. So his quiet and relaxing vacation with his daughter quickly turned into him hosting a summer-long party.

Before he heads to his stateroom, he figures he better play the welcoming host and go up to greet Sarah and her friends. As Joel turns a corner, he bumps into someone. The woman has her head down, so all he can see is her hair.

“I am so sorry; I should have been watching where I was going,”  the woman says. 

When her eyes finally meet Joel’s, he is surprised it looks like she is fighting tears.

“Are you okay, miss?” Joel says in response. He feels dumb as soon as the words are out of his mouth. She, very obviously, is not okay.

“Yes. I’m just heading back to my room, uh, sir,”  she says as she straightens up, obviously not wanting to be caught crying.

“Oh right,” Joel replies, suddenly realizing that she called him sir, so she must be one of the maids.

He starts picking through his memories, trying to remember when he’d hired her.  Reggie must have been the one to interview her because he surely would have remembered a woman so captivating.

“Before you do that, would you head up to my stateroom and unpack my luggage?  I'm afraid it's been delivered later than usual. Had some business I had to attend to before leaving port, and I didn't get here as early as I would have liked.”

“Oh - I am - Uh -” she starts staring at the floor.

Joel stands waiting for her response. He thinks it is cute how flustered she is; perhaps it's because he makes her nervous. That's pretty common with new hires, but oddly, she makes him feel a bit flustered, which is completely uncommon.

“Yes,”  she stammers.

“Thank you so much -” he says with a smile, leaving a pause in hopes that she would tell him her name, but she quickly turns and heads in the opposite direction. He can't help but stare as she walks away. As she slips around a corner and out of sight, he sighs, knowing he needs to make an appearance upstairs.

Joel walks out onto the deck, where a large dining table is placed and decorated with an extravagant centerpiece. The stars reflect over the ocean and create a stunning backdrop for his daughter's dinner party. He is really impressed at how well the staff has done at transforming this space, most likely with very particular instructions from Sarah.

“Daddy!” Sarah screams as he makes his way out onto the deck. She screams a lot, but he notices most girls her age do. Thankfully it looks as though their dinner party is just wrapping up; waiters are clearing away everything from the table. 

Sarah runs over and hugs him.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says kissing  the top of her head. “Is everything goin' alright?”

“Everything has gone perfectly so far. The yacht is so awesome; I think my friends could die out of jealousy.”

Joel remains silent, not knowing how to respond to Sarah's need to be the envy of other people. He would leave figuring that out to her mother, Marnie. They hardly speak other than when she needs money from him, which is more often than he'd like.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller,” Todd says as he makes his way over and shakes Joel's hand.

“S'good to see you again, Todd.”

“Likewise. I’d like to discuss a real estate investment I'm working on for a client when you have the time. I would love to get your opinion.”

“Of course. We can talk about it tomorrow night over some drinks.” 

“I look forward to it, Mr. Miller.”

Joel continues to greet Sarah's friends and make small talk for as long as he can manage. He makes his exit by lifting a glass of champagne in the air and toasting, “To an amazing summer.”

Sarah's friends echo his toast, followed by cheering and chatting amongst themselves. Joel slips out and heads over to a hidden elevator, which goes up one more floor where his room and private deck are located. He really hopes that the group makes their way to their rooms soon. He's exhausted and can not wait to slip into sleep.

He opens the double doors to his room and is slightly disappointed that the maid he met earlier was already gone. His suitcase was missing from where he left it, so she must have come and gone while he was greeting my guests.

He immediately makes his way to the bar cart and pours himself a glass of whiskey taking a long sip of his drink, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the maid he ran into. It’d been a long time since someone had caught his attention as she did. She did seem much younger than him, though. He wasn’t sure that would be a problem.

He walks over to the screen mounted on the wall next to the door, and at the press of a button, the wall of windows at the far end of the room slid open, eliminating the barrier between his living room and private deck. That feature was one of the main reasons he purchased this particular yacht. He thought there would be nothing better than feeling the ocean breeze and hearing the waves even while hiding away in his stateroom.

He steps onto his deck and could see the dinner party continuing without him one deck below. The muffled sounds of conversation and laughing are the only sound drifting up to him. 

Joel sips his drink and watches the white foamy waves follow the yacht as they move through the water. It's the only way he can tell they're moving as the sky darkens to a deep blue. He sits back, relaxing, and imagines the woman's eyes staring back at him.

—♡—

 “Are you okay, miss?” the attractive man asks after you run directly into him.

“Yes. I’m just heading back to my room, uh, sir,” you respond.

“Oh, right,” he says, lost in thought. He pauses for a few seconds and then continues.

“Before you do that, would you head up to my stateroom and unpack my luggage? I'm afraid it's been delivered later than usual. Had some business I had to attend to before leaving port, and I didn't get here as early as I would've liked.”

You stumble over your words, mortified that he clearly thinks you are a member of the staff rather than a guest on the yacht. However, you suppose you look nothing like the typical guests.

“Yes,” you finally say, deciding it is easier than trying to explain the mix-up. He thanks you and continues standing there, staring at you, making sure you are actually going to go unpack for him.

You quickly turn and head back down the long hallway. You must be headed in the right direction because the man does not tell you otherwise. Unfortunately, this is leading you in the opposite direction of your room.

You take a few turns, trying not to accidentally run into the man again and have to explain that you don’t work for him. You should have just told him from the start, but he startled you, and you got a bit distracted staring at his face.

He has a very nice face and a very nice body, and you can’t stop thinking about him. It isn’t too long before you are completely turned around; the ship is so outlandishly large.

Exhausted and embarrassed, you find a small alcove off of the main hallway, lean your back against the wall, and slide to the floor. You just need a minute to yourself to get control of your emotions, but a door opens next to you and cuts that time short.

You jump to your feet and smooth your hands over your dress.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” the man says. He is very clean-cut, with smooth black hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. You guess that he isn’t much older than you are.

“I’m a friend of Sarah’s,” you introduce yourself, not wanting to get mistaken for part of the staff again.

“Oh, wonderful. I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he says with a genuine smile. You feel at ease in his presence, happy to have finally found someone who isn’t already judging you.

“I am, but I may need some help. I ran into someone down the hall, who mistook me for one of the maids and asked me to unpack for him. I don’t want anyone to get into trouble if it doesn’t get done,” you say, slightly embarrassed. “Can you help me?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that happened to you. Do you know who it was?”

“Uh, it was a man wearing a very nice suit - but that probably doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Not exactly,” he says with a sympathetic grin.

“He was tall with dark brown hair that perfectly complements his brown eyes. He had a concrete jaw that was peppered with black and silver facial hair. His voice was deep, had a southern accent, and he smelled like sandalwood,” you say, picturing the man in your head.

After a few moments, you realize you’ve said way too much. If you could have jumped off the railing and into the ocean, you would have.

“That is Mr. Miller,” he says quickly, saving you from further embarrassment. “I am his intern, so I can make sure someone goes and takes care of his luggage.”

Did he say… Mr. Miller? As in, Sarah’s dad?

“Thank you so much,” you say. “You will have to forgive me. It’s been a long night, and I’ve been so rude and haven’t asked your name.”

“You can call me Reggie.”

“Well, thank you so much, Reggie. Can I ask you for one more favor?”

“Of course,” Reggie says with his signature smile.

“I got a little turned around after leaving the dinner party upstairs, and I’m not sure how to get back to my room.”

“It would be my pleasure to escort you back to your stateroom, Miss,” he says and offers you his arm.

“Thank you so much,”  you say as you take his arm, absolutely delighted by the gesture.

Reggie is leading the way back to your room when he says, “Please don’t hold it against Mr. Miller for mistaking you for part of the staff. He has been under a lot of stress lately and passed the hiring off to me. Since you weren’t at the dinner party, it’s likely he just figured that you were a new hire. He really is a kind person and would have never intentionally offended you.”

“He didn’t offend me. I know I don’t fit with Sarah’s other friends, so it was an easy mistake to make. I could have straightened everything out, but I was a little distracted by some personal issues.”

“Do you need to vent?” Reggie asks innocently.

“It’s just that I went through a really difficult breakup, and I hoped this trip would help me get my mind off of him. It hasn’t worked out that way,” you say, trying to remain as vague as possible.

“I’m very sorry. Was it a long relationship?”

“Two years.”

“Ouch. Well, just give it a bit more time. With what Miss Miller has scheduled, I’m sure you will have plenty of distractions to keep your mind off of things.”

You laugh. “I’m sure you’re right. There is never a dull moment with Sarah around.”

Just as your conversation wraps up, you reach your door. You are so relieved to be back in your room that you could have hugged Reggie. You feel like you could talk to him about anything, and it helps you to feel as though there is at least one person on this ship who has not immediately judged you.

“Thank you so much for all of your help, Reggie. I don’t know what I would have done had I not run into you.”

“I’m here to help anytime. That goes for all of the staff on the yacht. If you need anything at all, just ask.”

You nod as Reggie walks away, and you slip into your room.I You head straight to the bathroom for that giant tub you discovered earlier. You have never been so in need of washing away the events of a day before.

You soak for almost an hour when the water starts getting cold, you reluctantly pull yourself out and wrap yourself in a fluffy bath towel.

You change into your pajamas, a pair of gray shorts, and a Harvard T-shirt. Your grandfather sent you the T-shirt as soon as you told him you’d been accepted; he was so proud.

You pull out your phone to send him a quick text telling him that you are okay. You should have sent it as soon as you arrived, but you forget in the chaos of seeing Todd with his arm around Sarah's waist.

You type out a quick message reading, "Hi Gramps. I made it safe. I will keep you updated. Love you." When you go to hit send, you realize you have no service. So not only would you not be able to contact your grandpa, but you can't update Lin and Aubrey about this horrible situation you are in. You sigh in defeat and toss your phone onto the bed.

Instead of talking with your friends, you use the intercom system in your room to call down for a cup of chamomile tea. You are shocked at how quickly there is a knock at your door. You take the tray and make your way out onto your private balcony.

The balcony is large enough to fit a lounge chair and a small breakfast table. You quickly make plans to put that to use in the morning. It would be amazing to sip your coffee and listen to the sound of the ocean.

You take a seat on the lounge chair and place your tray in front of you. A tiny teapot and matching cup are accompanied by a small plate of macaron cookies. You pour yourself a cup of tea and bite into one of the pink, dainty cookies.

You can't help thinking that this vacation would be perfect if you could spend the whole time in this room. Unfortunately, you would have to come out eventually and face Todd. You could have told Sarah the truth about Todd being your ex, but now that you are sailing, you have no escape.

It would have made the rest of the vacation unbearably awkward if you'd told Sarah. You have to keep this secret, at least until you are all back on land. A flash of shame hits you when you remember the other secret you would have to keep from Sarah. 

The fact that you are undeniably attracted to her dad.

[crazyyluvr]

heyy I've heard your requests are open! Could you do like a Jason Grace x gf reader where the reader has severe anger issues, but since Jason is rlly calm he is the only one who can handle her, and calm her down? I'm such a sucker for sunshine bf! X grumpy gf! trope haha

How to Anger a Demigod as a Horse 101

pairing: jason grace x gf!ares!reader

summary: in which you're very tempted to murder Hazel's magic (magically annoying) horse, but Jason's there to prevent that from happening.

genre: fluff, grumpy x sunshine (i think)

no particular place in the heroes of the olympus timeline, but they're on Argo II.

wc: 1.2k

warning/s: cursing, jason may be ooc, she/her pronouns, anger issues, jason's nickname for reader is pompeii because volcano n stuff

note: thank you for your request anon <33 i hope this lives up to your expectations. enjoy!

short oneshot under the cut :: not edited

The Argo II became more of a home to the eight demigods during their months of travel. Even though the ship would most probably get destroyed beyond even Leo's repair by the time they finished their quest of destroying Gaea, that didn't stop them from finding comfort within the Celestial bronze walls.

During that morning, most of the demigods were in the dining room, enjoying their breakfast. They were all tired and sluggish, since the night before wasn't kind to them. Usually they would take shifts when it came to guarding the ship, but everyone was awake last night due to the mini army of winged terrors that came across the flying ship, which caused them to set down on the sea near the land.

They all slept for less than four hours, and they all wanted nothing more but to add to those hours of sleep.

"GODDAMN THIS STUPID HORSE!"

Well, most of them slept. It seemed that one of them didn't find sleep as luxurious as the rest did that night.

"How does she have this much energy? It's like, seven in the morning," Percy groaned, almost faceplanting into his blue pancakes if it weren't for Annabeth's quick reflexes to hold her boyfriend's head up.

"I SWEAR TO MY DAD'S ROMAN COUNTERPART I WILL TEAR YOU TO TINY LITTLE PIECES YOU HUNK OF SHIT!"

"She's a daughter of Ares alright," Frank chuckled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "Only she can be heard this clearly when she's all the way on the other side of the ship."

"What horse is she talking about? I thought the stables were empty," Piper wondered, not bothering to tame her typhoon hair as she sipped her orange juice.

"THAT'S MY SHIRT YOU DUMBASS — ARION THE FUCKING HAY IS RIGHT THERE — STOP CHEWING MY DAMN SHIRT!"

It seemed that Arion decided to pay them a little visit now that they were set on a monster-free dock. That would explain Hazel's absence from the table, and how she reappeared in the doorway. She turned to Jason, who was trying to shovel as much food into his mouth as he could so he can go to the stables.

"She's gonna explode again," Hazel panted, putting a hand on her knee to support herself. "I tried getting her to breathe, like you normally do, Jason, but she's not listening. She might actually go through with killing Arion this time."

Jason swallowed, wiping his mouth as he stood up. "I'll go handle it. You," he pointed to Hazel, "eat."

Leo looked up from his rubber band helicopter to stare at his best friend. "Good luck, buddy. She hasn't bit off your head yet, but that could happen any day now."

Jason chuckled. "Thanks, Leo, but I'll be fine." He left the room.

More cursing and shouts that sounded dangerously close to war cries made Jason quicken his pace as he crossed the deck to go down into the stables, where he could see flickering shadows of a girl and a horse.

"If you bite at my shirt again, I'll shove a grenade down your throat and use your insides as monster bait."

Jason stopped walking, to see if you could actually control yourself this time.

Chomp.

"THAT'S IT, I'M GETTING MY GRENADES —"

You're thundering footsteps grew louder as you approached the doorway to leave the stables. Jason stepped forward just as you were about to exit the room, putting a placating hand on your shoulder. "Woah woah, slow down there Pompeii. No need to resort to violence so quickly, hmm?"

Strands of hay were poking out from your hair — which wasn't as messy as Piper's but it was well on its way there. There were dark circles under your angry eyes, indicating that you didn't sleep a wink that night. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were balling your fists, and heavy breaths escaped your lips. Jason swore that he could see a little bit of smoke coming out of your ears.

"That goddamn horse is gonna die," you seethed, your chest rising and falling from your angry inhales and exhales. "Step out of the way, Grace."

Jason shook his head, a calming smile on his lips as he moved his hands to your hair, picking out the hay before resting on your flaming cheeks, flushed with annoyance. "Breathe with me."

"I gotta give that stupid piece of shit what it deserves —"

"I know, I know, but you gotta breathe with me first, okay?"

"But —"

"Breathe. In..." He took a deep breath in, sending you a pointed look when you didn't follow. His scolding glance made you mutter some colorful words under your breath before following along with him.

"Out..."

You exhaled with him. You could feel your anger boil down, and Jason saw and felt your shoulders let out the tension in it.

"In..." you closed your eyes.

"Out..."

You opened them once you sensed that Jason was done. "How are you feeling?" He asked you.

"Better. Still a little annoyed, but I'm better."

"Remember what we said?"

You glared a little at Jason, before sighing and looking away. "I shouldn't act on my anger unless necessary."

"And was it necessary now?"

"No..."

Jason's smile grew, putting his palm under your chin to make you look at him so he could give you a small peck on your lips. "You look like you haven't slept. How about you rest in your cabin for the day, let the rest of us handle the monsters and the bird crap on the deck?"

You shrugged, acting like you didn't really care, an act that didn't convince Jason, judging from the way you leaned into his touch. "Sure, whatever. As long as someone else makes sure that damned horse is gone by the time I'm awake." You casted a heated glare at Arion behind you. The horse simply snorted, bending down to eat the hay that you were trying to get him to eat instead of your shirt moments before.

Jason nodded, his blonde hair swaying slightly with the movement. "Deal. Let's get some food in your system before you head to bed, okay?"

"Fine."

You let Jason lead you out of the stables and into the dining room, where everyone was.

The silence that followed your arrival was awkward and tense, like they were still waiting for some aftershock of your anger.

They finally breathed when you and Jason squeezed into a chair and Jason gave you food that you ate in silence, a pensive expression on your face as your eyes were focused only on the food in front of you, paying no mind to the stares of your fellow demigods."

"How do you do it?" Leo sighed, launching his helicopter, which flew out of the room. "Even back at camp, not even her siblings could contain her. That takes skill, man."

Your half sister Clarisse, despite being known for her issues with controlling her anger, could hardly restrain you when someone decided to tick you off.

Jason shrugged, staring lovingly at you, his girlfriend, cheeks slightly puffed from the food you were chewing. "I don't know man. I just do it."

But deep down, Jason knew the truth. You would never calm down unless you let yourself be calmed down by someone you completely trusted.

Being able to make you see through your anger was not a skill Jason had, it was simply the one of the perks of being your boyfriend, and the one person you trusted more than yourself.

And Jason would rather jump into Tartarus than let anyone else have the privilege that you entrusted to him.

[jjkilll]

the one when jungkook wants to take you stargazing

— pairing I ceo jk x architect y/n

— warning | implied smut, body worship kinda, they both super obsessed husband and wives. wonderful husband jungkook.

— song | stargazing - the neighbourhood

— wc | 0.8K

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

Jungkook shakes you awake. “Baby? Baby come on I want to show you something.” yawn and look at the clock, “Jungkook it’s three in the morning.” You say rolling over. “come on the helicopter is waiting.”

“Helicopter?” You ask peeking up. “What the hell Jungkook?” He smiles “Come on baby I want to show you something.”

“Okay okay,” you say as he drags you out of bed. you quickly get dressed and you take the elevator to the roof.

The ride is short but beautiful nonetheless. The city lights of New York never fail to pull at your heartstrings, and with Jungkook by your side, you feel like you’ve won the lottery.

To stand at the dock. “a boat, jungkook?” he shushes you, “I promise it’s necessary.”

You roll your eyes and get on the boat. Cruising the water feels amazing, calming, and light. You look at your hands entangled with one another and that gorgeous diamond on your finger. You trace the tattoos on his arm. “I’m obsessed with you.” you say to him. he smiles, “How did I land someone like you. I’m so lucky.” you lean your head on his arm. “if anything I’m the lucky one,” he whispered.

“Oh look- look up” Jungkook points to the stars. Look at the bright one.” he spins you around and points. “it’s beautiful, baby.” You’re breathless. It shone right over a house right off the lake. “It’s yours,” he says warmly.

“I bought it.”

You turn to face him. “Jeon Jungkook no you didn’t buy me a fucking star!!” you scream. “You bought me a star! You’re the best husband in the whole world. You bought me a star!” You scream again. he watches you fondly as you jump in excitement. You kiss him deeply. “you bought me a fucking star.” you whisper against his lips. he hums and you kiss him again. “I’m giving you the best head when we get back.” he laughs, “There’s more wait.”

“There's more?!” You scream. Suddenly you dock at the house under the star. He grabs your hand covering your eyes with his hand. You stumble a bit. “Jungkook help.” He holds your waist guiding you onto the smooth payment. He stopped at the beautiful double doors. “these doors are amazing holy shit, look at the stained glass. You say as Jungkook opens the door. “Come on.” He grabs your hand and shuts the door behind you.

You step into the living room. The fireplace going and the lights are low. You walk over to the bookcase admiring the records. “holy shit this is original Fleetwood Mac and Bob Marley. What the fuck this is crazy.” You say exploring the shelf more. “Ooh, lemony snicket.” You say making your way to a shelf in the dining room before you stop. You look ahead at a Jungkook who's just watching you look around.

“wait.” you say walking to the other door into the kitchen. “this is…” follows behind. You walk up the stairs. Suddenly every turn is increasingly familiar. “…how did you?” He smiles at you as you turn to face him. “This is our house. You built our house?” He hums walking up to you. “yeah, I took your blueprint back in December, copied them, and put them right back, you never noticed shockingly. I bought a new copier just to get them.” He says you lean into him hugging him tightly. “I thought about what you said about raising kids in the city. I figured you’d want to do it in your dream house.” he smiles. You start to cry. “Why are you crying baby?” He asks patting your back and rubbing your head.

“You bought me a star and you built my house and you expect me not to cry.” You hit his chest softly as he chuckles. “I’m not sad. I'm just happy, I'm so fucking happy babe.” He smiles. You wipe your tears and kiss him. “wait so those records are mine?” You ask excitedly. He nods tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Oh you gotta put a baby in me now.” you kiss him. “I’m serious. fuck me,” you say pulling him closer. his hand land on your waist finding their way to your ass giving it a squeeze. you gasp allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck.” He slaps your ass and you giggle. “You’re just so pretty.” He hums. He grabs your neck turning you so your back is against his chest. “My pretty pretty wife wants a baby, huh?” You nod whining. “Use your words, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Please, I wanna have your babies. fill me up.” You smile, “Oh you’re so fucking nasty, baby.” He says sucking your neck. “Gonna let me fuck you from the back?” He smiles. “Please, baby. touch me.” He gropes your tits through your shirt pulling your bra down. “You’re so fucking sexy. You just let me do whatever I want to you... like my own little doll.”

He pulls your shirt over your head and unhooks your bra watching your tits bounce. His big hands rub your body. He yanks your shorts down. “Bend over for me, baby”

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[whynot-tryit]

Angel of Small Death

Chapter 3

Pairing: John Price x Female! Reader

Summary: The team is sent on a mission, someone is hurt. You doing everything in your power to do your job, keep them alive, even if that means you break some rules and get your ass chewed for it.

Word count: 3523

Warnings: inaccurate medical terminology and procedure, blood, slight angst, yelling, name calling, bullying, lmk if I missed anything.

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

You had been excited about the meeting you had set up with Price, it had been plaguing you for days but it was quickly pushed to the back of your mind and to the bottom of your to do list. 

The base was a mess, rushing bodies in and out of buildings, some on stretchers and some on their own two feet. An informant had given the location of a well known terrorist leader and his men, the information was only going to be good for at most 48 hours. It was rushed, but it was enough time to get Price and his men ready. It would be their first out field mission with you being their medic. Part of your job to get them ready was to pack their med kits, a small fanny pack type of thing in their vest in case of anything. You’ve done it thousands of times but you couldn’t help the slight tremor in your fingers while placing wound compresses inside of them, praying they wouldn’t have to use it.

You’d be in the med bay, helping whoever you could, waiting until your men got back. They would only page you if it was something serious. The sound of the machine at the edge of your scrub pants is playing faintly in the back of your mind, all the times you have ever heard it go off playing over and over again through your memories. You keep yourself busy for what feels like forever, bandaging random soldiers, taking inventory and filing paperwork. It's been hours and a part of you is scared that they won’t be coming back at all. 

They know what they’re doing, they’ve done multiple times without me before. You keep telling yourself over and over. It's like your lungs can’t fill up with air, like your ribs are in the way and a part of you wants to rip your chest open just so you can breathe. 

Beeping breaks you out of your thoughts, its high pitched it makes your lungs shrivel up deep within your chest. Fuck.

You rip the pager out of its clipped position on your scrub pants, the electronic screen flashing at you. They’re two minutes out. 

There’s nothing else you can make of the message, there's no description of an injury or who exactly was hurt. Your feet start carrying you, running towards the evac landing dock. The sound of the soles of your shoes connecting the tiles that make up the hallway floor and your heartbeat is all that invades your ears.

 You finally get to the mouth of the landing dock, there's three medical personnel already waiting for you with a stretcher. It barely takes you a second to take in the scene before you see the helicopter, the wind picks up- venting through the fabric of your scrubs, your hand coming up to shield your eyes from both the sun and the dust picked up by the violent wind. The noise is almost deafening, you can barely make out the bodies piling out of the body of the helicopter. You can see the shapes of what you can guess is Ghost and Soap jump out, but there's one more still inside, kneeled over the body of another. 

It’s Gaz. 

You’re rushing to the side of the helicopter, pulling yourself up to take a look at him.

John is putting pressure with both hands on his side, you can see a bit of cloth peeking out, a compress, but it doesn’t seem like it’s making anything better. You can finally hear something besides the sound of the wind, and rushing people.

“It's a gunshot wound, Ghost tried to patch him up but it's not stopping!” John has to scream just to get his words past the noises raging around everyone. You take a look over Gaz’s face, he’s pale from blood loss and his eyes are staring off into the space between you and John. 

“Let me take over!” You grab a hold of John's wrist, there's a moment where he won’t budge and you finally meet his eyes instead of the blood that's now on the floor of the metal frame. You see something flash through his eyes but his grip finally loosens and you don’t waste time. You scream over your shoulder to bring the stretcher closer and John helps you get Gaz onto it. 

You take a second to check his pulse, and you fight back a gasp when you don’t feel the light jump underneath the skin of his neck. You don’t hesitate to jump onto the stretcher with him and situate yourself above him, your hands clasped over his chest to start compressions. 

It takes the breath out of John's chest. It’s the last sight he gets of the both of you before you and Gaz are wheeled out back into the base. 

You’re trying to keep count of your compressions but the slight bump of the stretcher going over the saddles of the doorways and the sharp turns of the base are trying to throw you in for a loop. Your elbows are locked, the ache starting to settle deep in your bones from the action. 

The white walls and fluorescent lights finally fill your senses and you jump off the stretcher to move Gaz onto the bed. As soon as all the hands disperse you're quick to open up his shirt, his tactical vest removed long ago. 

“I need one round of epi now!” As soon as you see his bare chest you place the shock pads on while they administer the shot. “Everyone step back!” You take two steps back and everyone else in the room does so too. You hear the machine let out two beeps before it administers a shock and Gaz’s body tenses up before going limp again. 

You rush back to his side and check for a pulse, but find nothing. Your hands go back to their tiring position to start compressions again while ordering your people around. 

“Get the machine ready for another shock, set up another shot of epi and get me a heart monitor now!” 

You keep counting the hard beating of your hands on Gaz’s chest while people around you grab what you need and put them into place. “Clear!” You back up and watch the repeated action of his body yet again. Fuck.

“Give him the second shot of epi!” You’re about to start the compressions again while they administer the shot when someone grabs you by the shoulder to turn you. 

“We’ve already given him one and shocked him twice, we can’t do anything more.” 

You quickly shrug off the hand and words. “Epi now!” There are hesitant looks around the room but no one moves. You stop the compressions to grab the syringe on the table and put it into his forearm and press the button on the shock machine “Clear!” 

You know there’s a protocol, you had spent hours reading over them but you weren’t going to let that stop you from doing your job- not when it came to you team, your men. You can imagine the look in John’s eyes when you tell him that Gaz is gone. That he died while under his orders, under his hands. The idea makes you swallow a lump in your throat, the taste of bile lingers in your mouth. 

Gaz’s body falls back and you try in a final fit to give him CPR, you keep your eyes on the heart monitor- praying, begging. It feels like hours, years, where the flat line haunts your eyes and the slight cold damp skin beneath your hands. 

The line spikes. You stop the compressions. The Heart monitor keeps a steady rhythm and you finally let out a breath. “Okay let's get the wound taken care of, let's start an IV and give some antibiotics and fluids.” The urge to yell is now non-existent, the adrenaline is still in your system but you try to calm your shaking hands as you move to start examining his wound. 

—----------------

It takes an hour to get Gaz stable. The compress had been taken out and the bullet extracted- the wound now clean and stitched. The shot hadn’t hit any bone or organ- thank god- but it was bloody, his iron deficiency making it easier for him to bleed out. 

The adrenaline had left your system, a tired achy feeling now taking its place. You wanted to take a nice long shower and crawl up into your bed but you know the other boys are waiting outside of the med bay waiting for news. 

You discard the bloody gloves that were once on your hands into the trash and make your way to the entrance of the med bay. Your eyes make their way across the large area, trying to find John. His hat makes an appearance in your peripheral vision and you turn to find the blue eyes that come along with it. Before your feet can start their way towards the figure a hand closes around your upper arm and drags you in the other direction. 

Your eyes come up and see the same doctor that had tried to stop you from giving Gaz that last shot of epi. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He finally lets you go after you’re a good distance away from the entrance of the med bay. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” 

“Excuse me?” You’re startled by his attitude, a surprised look making its way on your face. 

“You broke protocol, even though I tried to warn you.”

“I did my job, and I did it pretty well if you tell me.”

“Well I’m telling you you fucked up, big time. There are rules for a reason. You’re not special, they don’t just disappear because you need them to.” 

You let out a chuckle. Things with the other medical staff had been tense, you had always had this feeling they didn’t like you. Sure, you broke protocol, but as most things come- this was not the worst way things could’ve played out. “I saved my patient.” 

“You want a fucking medal?”

“No, I want you off my ass.” 

He chuckles back at you, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and anger, yours undoubtedly  holding the same. 

John had seen the man grab a hold of you and whisk you off down the hall but still in his eyesight. He had sent Soap and Ghost to their rooms, to clean up and get a bite to eat while he’s been pacing back and forth by the med bay, waiting for you to give him an update on Gaz. 

His feet make their way to you and the other doctor, who has now taken a closer step towards you, invading your personal space. 

“You’re lucky that I wasn’t the one who hired you. No one fucking wants you here, you better remember that before you go around doing whatever the fuck you want.”

You stand your ground, hands clenched into fists by your side. His insult hit home for you as much as you hated it. The feeling of being needed was much more common for you than being wanted. It took years, many of them including your childhood and young adult years realizing there was a stark difference between the two.   

You can see the anger boiling behind his eyes, his lips pursing to throw out another insult at you. 

“Is there a problem here?” You turn your head to the familiar voice, John just standing a few feet away from the conflict. Your hands unclenched on reflex once your eyes meet his. 

The furious doctor barely acknowledges the captain before taking a step back from you, finally giving you enough space to breathe. “No, no problem here.” His eyes never leave your face until he turns to head back into the med bay. 

It hits you that you’re covered in blood, Gaz’s blood, and it must look like a bad sight to the captain. The dark red stands out against the green of your scrubs. 

You take a deep breath and turn your body to fully face the captain. “He’s gonna be alright, he bled out a lot easier because of his iron deficiency. He hasn’t been on those iron supplements long enough yet to help him and that's why he flatlined for a little.” There's a knot in your throat, it's been there for a few minutes, since the insults thrown at you settled in your skin. It feels like no matter how much you swallow or breathe you can’t get it out. 

John lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders loosening from the weight lifted off his shoulders- hands on his hips. His head hangs low, not able to meet your eyes. You realize how worried he’s probably been, he saw you perform CPR on Gaz, his body limp from the second they pulled him out of the helicopter and he’s just been waiting for something- anything since then. 

You finally will the knot in your throat to go down, it takes up residence in your stomach now but you raise a hand to touch his shoulder, thumb grazing the rough fabric of his jacket. “He might need six weeks minimum to recover but he’s gonna be okay, John.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, your eyes now roving over the bodies around the two of you, a few feet away. 

The small crowd seems to be bothering John too, not just you. You softly use the hand on his shoulder to guide him a few feet down the hall to your office. 

You guide him into the room before closing the door and turning back to him. His eyes have finally torn themselves from the floor, shoulders still loose. “I’ll give you updates everyday if you’d like. Gaz is gonna be knocked out for the rest of the night so there’s not much to do till then.” 

“Is he comfortable?” The question makes you blink, a hand coming to rub the back of your neck. 

“Umm, I did put two pairs of socks on his feet and two warmed blankets on him so he stays warm, blood loss will make you pretty cold.” Your voice trails off towards the end, unsure what he meant by that. “Oh I also left him some apple juice on his bedside, he really likes the ones they serve here- the ones with the peel back lid. He likes them half frozen.” Your words die on your tongue when you see John trying to fight back a smile.

You don’t get to see the warm look on his face often, years of service engraved into his skin but it makes you sort of breathless. Like that feeling you get in your chest after a good laughing session with your friends. It makes your lips dry and you wet them with your tongue.

John’s eyes trace the movement and he finally breaks into a full smile. “I meant, is he in pain?” 

A part of you wants to punch yourself in the face or just slam your forehead into a cement wall. You stutter out a response, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“Oh! No. He’s on some morphine so when he wakes up he won’t be in pain.” Your hands are outstretched in front of you like you’re trying to calm down a wild animal, followed by your frazzled sentence. This makes a small chuckle rumble through him. 

The shake of his chest makes you take him in- in his tactical outfit. The beanie does wonders on his facial structure and the tactical vest- has his shoulders always been this broad- and his waist, the military was doing god’s work with those cargo pants. The sight leaves your mouth dry, like you can drink a whole lake and still not be satisfied. 

His height also finally hits you. You’re a decent height, it's never been a problem but his boots add a couple inches and all of a sudden you realize how he’s already towering over you even though he’s still only standing a few feet away. 

Your train of thoughts continues as he takes a slow step towards you, your eyes catching onto his chest before making their way up to his eyes. He’s close enough for you to smell him, sweat and gunpowder, and what you would guess is a hint of red clay. 

A hand comes up to your shoulder, almost where you had placed yours on his earlier. His hands are bigger than your- of course- covering more surface area than your own. His thumb catches the naked skin of your collar bone peeking out from your scrub top through the neck line. 

“Thank you, love.”

His voice is deeper than his previous ones and you’re praying to god that he can’t feel your heartbeat through your skin, you can hear it in your ears. His eyes are boring into yours, a solemn look, gratitude mixed with exhaustion. The idea of kissing him crosses your mind for a second and you quickly look at something past him, the wall behind him, to get the thought out. 

“I was just doing my job, captain.”

His thumb grazes your collar bone again and you can feel goosebumps form on the back of your neck and down your arms. The feeling causes you to meet his eyes again. 

“You did more than that. You do more than that everyday. So, thank you.”

His eyes harden when he utters the last words. Like as if he was trying to gently drill it into you for you to understand his gratitude. The look makes you gulp and you almost move to look down at your feet, his touch- his eyes- too much for you to handle at the moment.

The hand on your shoulder moves to the side of your face, his thumb on your cheek and his palm cradling your jaw. You suck in a breath, the noise loud enough for John to hear but his face doesn’t give it away. “You’re a good medic, love.” 

He most likely heard the insults that the doctor had thrown at you, his words ringing through your head and you place one of your hands on his forearm, the one attached to the hand on the side of your face. “John, I-” 

Another hand comes up to grab your bicep, his touch is sturdy and strong- not painful but the heat that radiates from it is almost scorching. The new movement pushes you even closer to him, your breathing is soft, a whisper of it brushing John's face- a small ripple through his facial hair. 

A part of you thinks he’s going to kiss you, and another part of you wants him to. Flashes of Gaz’s limp body and the blood littering the metal floor of the helicopter appear behind your eyes and your jaw tenses under his hand. 

It’s like John can hear your thoughts, the images of Gaz and all of today's earlier events registering. He should let you go, say goodnight and never touch you in such a way again. A part of him wants to shut down the idea immediately, your skin was soft, warm, everything he prayed for in his most desperate moments. He wants to kiss you, slide his hands across your body- memorize your curves, the taste of your lips. He wanted to know how you’d whimper, moan, gasp. 

His eyes glance down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes. 

You catch his diverted glance and you feel your stomach flip. God, you wanted to kiss him, but something told you this wasn’t the right time. Your other hand comes to grip the fabric of his jacket, the bit of it that peeks out from under his tactical vest. “Y-you should probably go tell Soap and Ghost about Gaz. Unless you want me to.” 

John takes in the look in your eyes, you don’t look put off, embarrassed or uncomfortable. You don’t hate his touch- but the moment isn’t right. His hand on your face moves down to your bicep, both of his hands still on you.

He sighs, “I’ll go tell them now.” His hands finally fall back and you suddenly feel cold. It seeps into your bones and all of a sudden exhaustion hits you, hunger gnawing at your stomach and a headache hinting at your temples.

“Rest up, love.” John gives you a once over before pulling the door to your office open, throwing you a small smile before heading out, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

You finally take a deep breath in and run your hands down your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. A part of you wants to laugh at how unprofessional the situation was, how childishly giddy it made you feel. 

It would have to wait, Gaz was unconscious just down the hall and you had a job to do and so did John. 

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[multi-fandomlovers-world]

Price, Soap, And Konig React To Their S/O Getting Ambushed And Saving Them

TW: Angst, SFW, Fluff, Mentions Of Crying

Not my gifs--------All supported by Tumblr

Requested By: Anon

N/A: Might be a bit long but was worth it at the end! Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Violence, Guns, Blood

Reblogs And Comments Are Highly Appreciated!!! :)

John "Captain" Price:

There was a small cartel group that had taken up an area in the docks where you, Gaz and John were. The plan was to not get caught, make your shots count and find the Intel where they were smuggling things. Price and Gaz had gone ahead to take the guys up in the front area of the docks, while you stayed behind and took out guys from the back. Some time had gone by, Price and Gaz had gotten ambushed by a few cartel men who were trying to protect the Intel but managed to kill them and get to the Intel. Price called in Laswell and then looked around, realizing you were nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Where are you? I thought she was right behind you, Gaz?", Price frantically looking for you around the boat. "I thought y/n was behind you, sir. Y/N!", Gaz said, not finding you anywhere. Suddenly, Laswell radioed in and said", This is Watcher 1, we got a problem. Those men took Y/N and are keeping her captive west of the outskirts of the city. We need to make a plan to find a way to get to her quickly before it's too late". Price grabbed his gun and looked for the location that Laswell gave him and Gaz. "John, listen, I know you're upset but-", Laswell said, as she began to speak before getting cut off by Price. "But nothing! We need to get a plan now. I'm not taking my chances of losing Y/N", Price said. A day or two went by planning, Price hadn't slept at all. He was running on flumes and trying his damnedest not to think the worst. Price and his team finally set out, finding the location rather quickly. There was a handful of cartels but it wasn't hard getting rid of them. Once they cleared the area, Price found your cell, where you were locked up. Once he opened the door, his heart nearly dropped. You were unconscious, beaten and had multiple cuts on your body. He ran towards you and checked your pulse, and you were still breathing. He got a sense of relief knowing that you were alive. "Laswell, this is bravo-6. We found Y/N. We need an emergency helicopter now! She's unconscious but breathing. We need to get her to the hospital immediately", John says, as he's picking you up and carrying you over to the helicopter that was landing. Once everyone was in the helicopter, you were taken to the hospital. You opened your eyes and saw, John sitting in the room with you, waiting for a response back from the doctor. You moved slightly and John looked over, seeing you move and came closer to you. "Oh thank god, you're alright", John said, in relief as he kissed your forehead and hand, as he now sat on the edge in the bed. You started crying, as he wrapped his arms around you. "I thought that I..I", you said, trembling over your words as you held onto him. "I know baby, I know. You're safe now. I'm so sorry I let you down. I should've been paying attention and I wasn't I-", John said, before you cut him off by kissing him softly on the lips. He kissed you back and cupped the side of your face. The doctor came in shortly after, making John pull away and look at the doctor while holding your hand. "Sorry to intrude. Y/N labs came back fine but she will need to take a couple weeks off until further notice. Will anyone be assisting you Ms. Y/N?", The doctor said, looking at you. "I will be, Doc. I'm her significant other. She'll be in good hands with me", John said, looking at you with a smile. The doctor nodded before giving you a slip for medications. "Ar-are you sure about this? You have to work and I can't keep you away-", You said, looking up at him. "Baby, there's nothing more than I want is to be with you. I nearly lost you and I'm not letting that happen again. Work isn't as important as you. You are my priority. Now let's go home", John said, as he kissed you again softly and you were then discharged that day.

John "Soap" Mactavish:

A small group of terrorists were trying to take over a part of the city. You, John and the others were supposed to take them out and bring in the leader for interrogation. The diversion was set up to be two teams which would be Soap, Ghost and Price, then you and Gaz. You and Gaz ended up getting split up due to a setup that was planned by the group. "Gaz! We got the leader. Wait.. where's y/n? I thought she was with you?", Soap said, looking around the area where the boys had met up. "She was with me. There was a set up and it caused us to split up. Before I could get to her, some of the guys took her into a van and drove off. I could get to her fast enough", Gaz said, looking at Soap. Soap didn't say anything but grabbed his gun and started walking out. "Soap, wait, we need to-", Price said, calling out. "I don't care about the terrorist anymore! Y/N is my priority and I'm going to after the bastards that took her so either you help me or I'm going in alone. Your choice", Soap said, making himself clear. "Understood. Let's get the leader into the van. I will call Laswell and see if she knows anything", Price said, as he throws the leader into the van and everybody else is loading up. Sometime had gone by, Laswell had managed to get a signal on where you were being held and divised a plan. "Soap, This is Watcher-1, we found where y/n is being held captive. It's on the other side of the city limits. We need to make sure that y/n is alive. Stay alive and good hunting", Laswell said, over the radio. "Copy that", Soap said. Soap and others made their way through the yard, shooting everyone who got in the way. Once they reached the door where you were being held, Soap opened the door slowly, seeing you in the corner of the room. His face dropped as he ran over to you, and saw your head had blood where you got hit and you suffered from a few minor cuts. "Soap to Watcher-1, we found y/n. She is alive and breathing but we need to get out of here quickly. Targets have been eliminated. Roger out", Soap said, as he grabbed your arm and lifted you up, then carried you out of the building. You woke up, not knowing what was going on and heard soap. "Stay with me, Bonnie. You're safe and gonna be ok. Let's get you out of here", Soap said, as you were laying down in the helicopter and saw the Soap holding you against him. Some time had gone by, you woke up back at base in the nurse's base. You looked over, seeing Soap holding onto your hand, and waiting for you to wake up. "John? Love? I-", you said, as you began to say up more but then started feeling dizzy again, which Soap held onto you. "Bonnie, I'm here love. Take it easy, love. You got hit in the head pretty bad", Soap as you rested your head back down. "I'm so sorry, Lass. About all of this, I should've protected you better and-", Soap said, right before you caressed his cheek, making him lean more into your touch and kiss your hand. "Hey, it's ok. I'm not mad at you or anyone else and you've always protected me. I know you always will", you said, giving him a small smile. "You know it, baby", Soap said, before leaning in and kissing you gently on the lips. "Sorry to disturb. Looks like you'll have to take a couple days off you make a full recovery. I'll let the captain know", the nurse said, as she left. "I'm gonna take a couple days off and take care of you. No ifs, ands or buts. You are my love and everything". Soap said, with confidence. You smiled and nodded, before pulling him back in for another kiss.

"Colonel" Konig:

Konig's team was supposed to take out a small group of terrorists that were attacking a nearby city. Konig, you and a few others were split up into two teams to eliminate them and get rid of their hideout. As you and Konig were scoping out the area, it then turned out to be a setup. You were bombarded by enemies and smoke, you couldn't see where anyone was. Once the smoke had cleared up, Konig looked around but saw no sight of you. "Maus? Where are you? I thought she was with you", Konig said, looking over at Horgani. "She was with you, sir. I'm guessing when the smoke had appeared and we were bombarded, they had an opportunity to take y/n and two others, sir", Horgani said. Konig's rage and worry took over him. "Then fix it now! We don't have a lot of time and if..if something happens to Y/N", Konig said, before leaning down and putting his hands on a nearby desk. "We're on it, sir", Stellio said, as they began to look for any clues. Two days had gone by, the team had gathered up enough clues and figured out where their layout was and where you were being held, as well as the other two. Once getting to their hideout, Konig didn't hide his rage. Most of the enemies were killed by him. Once he reached your door and opened up, his face completely dropped. You'd been beaten up pretty bad. There were cuts around your face and body. You also suffered from a recent stabbing in the lower part of your chest. He checked your pulse and found you were still breathing. "She's still breathing. Get the others. We need an immediate evacuation now!", Konig said, as he pushed your hair out of your face and picked you up, carrying you bridal style as you were unconscious. Time went by and you woke up in the hospital, no one was in there besides Konig, who was patiently waiting for you to wake up. "Konig? Baby?", You said, trying to figure out what was going on as you sat up slightly, when a sharp pain hit you. "Oh Gott sei Dank Maus, you're alive. You're safe now and being treated for your injuries", Konig said, looking at you with his soft blue eyes. "I thought I was gonna die there", you said crying, as Konig began to hug you and kissed your forehead. "I know, baby but I'd never let that happen. You have me to protect you, Leibling. I'm so sorry I didn't see this sooner", Konig said, placing his head against yours. You pulled him down to your lips and kissed him softly. "It's ok, baby. You saved me and thank you so much", You said. He nodded and kissed you again softly before the doctor came in. "I apologize to disturb you but you're lucky to be alive, even though you lost a lot of blood. You will have to take some time off duty until you are fully recovered so it would be a couple weeks to maybe two months. Do you have someone who can provide and take care of you Ms. Y/N?", The doctor said, looking at you. "I'll be taking care of her. I'm her significant other. She'll be in safe hands with me", Konig said. The doctor nodded, giving Konig the note that you'd be out for a while. "Baby, you don't have to do that. You have to work and-", you said, before Konig kissed you again softly. "Maus, you are more important than work. Plus, I'd rather be at home with you, taking care of you than being at work. Now, let's go home, darling", Konig said, with a small smile. That day, you went home and it was lovely having him home again for awhile.

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[gardens-light]

Rekindled Love

It took years for Chicago to be rebuilt back to its former glory. Many lives were lost- human and machine. People begun to salvage the alien technology like it was an Easter Egg hunt, taking anything and everything they could carry, before the authorities got hold of the reminats.

While large companies and government bodies captured any remaining Transformers- Autobot or Deceptions. Alive or offline, they were taken to be... well it was anyone's guess. Working with your team has caused a war within yourself. Battling thoughts of who's right or wrong in this hunt against the Transformers. And tonight has made that a whole lot harder...

Content: Events are based on 'Transformers- Age of Extinction.' Minor spoilers (have tried to minimize). Kinda 'Reader insert.' Course language. Just cute scenes and a simple kiss.

Word count- 2,670. (May be less due to edits and ending changes)

"Push right! Push right!"

"C'mon guys lets roll!"

"Take the beach, nice and easy."

Following your squad along the docks, weapon in hand and night vision goggles aiding your sight. Multiple ships empty, some confused citizens gave the military raised eyebrows and puzzle expressions as they went on with their nightshift.

Helicopters broke the silence within the still night air. Footsteps of Squad 1 and 2 echoed through the empty ships as they boarded. Carefully taking position and aiming their guns at a large cargo ship.

Multiple voices scratched out of your radio, as you rested your head against a wall. The rest of your squad venturing further and spreading out through the second level.

"Wake up soldier! No sleeping on the job!"

A harsh voice came to your ears, companied by a sudden smack to your back. Barely feeling it through the padded armour.

"Apologies, sir. Just need a minute-"

"Vipers. Eagle in sight. Cleared hot. Location, top deck."

"Copy that Sky Eyes." Your commanding officer looked over his shoulder. Gazing at you briefly before carefully backtracking to you. "You ok?"

Hearing the sound of his receiver being turned off, you released a heavy sigh. "I just... can't believe this is happening"

"We've had this convocation soldier" he removed his goggles and face covering, gazing at you with a disapproving look. "Believe it. They're the ones who started this. All of this."

Pulling yourself together, brushing the tears away from your eyes. As you avoided his gaze. Officer Ryan placed a hand upon your shoulder, trying to give you a comforting smile.

"I understand some things can get a little rough. We've lost everything to these alien scum-"

"Blow steel!" yelled the general's voice over Ryan's radio.

'Boom!'

The sound of an explosive shook the cargo ship, followed by the yells of a mechanical voice in pain.

Ratchet!...

Chaos and all hell broke loose.

Gunfire was released from heavy duty vehicles and helicopters. Voices shouting over one another in a scratchy tone from the radio on your chest.

"Hit him! Hit him!" Ryan repeated into his receiver, as he ran towards the rest of the squad with you trailing behind.

Missiles fired from the helicopters above. You and Ryan reached the concrete dock, your eyes widening as the Autobot leaped from the cargo ship, transforming into an rescue Hummer, just before landing upon the road on all four wheels.

"He's on the run! He's on the run!" Ryan yelled into his receiver.

A military Hummer screeched to a halt beside you. Ryan immedictly climbed into the vehicle, while you jumped into the backseat.

"Take down that machine! Don't let him get away!"

Gunfire continued to rain down onto the Autobot from all angles. Clutching onto your weapon, while your eyes closed tightly. Trying to fight through the headache that begun to build at your temples.

This is how it needs to be. This is how it needs to be. The thought kept rolling around in your head.

"No! Please!" the sound of Ratchet's painful pleas' ached your heart. "Hold your fire. Please, hold your fire."

His pleas continued as the military surrounded the Autobot. All vehicles came to abrupt halt, more soldiers stepping out of the cars and holding a steady aim at Ratchet.

Following everyone's lead and coming close to the injured alien. Feeling like each step you took became more difficult.

"Can you not see I've been injured?-"

"Box it in! Box it in!" Ryan's voice yelled over the Autobot.

"I'm Medical Officer Ratchet! I'm a friend!"

Lowering your weapon, moving your fingers away from the trigger as you tried to reflex them. Attempting to stretch out the building stiffness and hoping a little movement would move the leather away from your sweaty skin.

Blinking away the tears, as Ratchet fell onto his behind. Trying to shift his massive body into a small defensive position, while placing his servos over the opening of where his leg should be.

"I'm an Autobot!-"

"Then why did you run?" Ryan challenged with a cocky smile.

"Optimus sent a distress message."

Ratchet touched his radio, allowing the message to play through. "Calling all Autobots. We are under targeted attack. Cease all contact with humans."

Feeling suffocated, pulling down your face covering as you tried to take deep steady breathes.

"We're all hiding." Ratchet explained, "All Autobots are being hunted. We're all in danger."

"I lost a sister in Chicago. You'll get no sympathy from me."

The gentle blue of Ratchet's optics lowered to the ground. Feeling like it was only you whom saw the robot's face shift into sadness, while Ryan gave the Autobot daggered stares.

"Alright... release the hooks! I want this piece of junk torn apart!-"

"What?" Ratchet quickly gazed around him. Groans escaping his mouth, as soldiers fired the grappling hooks from the back of their utes. "Please! Don't do this! Don't-ah!"

'Clang!'

"Who the fuck threw those smoke grenades?"

The hiss of smoke leaving two canisters filled the air. Disrupting everyone's view of the Autobot. The sound of cable wires breaking as the vehicles attempted to pull the robot apart.

"Open fire! Open fire! Don't let that thing get away!" Ryan barked.

"Stop! What's wrong with you humans?" Ratchet groaned. As he pulled the hooks out of body and quickly making his escape.

Through the smoke, you saw the Autobot crawl and leap away from the scene, as you remained rooted to the spot. Your body frozen in place with tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Ryan shouted as the smoke slowly dispersed.

Everything came to a stand still, silence briefly falling before Ryan's frustrated yells disturbed the air.

You flinched as his fist slammed against the hood of a nearby car.

"Search the grounds! Spread out!" His booming voice begun to drum right through you. "It's injured so it can't be far! And search for any allies! I want to know where the fuck those smoke grandates came from!"

Everyone quickly dispersed. Running to nearby buildings and vehicles screeching their way back up the roads. Helicopters scouted the large docks.

Steadying your breathing as you watched Ryan approach you. Hiding the empty canisters into your back pocket.

"Officer Y/N!"

"Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. Just... Just got shaken up for a moment."

A low groan rumbled in his throat, as his daggers of disapproval stared right through you. "Pick up your feet, soldier. Now isn't the time to get emotional."

You speechlessly nodded. Turning on your heel, and following the green puddles of liquid...

---

"This is Ratchet, Autobots come in. Is anyone there?"

Pain lingered in his voice as it echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse.

"I'm heavily injured. Please send aid. Can anyone hear me?"

Climbing over rubble as you followed the sound of his voice. Using your torch to find the injured Autobot.

A heavy sigh left Ratchet as the radio static continued to buzz. The EMP that the soldiers dispersed an hour ago affected his communications, but thankfully it also affected theirs.

The sound of loose rubble snapped him out of his daze, quickly looking up and scanning his surroundings. Using the headlights sticking out of his shoulder plate to burn the darkness away. Ratchet activated his arm cannon, carefully studying for any movement within the shadows.

All was silent for a painful long minute.

Another sigh left him, as he lowered his arm. Retracting the cannon back under his plating and trying to reach out for his dismembered limb.

"Oh shit!"

Losing your footing and stumbling down the large pile of rubble. Ratchet flinched away from you, as you fell onto your knees before him.

"Ouch... I'm going to feel that in the morning."

The Autobot carefully studied you, as you got back onto your feet. Brushing the dust and dirt off yourself, feeling his blue optics gazing down at you.

As you met his gaze, you quickly put your hands up. "I won't hurt you"

Ratchet cocked his head to the side, as you carefully disarmed. Placing all weapons on the floor and gently kicking them away. Before finally removing your headgear.

Ratchet's optics widened as your hair fell out of the helmet.

"Y/N...?"

Somehow the pain in his voice was worse than before. Squeezing it's already tightening grip around your achy heart.

"Y/N... why? We used to be friends. You fought alongside us."

"None of this was supposed to happen-"

"And what was 'supposed' to happen?"

His challenging tone caused you to fall silent. Avoiding each others stares for a uncomfortable moment.

Ratchet's scans picked up your slow heartbeat and uneven breath. His optics studied your tearstained face.

"You've been crying..."

"No... No. I'm fine."

A saddened expression fell across his face, "you don't need to-"

"Let's get you fixed up." You said braving a warm smile. Taking a few deep breaths, attempting to pull yourself together. "It won't be long till someone figures out I've been gone for too long."

Ratchet noticed the semi-quick pace of your speech, trying to hide the fact that your voice was breaking.

Pulling up your sleeves as you approached his severed limb. Being cautious of the spontaneous sparks spitting out of the live wires, as you examined the opening.

"You've lost a lot of fluid. But I'm sure there's a way to temporarily put you back together. Well... hold you long enough till you reach Optimus anyway."

You looked around the warehouse as you lowered your backpack onto the floor. "There must be something around here that could help-"

"Y.N..." Ratchet groaned as he tried to shift his position.

"Stay sitting down. Further movement would cause more injury-"

"Why?" He spluttered, turning his head away from you as he coughed up some fluid. "Why are you helping me?"

You reached out to him. Ratchet's spark skipping a beat as he gently allowed your hand to cradle one of his digits.

"I don't expect you to forgive me." Your voice slowly returned to the friendly tone the Autobot once knew and loved. "But you're my friend Ratchet. We shared blood, sweat and precious metal together back at N.E.S.T, and no matter how hard I try or convince myself otherwise. I just... I just can't forget what I shared with you- with the Autobots."

Resting your forehead against the back of his servos, Ratchet begun to feel a little warm under his plating. Your shining eyes staring into his blue optics caused his processors to run wild.

"I will fix you." He never heard your voice filled with such hope and promise. "Even if it's temporarily... I will fix you..."

Three Hours Later...

"Alright, Ratchet. Last wire, you ready?"

Ratchet avoided looking down at you, as your hips and legs hung outside of the opening within his leg. While your torso dangled above the wires inside.

"I'm ready. Just please be careful, you've been electrocuted twice already."

Using your mouth to rip off a bit of black electrical tape, pushing the roll back up your arm, as you cautiously held two live wires.

"I'll be fine. Ok on the count of three. One... Two... Three!"

You quickly pushed the wires together, squinting as you wrapped the electrical tape around the joining. Trying to avoid the sparks.

"Oh boy!"

Low hums and vibrations shot through Ratchet. Giving him a bolt of energy, as you squeezed yourself out of the gap of his leg.

"How you feeling?" you asked, while starting to use the random rolls of duct tape, electrical tape and all sorts of other tapes to somewhat bandage his metal plates together.

"Good." His voice hummed while looking down at you. The heat under his plates grew over time, as you stripped down to your crop top and cargo pants.

"You... have always been a great medical officer."

You smiled, looking up at the Autobot. "Well... normally my paitents are human and not alien."

A small chuckle left him, as you continued to try and close the opening.

Ratchet hesitated for a brief moment. Taking a second to ask the question that's been building up in him for the past couple of hours. "Earlier you mentioned that you 'tried to convince yourself otherwise'... what did you mean by that?"

You paused in the middle of pulling the last strip of duct tape. Biting your lip and briefly closing your eyes before answering.

"After what happened in Chicago. The announcement of you guys being public enemy number one spread like wildfire. N.E.S.T was disbanded. The topic of Autobots and Decepticons divided people."

Opening your eyes, moving onto the next roll of tape, as you tried to continue to patch up the Autobot.

"I was... lost. Confused... parts of me wanted to hate you guys for the chaos that happened. How many humans have gone missing and lost their lives. But..." you paused again, holding the tape in mid-roll. "But when I heard the militaries new mission of taking you guys down. I thought..."

Ratchet cooed as he carefully placed his large hand upon your back. Using the tip of his index digit to rub your spine, as he heard your voice slowly breaking.

"I thought it was the only way." You admitted, trying to stay focused on patching up the metal plates together. "That perhaps people were right, and that we were never meant to be."

"We?..."

"I-I mean, humans and the Autobots. Not like... um, never mind..." your voice trailed off into silence.

Ratchet watched you brush away the sweat that was forming upon your brow, as you stepped back from his leg. After finally putting on the last strip of duct tape.

His spark hasn't been regulating properly since you've briefly came back into his life. And the heat building under his plates made it hard to control his processors, as he couldn't help but notice how your bust slightly bounced with each movement.

You looked up at him, "mind giving me a boost? I wanna see the damage to your shoulder plates."

Ratchet speechlessly placed his servos on the floor. Allowing you to climb into his palm and carefully bringing you to his left shoulder plate.

Awkward silence fell over the pair of you once again. The butterflies that's been swirling around in your stomach for the past couple of hours, caused your abdomen to do backflips.

Just focus on putting him back together. You lectured in your thoughts. A heavy sigh left your lips. Too much has happened between us to try and even think of salvaging what we once had.

"Are you alright?"

Ratchet's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. It's just- I think some wires- whoa!"

"Y/N!"

The Autobot quickly caught you in his free servo, as you slightly fell off his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Ratchet asked.

"Ye-Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Just leaned a little too far forward..."

An awkward silence fell over the pair of you. Your features blushing red as you knelt within the Autobot's palm. Playing with your fingers, while feeling the heat coming from under Ratchet's body plates.

"Well ah... I should go, y'know... before someone sees us..."

Your eyes caught his lingering gaze, as the Autobot slowly leaned in closer towards you.

Butterflies made your stomach do backflips. Ratchet's body felt like it was on autopilot, his optics couldn't look away from your delicate lips. His processors and your thoughts running haywire, as they raced within yourselves. You subconsciously reached out for his cheek, as he held you close to his chest plate.

Closing your eyes as your lips met his. A sweet moan rumbled in his throat as he took in your scent. Your perfume filled his sensors awakening a joy that he thought was all long forgotten. Your bust rested against his chest plate, as you took in every second of this blissful moment.

Slowly breaking away from him, Ratchet's optics wandered over your flushed features as he happily sighed.

"Come away with me?..."

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 5

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: Jason takes a joyride in a chopper

That conversation had gone about as well as Jason thought it would. He frowned; guess he knew her name now. He didn’t hate knowing but was disappointed all the same. But he was used to disappointment, used to being a disappointment on top of it. He was surprised to realize that she was so angry about what had happened. They’d never even met but the venom in her voice, throwing something at Batman despite the fear he inspired in most people, was impressive. He felt a bit of heat in his chest at that, warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was nice someone thought he was worth enough to be pissed about his death. He waited for over an hour after Batman left, watching her pace the apartment. Once he figured she wasn’t going anywhere for the night he took off, he had business with Black Mask to attend to.

Black Mask had been able to take control of the city, first time in a long time someone had that much power and well, Jason wanted that to end. He knew the Mask had a delivery that night, some high-powered weapons and explosives, stuff that Jason could use and store up. He would need supplies to give to his friends for what came next. He knew the shipment was being exchanged on a rooftop in New Gotham, one of the buildings Mask had bought up a few weeks ago, the perfect place for a quick drop and dispersal to all his goons in the city. Jason got there early, tying up and staging Mask’s men so they looked ready to take shipment. Then he waited in his own Black Mask approved uniform.

The helicopter set down right on time and Jason approached. The pilot was annoyed, knowing that all of the guys should have been moving, but Jason made quick work of them, leaving the unconscious but alive pilots on the roof. He was feeling generous. Maybe seeing his soulmate made him nicer. Either way he left them there, noticing Batman and Robin arrive just as he was flying away. He had expected this, what he hadn’t expected was for Batman to shoot the harpoon at the helicopter and miss. He must really have been thrown by YN’s questions about Robin. Jason was away before either of the two vigilantes could catch up. He landed by one of his safehouses on the docks, getting the hired guys he had to unload the goods and get rid of the chopper. This was a waypoint for him, and he needed to get moving before Black Mask sent his own guys to take back what he’d taken.

Jason moved through the weapons, selecting the ones he wanted most, loading them into a duffle and leaving the rest for the mercenaries. He was just speeding out of the warehouse on his bike when several cars sped past him, the last one turning to follow him. He manuvered in and out of cars on the road, hearing them getting sideswiped or crashing behind you as Mask’s guys tried to catch up. He needed a place he could turn and shoot, a clear sight of the tires. He had a map in his head, remembering the on ramp that was coming up, get on the ramp, sharp left to turn on the bridge, the bike could handle it with speed, the car would need to slow. Perfect. He shifted gears and zig-zagged between a couple cars at the red light, moving up the ramp. The car behind him plowed through the stopped vehicles, tearing metal screeching behind him. Jason shivered involuntarily, the bike doing the same and he almost lost control. He took a deep breath and refocused, hitting the top of the ramp at a good speed, wrenching the handlebars to turn left. Once he was in place, he pulled his gun and looked at the car that was just getting to the top of the ramp. He fired; his aim true as always. The cars front tire exploded, sending the drivers side down to the pavement, startling the driver enough that he swerved the wheel, hitting the gas instead of the brake, and crashing in the barrier that separated the lanes. The passenger was sent through the windshield completely, landing in oncoming traffic. Jason heard the honking and the tires squealing as he drove off to his farthest safehouse in the Bowery, wanting to put as much distance between Black Mask and himself.

The gear he had stolen had trackers he figured so he dumped them into the river before going to his humble little apartment. It was completely off the books, no landlord, just an old forgotten building that he could squat in for a few weeks before moving on. He sorted and catalogued the new weapons, guns, some grenades, a very nice machete he hoped he could use soon, maybe on Joker. The thought stopped him, and he smiled. Ya, Joker, Jason really wanted to go give him a visit. He stood, but stumbled because the next thought after Joker was off the crowbar hitting his side, tearing flesh so deep he swore he had seen his intestines starting to leak out. He bent double as another vision, his head, smacking on the cement and the distinct feeling of something breaking in there, his brain bleeding. An iron, metallic taste in his mouth as he coughed up red. He closed his eyes, grabbing his helmet. He didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was doing, but he was back on his bike, then he was in front of her apartment. Then he was knocking on her front door. He heard the lock click and came to his senses, turning and taking off down the hallway. He heard her yell after him, her footsteps following him down the stairs. He was outside and on his bike again. A hand grabbed his arm, but not quick enough, he was gone again. What was he thinking? He couldn’t bring her into this. She would be in danger. What right did he have to a soulmate if he was only going to get her killed? He didn’t stop until he reached another safehouse, this one in the East End. He climbed the stairs to his parents’ apartment; laid in the old bed he had slept in as a child and for the first time since he returned Jason Todd cried. He mourned his parents, he mourned the relationship he couldn’t have, what he knew his pesky heart wanted, and then he mourned himself. The child he was that he never got to see grow up.

You had no idea what had just happened. It was nearly 2AM and you heard banging on your door. It was an idiotic move to open the door to a stranger at this time of night in Gotham but even in your sleepy daze you had needed to open it, knowing that someone important was on the other side. You had seen the helmet, the leather jacket. You didn’t even get a word out and he was running. Your feet were bare, and you had no jacket, but you didn’t care, chasing him down the stairs in your pajamas. You thought you had him at the curb, touching his arm, but he took off, making you fall to the sidewalk, catching yourself just before you broke your nose on the pavement. He had come to find you. Red Hood, maybe Robin, maybe your soulmate whose name started with J. Why? Why had he come and just ran like that? You climbed the stairs back to your apartment considering all of this, but honestly, you had no idea.

Did he want to see you? Did he not? Was he in trouble? O for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t your soulmate be just a regular person? Why did they have to be a vigilante that died and came back to life? There weren’t support groups for things like that. Therapy didn’t cover that shit, not that you had insurance to cover therapy. You groaned, climbing back into bed and staring at your ceiling. Tomorrow, you needed to find Bruce Wayne again. You needed more answers.

[mormontdacey]

cheaper by the dozen 2 is all over my fyp and it's a favorite childhood movie so. stark/baratheon-lannister au

ned stark and robert baratheon were childhood friends. when the kids were young, they all used to go to the lake together but ned and robert fell out hard when robert tried to date ned's little sister lyanna

buuuut sansa's got a big time fashion internship coming up this fall in king's landing so ned's like we gotta go back to the lake!! one last time!! for family!!

they show up at the lake and ned's rented a dinky little oyster shack across from robert's mcmansion called storm's end

robert's got a hot young heiress trophy wife, cersei, and three golden children (plus gendry from a prev relationship)

rickon sets off fireworks at a clambake that causes a boat to blow up and bran to roll into the lake

sideplot: ned keeps bothering robb about what they're gonna name his and jeyne's baby

theon (ned's reluctantly adopted loser son) falls off the shitty old dock that ned's fixing because he's craning his neck trying to check out that hot blonde college girl with the lower back tattoo swimming by (myrcella)

robert invites the starks to storm's end for brunch (his and cersei's mimosas are 90% champagne) and does not stop talking about how their family china was a gift from the prince of dorne so ned recruits arya (who recruits rickon) to mess with robert. cue meat seat scene with shaggydog

also theon spills mimosas on cat and she has to wear the hot mama shirt that she borrowed from cersei

afterward, robert calls the starks crackups and ned convinces cat to enter the stupid cup competition again..even though none of the kids want to

gendry asks arya out (sansa helps her get ready) and we get "the move" scene with ned and robert in the movie theatre

next morning, everyone is so grossed out by ned going full helicopter dad that only rickon goes to the competition with him... but cat gives a speech about "the pack" and everyone shows up just in time. ned's nephew who tagged along (jon) is carrying the raggedy old WINTER IS COMING flag and his gf val is pushing bran's wheelchair

jeyne goes into labor during the do-or-die canoe race and robb FREAKS and the starks throw away the championship. cersei refuses to get out of her canoe so she ends up drifting with joffrey while the others go to help the starks. (robert's mostly treading water, but she doesn't care)

[antoine-roquentin]

This is part of a series on American assassinations of foreign and possibly domestic leaders, and part of a miniseries on the American intervention in the Dominican Republic and Cuba during and prior to 1965. It has been held up to some extent by writer's block surrounding the use of violence and detail. I hope the salaciousness meets but does not exceed nor lag expectations. The previous part, part 7, is available here.

On the afternoon of March 4, 1960, a Belgian ship was offloading 76 tons of explosive munitions directly onto the docks at Havana. At 3:10, an explosion rocked the ship. It was big enough to damage the docks, and dozens were killed or wounded. The Cuban army organized a relief effort. Che Guevara, a trained doctor, drove down as fast as he could. Fidel Castro observed overhead in a helicopter. 30 minutes after the first explosion, a second, seemingly well-timed, hit the relief workers and damaged the helicopter. The total death toll may have been as high as 100. The American State Department in memos blamed the French, who they said were incensed by Cuban support for an independent Algeria. At a memorial the next day, Castro made it quite clear who he blamed. A photojournalist took the following pictures there, including perhaps the most famous image to ever be placed on a t-shirt:

A few days later the Miami Herald, whose journalists in the employ of the CIA were known as AMCARBON-1, -2, and -3 (AM being Cuba), published an interview fingering a culprit. A man had witnessed William Alexander Morgan, an American who had fought with Castro, board the ship the day before. Morgan was both a strong believer in the Cuban Revolution and a liberal who insisted that Castro had no communist leanings. He'd actually participated in the armed suppression of a Trujillo-backed invasion months before. Dominican intelligence agents had approached him and offered $1 million, raised in part from American mafia figures, with a quarter as a down payment to facilitate the landing of former Batista soldiers and arms. Morgan pocketed the money then told the Cuban government, and the invasion force was either captured or slaughtered. Trujillo placed a bounty on his head. He walked hand-in-hand with Castro and Che during the memorial service, but by June 1960 at the latest he was known to be smuggling weapons on behalf of the CIA to rebels. He claimed he was disenchanted with Cuba's increasing closeness to the Soviet Union. Ultimately, he was arrested and executed the month before the Bay of Pigs Invasion. Adam Driver will be playing him in the biopic.

On March 17 and April 14, Eisenhower once again affirmed the plans for Castro and Trujillo, albeit with hours of discussion on the former and only minutes on the latter. American staff did "not find Cuba to be under Communist control", but nevertheless felt that Castro was "the Communist type", as "his confused doctrine of Castro-humanism will take him to a position of world prominence as a radical agitator of under-developed areas". Castro, meanwhile, was still hedging his bets, buying guns from the Czechs rather than the Soviets directly, who he did not allow to reopen their embassy in Havana. While “Trujillo is a man of great pride with great love for his country, his people and his family,” he had to go because “it appears impossible to shake the belief of Latin America that the Trujillo situation is more serious than the Castro situation. Until Trujillo is eliminated, we cannot get our Latin American friends to reach a proper level of indignation in dealing with Castro.” The plan for Cuba was to flood the country with propaganda, train dissidents in peaceful and violent protest, and build a paramilitary force for an eventual invasion. The plan for Trujillo was to "make prior arrangements with an appropriate civil military leader group in a position to and willing to take over the Dominican Government with the assurance of United States support", then take out Trujillo through bribery, pressure, or violence, as well as any others who stood in the way of that group.

One reason Eisenhower's staff did not take kindly to the attempt by Castro to play one imperialist against another was because they were intensely racist and regarded any effort by post-colonial states to manage their resources in their own interest as a sign that they were being controlled by the Soviets. A typical example was the incoming administration of Patrice Lumumba in the Congo. At the end of July, Lumumba stopped in America to visit New York and then Washington D.C. He hoped to woo prominent business leaders and then meet with the president. However, in New York, he explained against the advice of his advisors to a group of bankers that Congolese uranium would now be traded under new agreements since the old ones with the Belgians were void. The next day, an advisor to Eisenhower called an advisor to Lumumba and said "I’m sorry, tell your Prime Minister that the President prefers to go and play golf than to meet Lumumba". Like with Castro, the Americans stonewalled Lumumba, and then when he looked instead to the Soviets for aid, they decided he was an open communist. On 18 August 1960, Eisenhower met with his National Security Council and made a vague comment that he wished somebody would get rid of Lumumba. During a 20 minute break in the meeting, he authorized $10 million for the coming invasion of Cuba so long as it consisted entirely of Cuban nationals. Three days later, America cut off diplomatic relations with the Dominican Republic on the urging of President Betancourt of Venezuela, who Trujillo had openly tried to assassinate in a carbombing, and downgraded its embassy to a consulate.

Around the same time, a CIA agent named Sheffield Edwards, known for doing odd jobs for director Allen Dulles, was meeting with a man named Robert Maheu. As a former FBI agent, Maheu had struck out on his own in 1947, doing wiretaps, burglary, and intimidation in the name of protecting a list of clients that included Howard Hughes and members of the Mafia. Maheu went through a mid-level mafia man named John Roselli to set up a meeting between two CIA agents, Sam Giancana, and Santo Trafficante, both of the Chicago mob, in late September. Together, they began to plot ways to kill Castro and get back the $100 million they'd lost in Cuban casinos to the revolution. Five- and six-figure cheques flowed freely. Poison was ordered, both to Cuba and the Congo. When it arrived in the former, a mafia man in charge of distributing it was told to keep it away from heat, so he stuck it in a freezer and rendered it useless. A plantation in Guatemala found where 500 men could be trained for an invasion, with 6 men a week ferried in teams to the mainland to build networks of anti-Castro Cubans. Reportedly, they were all were killed or captured. A few weeks later, an FBI agent in Miami told the CIA station chief there that he'd better plug up his leaks, since they'd picked up chatter among Castro's agents in the city as to a plan to kill Castro and invade from Guatemala. By November, the magazine Nation had reported what they'd learned from Guatemalan newspapers about the paramilitary training operation. By January it was in the NYT. For Trujillo, the plan was merely to send people who knew him, like his close friend and CIA agent William Pawley who'd helped overthrow Arbenz, to convince him to retire, as well as to supply small arms to rebels.

This period was largely overshadowed by the election, particularly due to JFK's shenanigans. It's unknown who let it slip to him that there was an invasion being planned, but Allen Dulles was one of the suspects. JFK's foreign policy experience in the senate had largely been to spout liberal bromides about economic development as a greater cure for communism than military might. One man he'd held a true admiration for was Patrice Lumumba. However, he was also someone who delegated rather than bringing his own ideas to the table. His dad Joe Kennedy had a meeting with Henry Luce, the CIA-linked boss of Time Magazine and namesake of Warren Hinckle's chimp, whose emissary to the agency was Charles Douglas Jackson, the mentor of Sacha Volman. Luce told Joe that any candidate he backed would have to be very tough on Castro. Joe told JFK, and his advisors came up with a wonderful idea: since his opponent Nixon couldn't mention the planned invasion of Cuba because it was covert, he should suggest that very action repeatedly and loudly, claiming that Nixon's failure to do the same was a sign he was easy on communism. It worked so well that Trujillo poured some money and manpower into JFK's campaign, which he felt would get him back into America's good books once he was elected. Part of this was because Trujillo often hung out in the same group of friends as the Kennedy family. For instance, Igor Cassini, a Russian aristocrat who fled the revolution, had become an American gossip columnist covering what he termed the "jet set", including the Kennedy family. He plead guilty in 1963 to using his influence as well as that of his brother, the designer of many of Jackie Kennedy's dresses, to try and convince JFK to back Trujillo. JFK also had an assist in the very close election campaign from the Chicago machine, an integrated network of Democratic politicians, mafia men like Giancana, and other power players in Illinois. Additionally, his token effort on civil rights, getting the son of a local preacher named Martin Luther King Senior released from prison in Georgia, won him a few votes. Ultimately, his margin in Illinois was less than 9,000. An interesting figure here is Judith Exner, a mistress of Kennedy's who was recorded visiting the White House a number of times (Bobby Baker quotes JFK in Seymour Hersh's book: "You know, I get a migraine headache if I don't get a strange piece of ass every day"). While her story repeatedly changed over the years, she claimed to have been introduced to both Kennedy and Giancana by Frank Sinatra, becoming a go-between on both the 1960 campaign and the attempts to kill Castro.

By Kennedy's election, any chance of a friendship between the American and Cuban governments had died. It was a typical tit-for-tat escalation. America threatened to withhold sugar rights if Cuba didn't return plantations owned by Americans but redistributed to Cuban peasants. Cuba then did a deal with the Soviets to sell sugar for oil. America banned its citizens at Cuban refineries from working on Soviet imports. Cuba nationalized American refineries. In October, America blocked all non-food exports to Cuba. In December, Cuba issued a statement saying they supported Soviet foreign policy wholeheartedly. That was the last straw. Castro had called in 1959 for a $30 billion American investment in Latin America to serve as a Marshall Plan for the region and was laughed out of the room by Eisenhower's flunkies. Kennedy announced a similar $20 billion investment two months after he was inaugurated specifically to counter Castro's popularity and was condemned by him as an imperialist. One month later, on April 15, the Bay of Pigs Invasion began. Kennedy had cut off Eisenhower's all-hands-on-board meetings with his diplomatic, military, and intelligence leadership because they bored him. He claimed he had not been told how bad the chances of success were despite being presented with documents stating a 30% chance of winning. To some degree, he was right. Dulles and Deputy Director for Plans Dick Bissell had systematically suppressed any reports that said Castro was popular. They were so sure the Cuban people hated the revolution that they immediately rewarded anybody they could find who said so. The result was a series of operational failures that doomed the invasion long before it started. Dulles called it the worst day of his life. Kennedy had slept peacefully through the election nailbiter but could not get a moment of rest on the night of the invasion. His most prominent demand had been for plausible deniability that America backed the attempt, yet the media had gotten the story out months prior. The result was the near death of America's Latin American priorities and national humiliation. It took weeks for Kennedy to get over it, after which he told his advisor McGeorge Bundy "Well, at least I've got three more years. Nobody can take that away from me."

At the very same time, the head of the American consular mission in the Dominican Republic, Henry Dearborn, was getting word of the plans for a new assassination attempt against Trujillo. When diplomatic relations had been broken off the previous August, both the ambassador and the CIA station chief had left the country immediately, and Dearborn filled in for both. He had already made contact with a group of conspirators believed to be sufficiently pro-American. They'd asked for small arms and funding. He was friendly to their cause, once comparing Trujillo to Dracula. As Dearborn told Charles Stuart Kennedy in an engaging interview, "I knew they were planning to do it, I knew how they were planning to do it, I knew, more or less, who was involved. Although I was always able to say that I personally did not know any of the assassins, I knew those who were pulling the strings. I knew everything except when. The only reason I didn't know when was because they didn't know either. There had to be a certain set of circumstances when they could put their plan into action." The reason for this was that the conspirators could only act when Trujillo was unguarded, which meant when he had gotten the urge to visit a favourite young mistress of his. He preferred she remain a secret and would only go to visit her at night in a 1957 blue Chevy Bel-Air with a chauffeur and no guards.

They counted among their number Antonio de la Maza, brother of Octavio who was killed in prison and used as the scapegoat for the silencing of an American citizen who had participated in the Galindez murder. Antonio and the entire de la Maza family had despised Trujillo since he came to power in 1930. The year after, he'd taken shots at an army patrol, a teenage idealist hoping to force an uprising. His father was friends with a general who put in a good word for him with the president. It was suggested that he join the army as penance. He rose to become a lieutenant, then retired to go into business. Most of the conspirators were like him. They'd spent time working for Trujillo in the military but had been poisoned by the various indignities they were forced to suffer. There were many in the country like this, who'd had a relative murdered, or a wife or daughter whose virginity Trujillo demanded as proof of their complete loyalty. General Juan Tomas Diaz had a nephew participate in an assassination plot, forcing him and his mother to seek asylum at the Brazilian embassy. Trujillo ordered him to get them out, and when he couldn't, he was forced into early retirement. General Antonio Imbert had a brother in prison for similar reasons and his career was on thin ice. They worked with a man named Severo Cabral, a longtime friend of de la Maza who was in contact with a local American grocer recruited as a deep cover CIA operative. The collective was named EMOTH, EM for the Dominican Republic.

The CIA wanted them to get an actually serving army officer as a patron to ensure they could take over once the deed was done. They managed to get General Pupo Roman, the nephew-in-law of Trujillo. Pupo had run up large debts due to his incompetence running his businesses and, while indecisive, was also easily flattered. The conspirators told him he would be interim president and saviour of the country from communism, and that the CIA had endorsed (in actuality, said he was acceptable) his candidacy for the office. Moreover, Pupo's incompetence had also earned him repeated scoldings over decades from Trujillo. He'd been placed in higher positions because the leader knew he would never act on his burning desire for revenge. Now, an easy way to do so had presented itself. One last figure of importance was Amado Garcia Guerrero, a member of Trujillo's personal guard who held a "rabid hatred of the man" because he prevented him from marrying his sweetheart, the sister of an anti-Trujillo rebel. He was the one who suggested the method of assassination. Together, the men plotted at Juan Tomas Diaz' house, often after watching a Hollywood film on his 16mm projector. Seeing people killed from a moving vehicle repeatedly was one reason they ultimately went with Guerrero's plan.

They imported a Chevrolet Biscayne on credit, knowing that American cops favoured it for its no-frills interior and high speed, and upgraded an old Oldsmobile. Juan Tomas had his service weapon, a .45. Together they came up with two hunting shotguns as well as a Remington and sawed off the barrels. The CIA added three .38 Smith & Wessons and six M-1 carbines with 500 rounds, a disappointment for the assassins but easily enough to get one tortured if they were caught posessing them (codename EMDEED). They staged their drive over and over, plotting out bullet trajectories and wind speeds to determine angles of fire. They almost went on May 17, but Trujillo decided to go to a brewery instead. On the 24th, they waited again in ambush in their cars on the side of the road. Trujillo had a fever. One of the men's wife asked him on the 29th how he would escape retribution for killing the dictator. "This is a man's plan, there is no need to hide," he replied. On the evening of the 30th, Trujillo visited an air force base with Pupo. There was a leaky faucet near the front door and mud had collected outside. Trujillo had gotten his boots muddy days ago and the problem had still not been fixed. He forced Pupo to stand in it and gave him a dressing down for letting the problem fester, telling him to stay at the base until it was fixed. Just before leaving, Trujillo had informed his driver that he would be going to see his mistress a day earlier than usual and that he should be prepared for when he got back. Fortunately, Guerrero had overheard and gotten the word out.

De la Maza, Guerrero, Imbert, and one more sat in the Biscayne by an on-ramp to the Sanchez highway at the edge of the capital, in a position where they could see any car coming from a long distance away. Two others were in the Oldsmobile three kilometres away, waiting for a flash of headlights from the Biscayne to block Trujillo's car if it could not be overtaken. Two kilometres further, a third car waited with only its driver for a second chance to block. All carried at least one weapon supplied by the Americans. The chauffeur was an old comrade of Trujillo's from when he was out raping and killing peasants for the Americans, who knew to turn off the police radio because the dictator did not enjoy the chatter. As it passed the Biscayne, Imbert did a u-turn and floored it. At the 3 kilometre mark, the cars were only 150 feet apart. The Biscayne, driven by a vengeful chauvinist, did not give the signal to the Oldsmobile but instead made to pass the Bel-Air, which pulled into the slow lane to facilitate. They came side by side. De la Maza opened fire with his lever action shotgun. The first shot was true. "Cunt, I've been hit," said Trujillo. The shotgun jammed and a few seconds passed before he was hit again. The Bel-Air pulled over and the Biscayne overshot it by a few hundred feet. "Get the guns, we fight," screamed Trujillo, referring to the Thompsons and pistols in the car. The chauffeur tried to turn the car around and drive back to the capital, but Trujillo pulled open his door, and he was forced to stop it lest the man spill out. Instead, he picked up the gun from the side passenger seat and opened up on the attackers, who had jumped out of the car and lay prone on the pavement. De la Maza was impatient and in the midst of a berserker rage, hoped to make the final kill. He charged forward, shotgun at the ready. Imbert ordered the other two men with the M-1s to cover him and ran too. Trujillo crawled, hands on his personal .38, firing the odd shot in the direction of his attackers. Both Imbert and de la Maza would claim they made the final shot. It ripped through the man's body and he fell to the ground, limp. The chauffeur was hit, a bullet chipping off the top of his skull, and he fell, unconscious but not yet dead. De la Maza stood over the Trujillo and took one more shot, sending his dental bridge flying into the bushes where it would be used two hours later to confirm his death. The quadrumvirate had all at least been brushed by a bullet themselves if not hit directly. When the Oldsmobile came close, the four, thinking they were being attacked by Trujillistas, fired and hit their co-conspirator. All of them were in need of medical care and made to get it. Dazed and confused, they did nothing to cover up their act save for loading the body in their trunk to bring to Pupo as proof of the act. Juan Tomas had given his .45 to de la Maza and it lay on the sidewalk, serial number in plain view for anybody who sought to look it up. It was just after 10 pm.

It was here that the conspiracy collapsed. Three groups raced independently to find Pupo, who had already been spirited away within minutes of the killing by Trujillo's henchman Arturo Espillat. As the killing took place, Espillat was with his wife parked at the highway entrance and heard the gunshots. He got close enough to the gunfight to see the muzzle flashes, then decided he would be better served getting Pupo's help. The two of them drove past the car with Trujillo's body inside of it. The latter were in search of Juan Tomas Diaz to bring to Pupo's now empty house. Under Espillat's watchful eye, at no point did Pupo ever call for his coup d'etat. Instead, everybody acted as though Trujillo was still in charge but hiding. His family, who had tried to kill him many times themselves, refused to believe the words of Espillat and his boss, intelligence head Johnny Abbes, assuming that this was a plot to see what they would do if he died. They could have easily been overruled by a stronger authority figure. The conspirators meanwhile were quick to tell their family members and the doctors they sought out for treatment what they had done, feeling a sense of pride. Wiretapped phone calls, as all in the Dominican Republic were, ensured that the man in the Oldsmobile who'd been shot had secret police in his room within 3 hours. He quickly gave up Pupo. By 7 p.m. the next day, they had another who had given up more names and the CIA connection. By June 2, 3 of the 7 were in custody or dead while the CIA station chief was on a flight to Puerto Rico. By the 5th, two more were taken and Dearborn was out too. Juan Tomas, de la Maza, and Guerrero all went down shooting. Others were tortured. The last two, one of whom was Imbert, would never be caught. Neither would Severo Cabral.

The men who ended up in charge were Joaquin Balaguer and Ramfis Trujillo. The former had been appointed puppet president by Trujillo in one of his periods of international pressure where he could not be seen taking a direct leadership role. The latter, the dictator's son, had come back from his playboy life on his French estate with Porfiro Rubirosa the day after the assassination. He ruled simply by virtue of most others in the state apparatus listening to him despite his lack of a formal role. He finally had his cousin-in-law Pupo arrested on the 5th and subjected him to such intense tortures that he tried to commit suicide by eating a lightbulb and hitting his head on the toilet repeatedly. His death came four months later when Ramfis, torturing him while holding a loaded gun for fun, accidentally shot him. By that point, Ramfis' mental state had taken a nosedive. Dominicans began to protest, acting out when the symbol of their oppression had been removed. Johnny Abbes, who was brutal enough to repress them, was forced out to a diplomatic post in Japan for fear that he might take control. Arturo Espillat, despite being a loyal supporter, was tortured for a few days and then released to flee the country. The rest of the Trujillo family had their own little fiefdoms and resented Ramfis' increasing control. Two uncles in particular, Petan and Hector, were considered even more brutal than Rafael had been. JFK nicknamed them the "wicked uncles". They used their connections in the Popular Dominican Movement, the fake communist opposition their brother had set up to convince the Americans that there was a serious threat of the country going red, to stage riots. The American regime duly responded with 40 ships off the coast.

America was threading a tight needle. It wanted recognition in Latin America that it was a force for good after the humiliation of the Bay of Pigs which committed it to at least a "facade of democracy", in the State Department's words. At the same time, its greatest fear was another Castro, and it was far more willing to support another Trujillo, referred to by both the Americans and the Dominican opposition as the "Nicaraguan option" after the Somoza family there, than a democratic election where a left wing government won. Preference would be given to whoever could suppress the riots and keep the communists down without violating human rights too blatantly. The opposition had two elements. One was the Dominican Revolutionary Party (PRD) founded by CIA asset Juan Bosch. He had the moral support of Latin America's liberals, including the very strong government of Venezuela. The other was the nascent National Civic Union (UNC), essentially a shell for businessmen and notables opposed to Trujillo. It had some popular support because its leader was Severo Cabral, the middle man between the CIA and the conspiracy to kill Trujillo. Many other members had been close to the conspirators. In this way, the CIA defined Overton Window of the Dominican opposition.

Things were in chaos for the summer and fall. Ramfis forced out his wicked uncles only to see himself become the face of brutality, with Balaguer capitalizing. He increasingly tortured for fun and pleasure because running the country made him feel sick. By November, he'd had enough. He allowed his uncles back in for one final explosive moment. Using his connections, he staged the escape of the remaining conspirators, having a few cops killed so their bodies could be dumped by a police van supposedly carrying the prisoners. He then took the conspirators to an estate and let the extended family have a go at tormenting and shooting them. He ditched the country for Spain on his personal yacht with his father's body and hundreds of millions in savings. His uncles proclaimed themselves leaders, then woke up days later with American ships once again in harbour forcing them to step down. Balaguer thought he'd taken over, but by January 1962 he'd stepped down from his post, forced to share power with UNC and military figures, including Imbert and the 7th co-conspirator who were finally able to come out from hiding, in a council system in a desperate attempt to claim legitimacy.

The initial budget for the covert program against Cuba was $5 million, and it would ultimately grow to $50 million a year. It was named Operation Mongoose. It covered a host of actions against Cuba, mostly sabotage and bombings, but also assassinations. Bobby Kennedy was in charge since he felt personal animosity towards Castro. Unfortunately, we don't have a clear picture of it because a significant amount of the records were destroyed in 1967. Today, Cuba is still under control of the same government as under Eisenhower. Meanwhile, 6 rifles, 3 revolvers, and a few thousand dollars were enough to change the Dominican Republic and overthrow the longest ruling dictator in the history of Latin America until that point. However, it was an operation the president was far less willing to support, as Trujillo was respected in the social circles of the richest Americans and had dozens of Senators and Congressional Representatives on his side. Of course, the question of what the president was willing to support has always been a bit of a mystery, as plausible deniability has always been on the minds of those in a position to know the true history of America's system of espionage.

Dick Bissell: “If you had asked Eisenhower what he was thinking at that moment he probably would have said, ‘I sure as hell would rather get rid of Lumumba without killing him, but if that’s the only way, then it’s got to be that way’. Eisenhower was a tough man behind that smile.”

[ratsoh-writes]

Briar doubted he used the ability to get away with his cuteness in anyone other than maybe an irritate helicopter parent.... But it did just definitely help her in that moment of embarrassment. Plus, now she knows cute as an okay word. And she's going to cling to the idea that him being cute is definitely the reason her soul was beating so hard just a moment earlier.

"I am not sure how much more rugged you can get without a ten point" they motioned about their head, clearly speaking of bitrot standards. Wait, no, he's a skeleton, that's not fair. Rugged means rough and uneven, right? His.... Eyebrows? Can't be a beard or fur, that's not a way a skeleton can be rugged. Scars? Eh, honestly he's more appealing without. Their eyes drifted below the chin, determined to connect his 'ruggedness' to his handsomeness.

"But your shoulders are plenty 'rugged'" Hey-maybe move those eyes back up; there we go......Wait. Wouldn't that also mean she just said his shoulders were hot....?- They quickly glanced to the side, and saw they had found a way back and closer to where they had docked.

"I UH, think I'll need to sit down-" and motioned to sit in the chair, as the waves were a little bumpier near the shoreline. Mermaid quickly moved over and provided a distraction.

-----

Aspen waved him off suggesting he didn't have to worry about it. He was from a pretty friendly au so of course he didn't think that. It would have been nice for her to pretend she came from one, too. Whatever, that's her own hang ups.

"He's a disproportionate statue of a well built naked guy to be viewed from the bottom up." She quirked an eyebrow "Don't worry, you're bigger"

She rolled a perfect strike for her tenth set.

"HAH! Yes! In your face!" Looks like she was back.

Finn actually blushes at the shoulder comment happily

Finn: YOU REALLY THINK SO?

When briar mentions the shore, Finn dutifully gets back behind the wheel to steer the boat home back to the docks. It is a bumpier ride now so she was smart to sit down….

Mermaid puts her head on briars lap

Mermaid: boof.

So elegant. So polite.

——————

The rest of the bowling game, Star and Aspen seem to take turns landing strikes and spares each round.

It’s now down to the last ball, and somehow they both have the same exact score??

Star: OK YOU’RE CUTE AND ALL ASPEN, BUT THERES NO WAY IM LETTING YOU WIN THIS! MWEHEHEHE

[mysterymanjoseph]

Not the Best Vacation Spot:  mysterymanjoseph and lovelygraph

Joseph’s overseas branch offices had become a bit ‘problematic’.  All sorts of unrest with both populations and governments, are causing him to consider closing down more and more of them, for safety’s sake.  He offers to move the employees to the new locations, saving time and money to get the new offices up and running, rather than having to hire and train people from scratch.  This was going fairly smoothly, then, some upstart group took a number of one of his mining crews hostage, wanting both ransom, and for his corporation to pressure some terms from the nation’s government.  Joseph is more concerned with his people’s safety, if it were just money, and it could be guaranteed his people would be unharmed, that would be fine.  But, that usually is not the case any more.  Decades ago, his grandfather had formed a mercenary force to effect rescue missions when the need arose.  One group to act in the Atlantic region, with their own aircraft carrier, USS Hornet, saved in secret from being scrapped in the nineties by Joseph’s grandfather in the greatest bait and switch con game the world will never know about.  Still, the Pacific region is vulnerable, so, Joseph decided to try the con game again, saving USS Kittyhawk from the scrap yard, having the carrier towed to a fully enclosed dry dock in South Korea to undego refit and upgrades.  She serves with the Pacific force.  Now, Kittyhawk is off the coast of the South East Asian nation, launching upgraded Vietnam era F8 Crusader fighters, lovingly called ‘The Last Gunfighter’ by their pilots, and F7 Corsair 2 attack jets.  Helicopters from the converted cargo ship Edson’s Ridge, lifted off earlier and headed inland, carrying the ground forces.  Joseph rides seated in the doorway of the upgraded Bell UH-1.  When his forces are deployed, he will go so long as he is physically able to fight along side him.  Six years in combat in Afghanistan with the Marines earned him the respect of the members of his force the moment he set foot at both secret bases.  One of the helicopter’s crew man give him status updates on mission progress.  Soon enough, the clearing that will be their landing zone comes into view.  Joseph holds up one hand to get his men’s attention, then circles his index finger in the air, telling them it ‘go time’.  With that, there is a fast final check of weapon and gear, then the helicopter sets down, Joseph jumping out before the landing skids touch the ground, sprinting away from the chopper, lying prone, aiming his M1A rifle towards the surrounding tree line to provide cover for his men, and the other choppers coming in to unload their troops.  

@lovelygraph

[slumberingcorpse]

Monster

Simon “Ghost” Riley x John “Soap” McTavish

Summary: Soap gets jealous of a dog.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff with a tiny bit of angst for taste

A/N: My first attempt at writing COD fanfic. I hope I don’t sound too much like a pleb. Enjoy.

Soap couldn’t ask for anything more. Graves and Hassan were buried six feet under probably comparing war crimes in hell. Alejandro and Rudy got their base back and were hard at work rebuilding it. His greatest achievement, however, was convincing 141 one and only Ghost to go out with him.

Sure he was drunk as hell when he asked him out. He was too terrified of the man to try to do it sober. If anything, Ghost saying yes sobered him up in an instant.

It has been eight months since then. Soap wishes he could say that their relationship was perfect from the beginning, but that would be a lie. It took a lot of work for both of them with all the baggage they carried. It was all worth it in the end though. It was shocking how perfect Ghost was as a boyfriend, especially in bed. Soap was more than surprised to find how much Simon liked to cuddle.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Everything was just too perfect and now the universe had to ruin it.

Standing on the landing dock, Soap impatiently waits for the helicopter to land. Ghost has been gone for two weeks on a mission with Gaz trying to find any information on Markarov. Two weeks since the last time Ghost held him at night. He couldn’t help but get antsy.

Once the blades stop spinning, Gaz stepped out. Spotting Soap he stretches and walks over.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the welcoming party? Did you miss me?” Gaz teases walking over with a shit-eating grin.

“Almost as much as a rash,” Soap rolls his eyes before turning back towards the helicopter, “Where’s Ghost?”

It was Gaz’s turn to roll his eyes, “Relax, I didn’t get your boyfriend killed. He’s just making sure the little lady is comfortable.”

“Who?” Soap asks cocking up his eyebrow confused. Gaz only chuckled and patted his shoulder, “You’ll soon find out.”

Soon enough, Ghost jumps out of the helicopter holding tightly a small bundle close to his chest. In a millisecond hundred of things fired off in Soap’s mind.

What the hell is Ghost holding?

Is it a kid?

No, it’s too early to even bring up having a kid!

Does Ghost even want kids? They never got around to talking about it. How would it even work? Soap wasn’t planning on retiring anytime soon, but then again, if Ghost wanted to...maybe retiring early wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Johnny? Are you alright?” Ghost asks quickly snapping Soap out of thoughts.

“Yeah! Of course! How was the mission? What’s in the bundle?” He asks quickly.

Ghost shoots him a concerned glance before shrugging, “We didn’t find anything too useful, except for Riley.”

“Riley?”

Ghost nods and uncovers the bundle in his arms revealing nothing other than a shabby German shepherd pup curled up against his chest, “She kept following me around on the mission. I fed her some of my MREs and she stayed by my side ever since. Smart girl too, the bastards tried to seek up on us but she sniffed them out and warned us. She might not look like much now but after a bath, a trip to the base’s vet, and a couple of months in training I’m sure she’ll be a great military dog.”

“Wait, you’re planning on keeping it?” Soap asks looking down at the dirty dog in his boyfriend’s arm.

Ghost’s eyes darken under the mask as he tightens his grip around the pup, “Problem?”

“N-no. It’s just you know how Price gets with surprises. Does he know about our...newest member?” Soap lies forcing himself to smile.

Simon relaxes and nods, “I already told him once we completed the mission. He told me as long as I take care of all of her needs, she can stay.”

“Oh well, that’s good to hear. Well then, should we go inside? I managed to find a copy of that shitty movie I told you about before you left, we could-”

“Not today, Johnny, first I have to get Riley clean, go buy some dog supplies too. MREs are hardly edible for us, can’t imagine them being edible for a pup. We can watch it another time,” Ghost interrupts only to quickly leave with Riley.

Soap couldn’t believe it. A dog. Out of anything he could’ve brought back, he brought a bloody mutt. Suddenly, the half-a-dog joke Ghost made back at Las Almas echoed in his head. Never in his life could he guess that Ghost would end up as a dog person.

Soap always had a dislike for the mutts. Always covered in mud and slobber, barking non-stop in the middle of the night. Not to mention the number of times he had to run for his life to escape the creature’s jaws from ripping into his neck on the battlefield. Now he doesn’t even have a base to protect him from the little terrors.

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

To say that Ghost was happy, was an understatement, he was fucking ecstatic. Is every waking moment was spent with Riley. From walks, feeding her, taking her to vet appointments, and some basic training, Ghost has never been happier.

“Riley, sit! Stay!” Ghost orders holding up a silent hand signal, grinning under his mask as the pup followed his orders perfectly.

“Atta girl,” he praises tossing her a treat before giving her another order.

“You know, if I have known that getting Ghost a dog would stop him from being a gloomy bastard all the time. I would’ve gotten him a dog years ago.” Price chuckles into his coffee mug as he watches Ghost’s training.

“Yeah, it’s a fucking miracle,” Soap grumbles sarcastically staring down at the dark sludge filling his own mug.

Price cocks his eyebrow in interest, “Trouble in paradise sergeant?”

“If you consider my boyfriend’s obsession with that mangy mutt trouble, then yes,” Soap vents glaring over at Riley as she gives Ghost her paw only to glare over at Price when he hears him start to laugh.

“Oh, Christ, you’re serious!? You’ve got to be taking the piss!” Price snickers unable to stifle his laughter.

“I am. I don’t know what Ghost sees in that...monster.”

“Johnny, you can’t possibly be jealous of a puppy.”

“What!? No! It’s not like that!” Soap argues feeling his cheeks start to warm.

“It sure sounds like you are. Ghost doesn’t give all his attention to you for a few days and now you’re throwing a fit, is that it?”

Soap huffs and stomps his feet like a child, “I’m not throwing a fit!”

“Johnny? Is everything okay?” Ghost asks causing Soap to tense up. He almost forgot how silent Ghost’s footsteps could be. Usually, when Ghost appears out of nowhere would end up in a surprise hug or kiss on the cheek but today it was different. Price had a cocky smirk on his face and that damned mutt was sweetly nestled in Ghost’s arms. It made his blood boil.

“Everything is perfect!” he shouts throwing his arms up in the air before turning his heel. Shooting another glare at Riley, he continues, “And stop popping up behind everyone like that! It’s annoying and creepy as hell!” he complains before storming off to his room.

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

The next few days, Soap’s mood only worsened. It seemed like Ghost’s puppy obsession has spread over to Gaz who would not stop taking pictures of Riley in her small tactical jacket.

“I’m going to die! She’s so cute!” Gaz squeals as the pup happily wags her tail, adoring the attention. Ghost leans down and pets her head proudly, “In a few months Riley will be able to take down armies. Makarov and Shepherd won’t know what hit them.”

Soap couldn’t help but scoff, “Oh yeah, I’m sure a dog would do lots, up until it gets shot or blown up.”

Both soldiers turn their attention toward Soap. Gaz was fuming at his comment while Ghost just looked surprised that he said it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you even say that?” Gaz finally shouts.

“What? Just saying. After all, what has two legs and bleeds? Eh, L.T.?” Soap brings up looking at Ghost for an answer.

Regret quickly fills his chest seeing Ghost’s silent stare. To anyone else, it would seem angry but Soap knew better. His stare showed nothing but fear and sadness.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize, Ghost was already gone followed quickly by the all-so-loyal, Riley while Gaz walks up to him.

“I don’t know what’s happening between you two but that was a dick move.” Gaz chastised crossing his arms over his chest.

Soap sighs and frowns, “I know...I know...I’m just...I’m jealous of the damn dog...”

“Seriously? That’s the problem?” Gaz scoffs.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Soap sighs turning away in embarrassment.

“Oh no, I’m not laughing. I’m disappointed. During the whole mission, Ghost kept going on about being excited to show you, Riley. Ghost never talks. Not to me he doesn’t and yet he went on and on about you and Riley. And yet here you are being a selfish twat. Instead of talking to Ghost like a real man, you told him that his dog is going to die. I hope you’re proud,” Gaz huffs before walking away.

“Fuck,” Soap curses as he gets up. He messed up big time. Gaz was right. He didn’t even consider Ghost’s feelings. The thought of talking to him didn’t even cross his mind and now he made a whole mess of things.

Thinking over a way to apologize, Soap makes his way to Ghost’s room. He hesitates for a moment before knocking on the door, “Ghost? Can we talk?”

There was silence for a few seconds followed by shuffling and a click coming from the other side, “Door’s open. Come in.” Ghost calls out.

Taking a deep breath, Soap walks in. It hasn’t been a while since he was in Ghost’s room and yet so much has changed. Dog toys were scattered about, and a large dog bed was placed next to the right side of the bed with Riley peacefully sleeping, and then there were the dog bowls next to the bathroom door. In the center of the room was Ghost, no Simon, sitting silently on his bed avoiding Soap’s eyes.

He still had his gear on but his mask of off showing his grease-covered face. Even after so many months, it was a rarity to see Ghost’s face. Only in the most intimate situations did he decide to take it off and even then, Ghost still had trouble trusting Soap with touching his face. Johnny didn’t mind though, just staring at his gorgeous scared face was enough to make his heart flutter.

Maybe in a better situation, he would jump into his arms and start to kiss those full lips passionately, but for now, he had to focus.

“I umm...we have to talk...” Soap mutters anxiously unsure how to explain himself without sounding like a complete dolt.

“What was it?” Simon suddenly asks. His voice was deep and cold but his hands were trembling.

“W-what?” Soap asks confused glancing down at his boyfriend’s hands. He’s never seen Simon so stressed before. Even on missions, this couldn’t just be because of his stupid comment, could it?

Simon lets out a shaky breath and looks down at his feet, “What did I do for you to finally see me as a monster?” he asks. This time his voice was weak no higher than a whisper but it was loud enough for Soap’s heart to break.

“Simon, you aren’t making sense. What are you talking about?” Soap questions became more confused and worried as the conversation went on.

“I’m talking about you!” Simon snaps looking up at Soap with tearful eyes, “Ever since I came back from the mission you’ve been so distant. Every time I try to talk to you, you’re in a worse mood than before and every time you look at me all I can see is hate and disgust in your eyes...so what did I do, Johnny? P-please tell me,” he begs, dropping his head into his shaky hands.

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place, and Soap never felt so stupid, “Christ...” he sighs causing Simon to tense.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was...I am jealous of the fucking dog.” Soap confesses. He didn't care how stupid he sounded. It was stupid.

Simon stays silent for a few moments before slowly looking back up at Soap with an unreadable look, “Excuse me?”

“Riley,” Soap sighs turning away in shame, “You’ve been spending so much time with her, so I got jealous...I wasn’t glaring at you...I was glaring at her for getting all of your attention.”

Simon’s eyes widen as he processes what he heard before pulling Soap down into a passionate kiss. Johnny yelps in surprise but quickly makes himself comfortable on Simon’s lap as he kisses back.

“Johnny, you’re going to be the death of me. This whole bloody week I thought you were going to leave me only to find out you’re jealous of my dog? I would be angry if it wssn’t so-”

“Stupid?”

“Hilarious,” Simon chuckles before diving in for another heated kiss only pulling away to breathe.

“Well? What now?” John pants glancing over to the sleeping pup.

“I’m not going to give away my dog, McTavish,” Simon chuckles holding onto his waist.

John pouts, “I don’t like sharing.” he whines peppering Simon’s shoulder with light kisses.

“You’ll have to get used to it. She’s staying.” Simon retorts kissing his boyfriend’s temple.

“Couldn’t you have gotten a different kind of pet? Like a fish or a cat? Maybe a snake instead?”

Another chuckle rumbles through Simon’s chest, “Not a dog person, Johnny?”

“Despise the mutts. Back home there was always this bulldog that would bark at me on my way to school. One day it dug under the gate and attacked me. Nearly tore my face off.” Soap confides kissing up his neck.

“Yeah well, the only faces that Riley will rip apart are those who try to hurt you. I’ll make sure of that,” Simon reassures running his hands under Soap’s shirt and enjoying the heat redating off of his body.

“As if I need two guard dogs,” Soap scoffs in response leaning down to give Ghost another tender kiss.

“Oh? Who’s the other dog?” Simon hums into the kiss.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s you L.T.”

[nobodysdaydreams]

I know people talk about Capt. Noland and Cannonball being old friends with Nicholas like in the books, and when they find out the children are with Nicholas, that’s when they come back into the story, but I have an alternative:

Reynie: I’m sorry Capt. Noland but we have to go, Dr. Curtain has kidnapped and hypnotized Mr Benedict, and now the whole world is in danger!

Noland: Curtain? As in L.D. CURTAIN?

Cannonball: I believe the very same sir.

Noland: *having war flashbacks* He was on our European cruise 5 years ago with his son. He took extra time sightseeing and made us 2 hours late docking in Greece. I was reprimanded quite severely for that.

Cannonball: as was I sir. The paperwork still haunts my nightmares. I believe he also undertipped the waitressing staff. (Though I must say I found his son to be a very polite and artistically talented young man).

Noland: UNDERTIPPING MY STAFF? INEXCUSABLE! THE RULES OF HOSPITALITY ON THE SEAS ARE QUITE CLEAR. NO MATTER. THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM JUSTICE. SOON WE WILL HAVE LEDROPTHA CURTAIN PLACED IN MARITIME COURT AND AT LAST HAVE THAT TERRIBLE PAPERWORK, THAT STAIN UPON MY REPUTATION, SPONGED FROM THE RECORD! COME ALONG CHILDREN.

Sticky: Well, I mean, thanks for the help but you know Curtain’s done a lot worse. I mean, he created the emergency, did experiments on kids, kidnapped his own family, and-

Cannonball: Yelled at our cleaning staff when they took too long on his room. And I can’t prove this, but I’m pretty sure it was him and what I assumed were his wife and son who stole one of the ships in our fleet about a year ago. I saw what I swear looked like them landing in a helicopter on the ship and taking the vessel but unfortunately I couldn’t reach the ship in time.

Noland: HE DID WHAT? THE AUDACITY AND RUDENESS OF THAT MAN TO DISRESPECT MY STAFF AND STEAL FROM THE CAPTAIN WHOSE VERY REPUTATION HE PUT IN JEOPARDY! DON’T WORRY CHILDREN THIS VILLAIN WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!

Sticky: Yeah stealing and rudeness are pretty bad things, sure. But Curtain also-

Kate: they’re willing to help Sticky, let’s not question why.

[midnightmissionarchives]

Werewolf by Night Issue 33

Encryption status: decrypted

Opening files...

Now for the thrilling conclusion of Marc Spector's first ever appearance as he does battle with the fearsome werewolf, better known as, Jack Russell.

Let's dive in! This is a long one so buckle up!

When last we left off Marc was hoping to avoid the authorities after he had successfully subdued the beast...or so he thinks! (as if the cover of the comic doesn't give it away).

One thing I'd like to mention before getting in too deep. While Marc was fighting the werewolf near the end of the last issue, Frenchie had gone to locate Jack's sister. So like a gentleman...he lands on the roof of their building, kicks in the window, and asks Topaz and Lissa which one was which and if they didn't want to answer...they would both have to go with him. What a classy man.

Kinda makes me wonder if Marc planned to split the money with him...

I can ask the boss later.

Moving on!

Pretty funny how the police were shocked the caped weirdo with a helicopter didn't do as they were told and stopped trying to get away. I'm sure they weren't but...still.

You can really tell the kind of relationship Marc and Frenchie have by the way Marc sasses him.

Even back in his first appearance, Marc is pretty dramatic and sassy (don't tell him I said that...he might has the Mission get me stuck in a loop or something). He's just so clever with his words like "you stupid idiot".

Of course Jack is no idiot, the werewolf just doesn't like being captured and still is pretty angry at this weird guy that's been beating him up all night.

Moon Knight and the werewolf are thrown from the ladder and into the waters below, narrowly missing the pier. After exchanging a few blows under water, Marc manages to drag the, as he calls him, "mangy freak" up onto the dock. Now back on dry land, the werewolf takes his chance and goes for Moon Knight again.

With being so close to the water while trying to fight each other the two end up in the water a couple more times all while Marc tried to "pound" into the werewolf's head that he's to be taken alive. The last time Marc pulls himself from the water he struggles to catch his breath, but doesn't have much time as the werewolf is right behind him and has the Moon Knight at his mercy...but doesn't have a chance to reap his reward as the night slowly fades to the day causing him to turn back into the human, Jack Russell, right before Marc's eyes much to his disbelief.

Hearing someone approach, Marc thinks it might be the cops, but no it's a presumably homeless drunk that is just taking an unsteady stroll along the pier, leaving after advising Marc that him and his friend shouldn't be swimming in the polluted waters.

And you know what this absolute dork does? Now remember everyone, this version of Marc was merely a hired hand to hunt down the werewolf. He was told "wear this suit and call yourself this silly name when you go and get this monster", he does not at this time have any real attachments to any moon god or anything...

But this dork goes and says this...

This guy who's only been "Moon Knight" for what? Maybe 24hrs?? If that!! is saying things like "thank the moon". He lives for the drama and he is feeling this masked identity.

Even the committee guy is like, "wow, you've really committed to the bit haven't you?"

On a more somber note, a couple panels before we learn that due to the extensive damage Jack had done to his best friend, Buck, while he was the werewolf has unfortunately put him in a coma. He did wake briefly and muttered Jack's name as well as Button's mom's name, Elaine. Buck Elaine had apparently only been out on one date.

Now...back to the committee and Jack's fate...

The committee was indeed stalling all day because they were trying to wait until night time to see if Jack would transform. It's then we learn that the committee intends to use Jack as a sort of weapon when he's transformed into the werewolf to kill political/business rivals and really anyone else that would get in their way. And once they determine which of the girls is Jack's sister they intend to do the same with her, presumably.

Jack turns his attention to Moon Knight calling him out for his role in all this, asking him if he's shocked to find out he's just a normal guy the rest of the month. He then emphasizes his plight by saying that being a werewolf is a far worse cage then the bars he's currently trapped in. And with that, night falls and Jack is transformed yet again into the werewolf, much to the committee's shock, horror, and satisfaction.

But Marc doesn't seem to happy with his job well done...

Even from the very beginning, Marc has always had a good sense for what was right. Sure he's a mercenary doing odd jobs for money, but when faced with real injustice he can't seem to be content with just standing by and washing his hands of it.

So he unleashes the werewolf. As it turns out the werewolf only has one target in mind...the man who caused him so much pain...Moon Knight. But, Marc isn't going to go down so easily. Knocking a gun out of one of the frightened committee member's hands and dodging the werewolf, sending him flying into another committee member, Marc remembers the girls and how they're practically sitting ducks. With practiced aim, he throws his moonarangs, cutting them free and urges them to run to safety, ensuring that Jack would be fine.

Together, Moon Knight and the werewolf take out each member of the committee, including the fatso leader.

With that, issue 32 of Werewolf by Night comes to a close. Jack is off to do werewolf things, Marc pocketed 10 grand and got a cool new suit and moon obsession out of it. Overall, I'd call this a win.

Alright everyone. If you made through this file, you're a trooper. It was long for sure, but a lot of action and character related things happened in this issue that it was hard to trim the fat, so to speak.

I think with this issue we really start to get a better idea of the character "Marc Spector" that was taking shape, like a figure solidifying in the fog. In issue 32 we learned about who Marc was on a surface level, but in issue 33 we start to get more a sense of who he is. We get a sense that he's not some greedy meat head who's only driving force is money. He's someone that can and does care about innocent people and doing what's right and just. Jack was never really his enemy, he was just a target to be aquired and once Marc learned just what was instore for Jack, it just didn't sit right with him. And yeah, kidnapping Lissa and Topaz isn't a good look, but him and Frenchie had no intentions of hurting them and when the moment came Marc made sure they could get away to safety.

I'm interested to see how the character begins to grow and develop from here, especially once the "personas" (that's how they seemed at the time) of Jake and Steven get introduced.

Even this very rough simple form of "Marc Spector" is still a very complex character, or at least shows the great potential to be a complex character.

Thank you for joining me as we dive into the archives. Hope you enjoyed the read! We may skip around a bit with the next files that are being decrypted, maybe something a little more recent.

See you then!

[steam-beasts]

I always wonder? What happens if you put a engine from another country In to sodor? Does the infection spread to them like the plague or something? I mean this world I'd very strange. Also I imagine morterbike having a deer body

Nia actually exists in the au, and since she's all the way from Kenya, her monster body is a mix between a cougar and a jaguar. British locomotive bodies are a mix between a cat and a wolf's.

As for how the infection would work on a non-sudrain engine, the monster engines are in a way, like zombies. So if they see a non-infected engine, they'll instantly be triggered into a wild, mindless state and bite the engine or ram into it.

For other vehicles like Bertie or Harold, buses will gain stubby little hamster legs and a little bob-tail, becoming hamster-buses. Helicopters and planes like Harold and Jeremy will gain more avian features like feathers. Jeremy, as a jetplane would have his landing gear replaced with talons for snatching up whales. Aviation vehicles would be considered a type of large bird.

Cranes like Cranky and Carly (and Big Mickey) have fish-like features, like large fins going down their support beams and on their heads. So now, if Cranky ever thought things were too much to handle, he could just jump off the docks and swim away...he's a giga fish. A Cranefish...