Latest Posts by vodkabutgay - Page 2
Look at my cat ya all. She's so beautiful. Her name is Santra. Been giggling at her for the past two hours, she thinks I'm going crazy.
Typed so much in one day, my social battery ran out. Aight time to disappear for the next 3-4 business days.
I cannot speak for everyone. But I can assure you, I will let you know every time if it's something I said or her if she uses my anon again. The only thing we can do is spread the word. This is unfair to you, the community and the trust between your anons. You stay safe first, love.
Okay okay what the hell? Impersonating my anon?? I have been waiting to close my anon 🌷 for days like I once promised you. I'm the pink tulip anon. And Ethan oh god! I just saw what happened. I promise you I don't even know who the hell that is. This is insane and made me sick to my stomach. I never wanted to close my anon like this I thought eventually things will happen when I gain enough courage. Not sending anonymous asks triggers my anxiety but WHAT THE HELL??? This is just ridiculous!
nonnie believe me!!! i've known u were different this whole time!!!!!!!!!! but she was using the tulip anon on other accounts (i personally deleted the ones she sent me 'cause i had you!!!!) & i wanted to make sure ppl were aware of that. hope u understand & i'm rlly sorry about this whole thing. it's such a giant mess. feel free to keep using the emoji here, it's for YOU!!! you had it first anyway
Yes. I have seen that too, but no you don't have to apologise ever. This is NOT your fault, I completely understand how uncomfortable she's making you and it is pathetic truly. She has been using 🌷 and faking the way I speak for a while. I am not saying calling Simon "pretty boy" is something to put a label on, but I have seen that happening with other blogs, imitating exactly how I speak when I follow only you and @/ ask-phillip-graves with the same emoji, they were the one who chose it for me! I'm just, very confused and lost about this whole thing. I just wish they leave you alone because this is turning into cyber harrasment.
Okay okay what the hell? Impersonating my anon?? I have been waiting to close my anon 🌷 for days like I once promised you. I'm the pink tulip anon. And Ethan oh god! I just saw what happened. I promise you I don't even know who the hell that is. This is insane and made me sick to my stomach. I never wanted to close my anon like this I thought eventually things will happen when I gain enough courage. Not sending anonymous asks triggers my anxiety but WHAT THE HELL??? This is just ridiculous!
nonnie believe me!!! i've known u were different this whole time!!!!!!!!!! but she was using the tulip anon on other accounts (i personally deleted the ones she sent me 'cause i had you!!!!) & i wanted to make sure ppl were aware of that. hope u understand & i'm rlly sorry about this whole thing. it's such a giant mess. feel free to keep using the emoji here, it's for YOU!!! you had it first anyway
This is why we can't have nice things.
I'm gonna give him a kiss on the forehead
f1 kuna
Put a mask on the second one and it's literally you
This is literally you.
Or this.
...i don't see the resemblance
Found your spirit bird then.
This you?
yes.
GRAVES REQUEST! :3 graves w a fast talking new yorker reader (preferably a lawyer?) i can imagine him being real well behaved around her and it really throws everyone off
It does throw everyone off ESPECIALLY his Shadows when this smooth talking southern commander suddenly goes all obedient and quiet around his lawyer wife who with a snap of her fingers can make him go all soft eyed
His southern charm does nothing when it comes to your strong temperament, you're like a fuse that once is lit cannot be concealed, sometimes you're not even mad or upset, you're just used to speaking fast and anyone who doesn't know you thinks you're scolding Phillip
You'll randomly arrive unannounced on base and strut in as if you own the place, well your husband runs it and he bows down to no one but you so technically you do lol
His shadows aren't supposed to see their commander as someone who could be controlled easily by anyone else, and who would have thought the pretty lady who arrived wearing nice and elegant clothing would be the one to break that impression of theirs, they had all looked amongst themselves in confusion when you walked in and Phillip didn't direct a harsh look or word towards you
Instead he paused, dropped whatever he was doing and was immediately by your side greeting you with a warmth they had rarely ever seen in him, the Shadows knew Phillip had a family, they could tell that much from the polaroid he kept of you in his pocket, which they sometimes found when attempting to pickpocket him for fun
But they never thought he could be so...yielding to anyone... the more you know
Concept of a concept time:
Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.
Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.
Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.
Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.
These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.
Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?
Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.
So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?
Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.
Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.
Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.
Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.
Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.
Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.
Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.
It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.
John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.
John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.
John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.
Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.
And it’s not fair.
"It's her first time being a mother."
It's my first time being a child too. She can be a mother again, but I cannot be a child anymore.
It's so hard to fight with parents that broke their back to provide for you, a mother who raised you against so much injustice in your father's family. But she has left scars I cannot heal, pain that cannot be replaced, a void I cannot fill up, and a gaping emptiness that keeps on gnawing at my feet like an animal clawing at me cruelly. At night I'm left to cry in the blankets which are supposed to provide me warmth but acts as a shield instead. Everyday, every second. I know she didn't have the privilege to pursue her dreams, but how is it fair to rip mine apart? How is it fair to crush my hopes, my interests, my confidence. Telling me how useless I am, how no one will ever love me, how I will never be good for anything. Is this what a mother should be like?
Was her resentment towards her life born as me? Is that why I'm subjected to her venomous words and my silence? Her anger and my sadness? Her slaps and my bruises? While my brother recieves her calm and gentle love? It hurts because you know she's capable of loving, but not towards me. Towards him. And I'm left crying like a pathetic dog starving for a shred of affection.
To be an eldest child is to swallow all the words you have ever wished to speak and all the emotions you ever wanted to express.
I am my father’s daughter - I only know how to let people take
Yesterday, I was talking to my ma about how it should be a rule to not let people who doesn't handle kids or young people in general work in universities and schools. Especially, old/middle aged men in girls' colleges. I had such a bad experience with the staff member and had to step in to stop a man from harrassing a girl. And they hit me with this line. It felt more like an insult to be fair.
a canon event for every oldest daughter is being told “you would be a good lawyer”
Saw these beautiful ladies on my way to Uni. They are so beautiful but oh so expensive. Need someone to buy me some flowers atleast once in my life 😞
What should I name them? 🫡 Tangerine and Orange?
JOHN CAN WE KEEP THEM?
(I'm actually fighting my mum so hard over them)
YES YES YES YES YES‼️ HAND YOUR MUM OVER TO ME I’LL CONVINCE HER
I should pick up White Nights it's been sitting on my desk for far too long than I'm proud of. Gonna have to write down about it once I'm done for sure.
fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’
[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]
All About Lily Chou-Chou (2001)
Feeling bad for my professors because this is how my papers look like
what studying literature feels like
This is reminding me to sit myself down and make the notes of The Chronicles of Death Foretold that I have been piling up for a week.
the most fun a girl can have is finding parallels, noticing patterns, making connections, contemplating
He's so pretty I wish we were seahorses.
(a hug from this man would probably make my mental state worse but who cares)
I will hunt you down, watch your back Cap.
(I don't mind it's public for a reason)
Really luv? Fine I turned my anon off. When can I smack that ass then?
Find yourself an opportunity, enjoy.
(also ignore me stalking your blog)
I just read your post about Adler reacting to Philip's trial in MW3. It was so amazing and beautiful that you successfully pushed into that brainrot of Dadler. However! It really got me thinking, what wound he do when in MW2 Philip supposedly "died"? Like, maybe he came home after months but Adler didn't knew at first that his son survived that explosion and like everyone thought Graves died. God I could only imagine..
thank you so much i'm glad you enjoyed it!
And i may or may not have already written something...
so i'll just put this here
The devil knocks on my door. A Dadler and Graveson angst oneshot
Ao3 link
Summary:
Russel Adler’s day was going fine; that is, until he heard a knock at his front door. And in his gut he knew something was wrong. Or Adler gets some news about his dearest and only son.
(CONTENT WARNING! CONTAINS MENTIONS/DESCRIPTIONS OF SUICIDE AND DEATH.
DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH EITHER OF THOSE TOPICS)
Adler was leaning relaxingly against the plush leather couch, a cigar held comfortably between his lips, the warm burn of smoke flowing through his lungs before he exhales the curling smoke out of his nose. The burn of the smoke searing his throat became an everlasting comfort ever since Vietnam and has become a key staple in keeping whatever sanity Adler had left intact.
The mindless drone of the TV faded into the background as Adler’s attention was brought from the show that Phillip had recommended; the name was something along the lines of ‘The Good Scottish Cook-Off’ or something like that.
Adler stood up from the couch, cigar still held between his lips. He took another puff of the cigar, his warm hand wrapping around the cold metal door handle, swinging open the door, the words already on his lips. He’d been getting pestered by the damn Girl Scouts for so long he actually earned himself a nickname, ‘grumpy.’. “Listen, kids—”
The words died on his lips immediately.
On his front porch stood four uniformed men, two of whom were marines; the other two were shadow lieutenants he had previously met a few months ago at Shadow Company's annual Thanksgiving event.
His hand reaches up to his mouth, removing the cigar, and letting his hand fall to his sides. The four uniformed men all give him sharp, well-practiced salutes, and one of the marines and a lieutenant, shadowed by the name of Vinson, step forward, and the pit in Adler's stomach pitches deeper and deeper.
“Sir, we regret to inform you that your son, Philip Alex Adler, was recently killed in action.”
The words hung in the air after the marine had spoken them. Vinson didn't dare to look at Adler's face, keeping his head down and eyes focused on his shoes.
The other words spoken after that bleed into an incomprehensible silence as Adler simply stood there staring down the marine with a haunted look in his eyes as the marine continued to speak.
“A funeral will be held in his honour in the next few weeks, and you will also be given compensation for his passing, sir. Thank you for your service, and God bless.” The marine’s words were simple despite deviating from the normal passing script fed into the brains of the soldiers who had to break the news.
War was one thing: the bloodshed, the screams, the never-ending nightmares, and more importantly, the guilt. It wasn't just the guilt of surviving when so many of your friends and allies passed; it's the guilt of looking in the eyes of young kids—children—and having them idolise you, saying they want to be ‘just like you,’ unknowing of the horrors of war.
It was the guilt of knowing that if you could say anything to those kids, it would be, “Don’t fucking do it.”
And that was all that Adler felt, guilt. He had allowed both his lives to bleed together once his ex-wife gave birth to Philip. Telling war stories instead of fairy tales, teaching his son how to shoot instead of how to ride a bike. All he could think of was how he had failed, failed his son, failed to stop him from joining the marines, and now he had failed to keep his son, his sweet boy, alive.
He had failed, and now his son was dead, and it was no one else's fault but Russell Adler's.
Adler watched as the marines sharply saluted him before turning on their heels and leaving. The shadow lieutenants went to follow, but Adler lifted a hand, stopping them dead in their tracks. “Wait—” Adler cracked his throat dry, and his shirt collar suddenly felt far too tight.
Adler cleared his throat. “Wait, come in, let’s talk,” Adler said, opening the door further, giving the lieutenants enough room to enter. The soldiers exchanged a brief glance before stepping past the threshold of the Adler residence.
Adler sat in his worn brown leather armchair opposite the matching leather couch that the lieutenants now sat upon. That couch was Phillips' favourite spot to sit when they would watch movies; the thought stung and burnt more painfully than any wound Adler had gained from his years of service.
Before the lieutenants could open their mouths to speak, Adler cut them off. “How did it happen?” he demanded, his voice not giving way to his grief. The other lieutenant, Osmond, spoke; his voice was quiet and soft. “Sir—” The second the first syllable left the man's mouth, Adler lifted a hand that now held a firmly crushed cigar.
“No, listen to me. Tell me how it happened, or I will report you for not giving information to a clandestine special officer. Do I make myself clear, soldier?” Adler demanded his voice be barred on threatening.
Osmond’s eyes fell to the floor once again. Vinson placed a comforting hand on his comrade’s shoulder before locking eyes with Adler, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted what happened.
“It was a tank explosion, sir, Commander Garves-Phillip. Was inside at the time we tried to get him out...but...it was no use. I'm sorry, sir. We couldn’t save your son.” Vinson's words filled the quiet space, and Adler let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping down from their usual tense perch.
Adler haphazardly placed the squished cigar in an ashtray placed on the glass coffee table. Adler holds his head in his hands for a moment, running his hands across his scalp, nails digging into his skull, before he runs them over his face, catching the small droplets threatening to fall from his eyes. He lets out another heavy sigh before sitting up straight again, clearing his throat.
“Do you boys have a…replacement lined up for his position?” Adler questions, lifting his head again to look at the shadow lieutenants, who both shake their heads.
Adler hums, eyes tracing over the side table on his left, eyes racing over the videotapes and files that decorated the small table. Adler reached over, plucking a company card from the pile and handing it to Osmond.
“His name’s Case, an old colleague of mine; he’s a good man. If you're still looking for a commander and want someone out of the system, he’s the man you want.” Adler informs his voice, straining with each word, his throat too dry and his shirt too tight.
The pair look down at the company card and then back up at Adler, their faces flickering with unseen emotions. Vinson nods once, “Thank you, sir.” He replied quietly, revving a sharp nod from Adler, followed by a dismissive hand gesture.
Yeah, well, don’t let an old man like me keep you from your duties. My son made it a well-oiled machine; I hope you lot will keep it that way.” He dismissed, head turning to look out of the window at the large garden that he had helped Phillip plant when his son was just a boy; the oak tree they had both planted now stood tall amongst the other shrubbery.
The only sign that the lieutenants had left was the sound of shuffling and the front door opening and closing.
Now Adler was left alone in his quiet estate with no one to wait for.
Before he knew what he was doing, Adler's hands wrapped around the grip of his trustworthy pistol that had been through it all with him from Vietnam to the end of the Cold War and the start and end of the Gulf War.
He had used this pistol to kill Bell, and thinking back on it, the communist bastard was probably laughing in his grave right about now. Ironic.
The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against the underside of Adler's chin, thin streams of tears following down his face, dipping into the crevasses of his scar.
“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”
And with that, Russel T. Adler took his last breath and pulled down on the trigger.
A gunshot echoed through the Adler estate, and in the deepest pits of the underworld, father and son reunited.
This is the type of brainrot that keeps me awake at night. Because I 100% love to believe Ale atleast knows some shit about Simon. And during their mission he must've picked something here and there. And I mean, he's a colonel for god's sake. He has access to things if he wants right?
bit of an open lore discussion here. i know its not confirmed reboot ghost ever actually experienced the whole schtick in mexico but for my own sanity i kinda stitched og ghost's lore to reboot ghosts and i consider that canon to him. most know he was buried alive, broke through the casket and clawed his way to freedom and i personally headcanon that running on adrenaline he made it maybe a couple miles or so before he was found by mexican border patrol.
considering I Consider this all to be reboot, do you think theres a chance that alejandro and rudy heard about the whole thing? i mean, some heavily injured white guy was found on the side of the highway just Walking and the whole situation was almost immediately covered up with lots of red tape. do you think the rumors would have spread wide enough to reach ale & rudy (although they def wouldn't recognize simon just from his name alone) before they were given strict orders to stfu? & then said white guy in skull face paint absolutely slaughters manuel roba & his men, doing the mexican army's job for them? that must've been some scandal 😭
Can we get a sequel to your ‘Selfish’ pricegravesnik? I just really want to see how that goes over
Part two has been sitting for awhile collecting dust due to ✨life✨ distracting me (I started working on part two after I posted the first part, lol). This is split up into multiple chapters on AO3 which is why it was posted on there first
___
Selfish
Part 2
PriceGravesNik
___
Graves first noticed how clear his lungs felt, the loudness of machines around him, then voices on the other side of those machines. Then he noticed the brightness of the room, it made him wince and squeeze his eyes tight to block out the light. After a moment, he cracked his eyes open. It takes a lot of blinking until his eyes adjust but he finally looks around the room. He recognized as one of the rooms in the medical wing. Graves swallowed and became very aware that there was something down his throat and he felt himself start to panic.
"дорогой!"
Graves looks over and sees Nik running from the door. He's kneeling by the bed, one hand running through Graves' hair while the other grabs his hand. Graves could see his eyes full of relief.
"Easy, дорогой. The tube is putting air into your lungs. Oh, зайчик... We were so worried."
Graves slowly calms as Nik holds up his hand and presses several kisses to it. Graves squeezed as hard as he could (which wasn't very hard) as Nik smiled against his hand, holding it against his cheek. Graves looks past Nik to the door and Nik notices. He looks behind him before looking to Graves.
"John was talking to the doctor. Wanted to make sure everything was alright. I'll go get him, okay?"
Graves didn't have much strength to do much but nod. Nik kisses his hand again before he lets it drop to the bed. He leaves and Graves just stares after him, mind fuzzy. He didn't want to think about what lead him to getting in here. He really didn't. Graves knew the moment he started to think about it, the moment he relived what happened, he would start to panic again. And he didn't want to panic with a tube down his throat. So he just closes his eyes and thinks about Nik. Thinks about how delighted he was to see him, how warm his kisses were and how Graves ached for more.
"Love!"
Graves opens his eyes and Price is there. The man doesn't hesitate to lean over and press kisses to the parts of his face that wasn't covered by the ventilation mask. Price swallows hard as he rests his forehead against his.
"God, when they brought you in- Fuck... I was so scared."
"We both were," Nik said from the other side of the bed.
Graves' heart was aching, tears welling up in his eyes. Price pulls away, stroking Graves' face so lightly. It was as if he was afraid Graves would break. Price stands when someone walks in, Graves assumed it was the doctor because of the white coat. Price turns to address the doctor, Graves turning to look at Nik who was sitting on the side of the bed. The doctor steps towards the bed and Graves turns to look at him.
"Alright, Phillip. Let's have a look at you."
_
After a thorough checkup and another night in medical, the doctor allowed Graves to leave and sleep in his own bed... with heavy work restrictions and an inhaler that he had to take a puff of every couple of hours until his lungs recovered. Graves had walked outside of medical and headed straight for his room. Not Nik and Price's room, his. He hadn't slept there since he started dating Nik and Price and the room was pretty much only used to store his things.
But he wanted to be alone. Just for a moment at least. He knew that it wouldn't take long until one or both of his boyfriends sought him out after learning he was released from medical earlier than what they were originally told.
Graves refused to look at anyone, making sure to make his way to his room as fast as possible without pushing himself. He could feel eyes on him as he walked through the halls. Graves reached the barracks and froze when he saw Soap and Gaz talking near his room. He swallows and ducks behind a corner, taking a moment to breathe. He didn't want to deal with them, Graves was sure he wouldn't be able to mentally handle it. Graves leans against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.
I should just go back to Nik and John's room...
They were going to find him there and undoubtedly attempt to question him about what happened. Graves couldn't tell them what happened, what was going through his mind as he tried to run. It would just stir up more trouble for him and everyone already hated his guts. He couldn't do it...
Graves takes a breath, steeling himself before he turns the corner and starts walking. He focused only on the door to his room, ignoring Soap and Gaz. He did everything he could to block them out and pretend that they weren't there. Graves managed to get to his door and pulled out his keys, focused on getting into the room and sealing himself inside. He found himself shaking as he fumbled through the keys, having difficulty finding the one to the room.
"Graves?"
Fuck.
Graves doesn't look over at them, just focuses on putting the key in the lock.
"Fucking- Graves!"
"Leave him alone, Soap."
Graves could see Soap walking over in the corner of his eye and he panics. He manages to open the door and darts inside, slamming it shut behind him and locking it. Graves backs away from the door, hearing the two on the other side but he couldn't understand what they were saying. Graves lets out a shaky breath and sits on the bed. The mattress was new when he had joined but he didn't use it much before he started seeking out Nik and Price's company. The mattress was firm, the sheets and a dusty smell to them, too.
But Graves didn't care about that at the moment. Graves lays down, wondering how long it'll take for Nik and Price to find him. He knew they were going to want to talk about what happened when they found him and he was trying to delay that as long as possible. He doesn't want to hear them say it, doesn't want what he already knows to be put out there. That they wouldn't hesitate to throw him out if it meant to keep the peace with the others.
Graves was never someone's first choice, ever. He's always been second rate no matter where he went or what he did. He had stopped trying to be first place and started to put himself first. Stabbing others in the back, cutting corners, doing everything he could to get himself at the top and get what he wanted. Shadow Company was born from cheating, betrayal, and pure selfishness. It represented everything Graves was. Everything that he will ever be.
Someone knocked on the door but Graves ignored it, not bothering to move. More knocking, someone talking through the door but Graves wasn't listening. He just laid on the bed, staring at the window. He couldn't help but think how beautiful the rays of sunlight were coming through the curtains, dust floating through them with grace similar to snowflakes. The person on the other side spoke louder but Graves was now actively trying to block them out. He grabbed the pillow his head was resting on and folded over his head, still staring at the window.
Then he heard the jingle of keys and Graves felt his heart beat faster. Only a couple people on base have keys to the doors on hand, and he was praying that the one he was thinking of wasn't the one opening his door. The door opened and the voices from outside became much clearer and the pillow no longer was an adequate buffer.
"Graves? Shit-"
"Let's just go get Price! Leave him alone!"
Graves wanted to scream, feeling himself start to shake. They wouldn't leave him alone, they wouldn't be satisfied until he was gone for good. Nothing will be good enough for them. Nothing that Graves will ever do will make things right. He's broken, he hasn't tried to fight back against them since he was taken into 141. He let them push him around, kept quiet like Soap wanted and didn't cause any problems.
"I like you better when you keep your mouth shut."
But... even doing everything they wanted, it still wasn't good enough. Nothing he will ever do will be good enough. He's made his bed, now he has to lay in it.
Graves flinched hard when the door closed, he was too scared to look behind him. He laid there, no longer to find beauty in the sunlight or the dust dancing in it, so he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his breathing pick up, tears pricking at his eyes. He wanted this to be over with but he was too much of a damn coward to do anything. He won't do anything and just let himself be thrown around until he drops dead.
The door opened and Graves prepared for the worst. Something to happen, someone to grab him and drag him away. Something bad needed to happen because nothing else made sense.
"Phil?"
No-
"Love?"
No-
Graves was unable to stop the sob that escaped his lips. The door closed behind him and Nik got in bed behind him, a gentle hand touching his back. He flinched upon contact and the hand jerked away. There was a moment where nothing happened, a moment of stillness. Then Nik gently pried the pillow away from his head, and with his only buffer gone Graves felt exposed.
"дорогой, can I hold you?"
Graves said nothing because he knew that 'yes' would be the only thing to come out of his mouth. Nik lightly touched his shoulder and Graves restrained himself from rolling over and burying himself into the man's arms. Nik muttered something in Russian, it sounded so sweet and full of worry, making Graves' heart ache.
Will he be so sweet when the truth comes out?
"Милый?"
Graves closes his eyes, unable to ignore Nik any longer. He turns and buries himself against the man who immediately wrapped his arms around him. Graves felt Nik press a kiss to the top of his head, muttering something as he held him. Graves felt himself start to cry, knowing it would all be over. He didn't want it to be over, he didn't want to lose Nik and Price. Two men who looked at him for him and believed in him. But they're loyal to their own and Graves wasn't among those people. He was exactly what Laswell said he was: A temporary fling.
"Я люблю тебя."
Graves cried harder, Nik holding him like he was afraid he would disappear if he let go. Graves’ fingers were curled into Nik's shirt, desperate to keep the man next to him. The truth was going to come out sooner or later, he might as well enjoy any affection he can get before things go sour.
Graves wasn’t sure how long he cried, he just knows he cried until he had no more tears to shed. And by that point, when his tears ran dry, he found himself exhausted by it all. Graves pressed against Nik’s chest, wishing Price was there with them.
”I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere…”
Yet.
Graves sighs, taking in the warmth of Nik’s arms and his smell before he drifted off to sleep.
_
Graves expected to wake up alone. But he wasn't, instead he was still being cradled against Nik's chest... with a body pressed against his back. Graves had never been fond of being in the middle during cuddling, something about it made him feel trapped. Nik and Price never pushed him to be stuck between them longer than what he could bear. But right now, it was welcomed.
He felt an arm on his waist, slow shallow breaths. They both were asleep or deeply relaxed. Graves could see that the room was lit by sunlight from the window meaning he hadn't been sleeping for that long. He didn't want to move, afraid everything would end right there the moment he did. So he just stayed there, waiting. He tensed when he felt Price shift behind him, feeling the man kiss the back of his head. It made his heart ache how sweet he and Nik could be.
It clashed against their terrifying personas they displayed when working.
Graves heard Nik mutter something, feel his voice rumble in his chest, "I'm worried about him."
"So am I, love."
Graves could hear their concern and he felt undeserving of it. He had avoided talking to them for too long and he knew he wasn't going to be leaving this room before they got the answers to their unspoken questions. But he was so scared of what was going to happen to him if he told them anything. Everyone here hated him and he imagined it wouldn't take much for them to finally see that standing beside him was nothing but foolish.
"Phil?"
Graves winces, he was thinking too loudly. He was never good at hiding when he was thinking about something. Graves feels Price shift behind him again, probably sitting up. Graves then felt Nik shift in front of him but he didn't make a move to get up.
"Love, can you sit up?"
Graves takes in a shaky breath before he sits up, propping himself against the headboard. Price turns to where he was facing him, trying to meet Graves' eyes but he couldn't look at him. He wouldn't be able to talk if he met either of their gazes. They sat there, no one saying anything at first. The silence became a bit too much for Graves so he went to say something but nothing came out. He closed his mouth, sighing. He needed to speak even though no one had even asked him to.
"I'm sorry..."
"Sorry? For what?"
"I know things haven't been good since I came here."
Graves feels Nik's shoulder brush his and he finally noticed how small the bed was for three grown men.
"Things have been good, Phil."
Graves shakes his head, "No, they haven't."
He's always put on a smile for them. Always acted like nothing was wrong, that he hasn't been miserable. That he hasn't been enduring the torture from those he's hurt hoping that it would make things right. Torture seems to be too much, not the right word. But that's what it's felt like for him. Torture.
"What's been going on?"
Graves keeps quiet, fear slowly clawing its way through him.
"Phil? Please, tell us what's been happening."
He couldn't imagine how this wouldn't end poorly for him. Maybe Nik would hold on for a moment but he couldn't imagine Price turning on them for Graves. They were his boys and Price would do anything for one of his boys. Graves jerks when Price takes one of his hands, Graves finally turning to look at him. Price looked so worried, desperate to fix whatever was wrong. But Graves wasn't sure if he could fix this without any issues. If he even would try.
"We can't help if you don't tell us what's wrong, Милый. We want to make things better."
"Would probably just make things worse," Graves muttered, mostly to himself and instantly regretting everything he's said.
Graves knew the likelihood of getting out of this room without telling them anything was nonexistent. That getting out here unscathed wasn't an option. Graves felt Price take his hand and squeeze so gently, a thumb rubbing over the back of his hand.
“Love… what has been going on?”
Graves shakes his head, "Nothing! Pretend I didn't say anything."
"Phil-"
Graves jerks his hands from Price, tucking his hands into his lap. He attempted to make himself as small as possible, curling in on himself until his shoulders didn't touch Nik or Price. He's said too much and he knows he won't be able to leave until he talked. He's already said enough to make them curious, make them worry. Graves should've kept his mouth shut and played everything off as him just having a bad couple of days.
"дорогой... Please..."
Graves tears up, "I don't want to cause any issues..."
Neither of his boyfriends say anything and Graves lets out a shaky breath. He crawls to the foot of the bed and sits there, trying to figure out what to say first. Their silence was of course accompanied by patience. Patience that Graves didn't deserve.
"Your men haven't been... as forgiving as you."
Price moves, "What?"
Graves has seen Price come to the defense of his boys with the drop of a dime. He's always defended them and Graves had scarcely seen any scolding or disciplinary actions made. Nik has put Soap and Ghost in their place before, but that was long ago and the situation was tense for everyone.
"Is this about Soap? Or Ghost? I've talked to them about their behavior."
"Did you? I never noticed..."
Graves winces at his own words and feels his heart pick up speed in anticipation of Price's response. Nik was quiet, too quiet.
"Why didn't you tell me about the issues you've been having with them?"
"I've seen you bend over backwards to keep them happy. Felt like it would just stir up shit."
There was more silence and Graves hated it, it was too much. So much louder than any words. He would have preferred Price openly discussed how this relationship- This arrangement- has run its course. Nik was still quiet and Price had joined him in that silence, so Graves decided to keep talking. He was already in a hole so why not keep digging.
"I know I'm just entertainment. Everyone else says I am..."
"That's not true."
If Graves didn't know the man by this point, he wouldn't have known that it was Nik who had spoken. His voice was so small, so weak. It was like he forgot what he was supposed to sound like but still forced himself to speak.
"I heard what Laswell said."
Pieces snapped together for them, "You heard that-?"
"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. Was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... She knows what she's talking about. She's always been the voice of reason."
"Phil, that- What she said wasn't true."
Graves felt fingers brush his back and he jerked away without thinking. He didn't mean to but he wasn't expecting any kind gestures at the moment. Graves could feel his heart aching because he could imagine the hurt expressions on their faces… He could also so clearly see anger at what he was saying. So Graves closed his eyes when he felt Price get off the bed, squeezing them shut. He’s always been a coward, unable to face the consequences of his actions.
He could tell the man was in front of him but he refused to open his eyes. Graves flinched when he felt fingers graze his hands. They jerked away for a second before they came back, easing their way around Graves' hands. Graves let his hands be held, still keeping his eyes screwed shut. His hands were moved away from his lap and Graves felt whiskers on his skin before warm lips. He swallows, letting out broken breaths before he opens his eyes.
Price was kneeling on the floor, holding his hands so close to him. After another kiss Price looks up at Graves with such a sincere and loving look in his eyes. There was a pain there, an ache that Graves felt responsible for. Graves feels Nik move closer to him, reaching out to touch him again. This time Graves didn't jerk away and let Nik move close to him, pressing against him back and kissing his shoulder.
"Phil, tell us what's been happening. And please, don't leave out any details."
Graves broke and the tenderness in his boyfriend's voice. So, he started to cry. And he told them before everything that had been happening since he had officially joined 141 ranks. Things were admittedly not bad, not until Graves had grown closer to Nik and Price. He remembered everything went to shit after Ghost saw Graves leaving their bedroom, wearing one of Price's shirts. Since that moment, it felt like it became Soap and Ghost's mission to make his life hell.
They told him nothing he could possibly do would fix what he had done, that no amount of dick sucking and brown nosing would make them ever trust him. Graves didn't want to go into detail about what had been going on but once he started talking, he found himself unable to stop. Price kept a neutral expression as Graves cried, Nik held Graves the entire time. Finally, Graves stops talking and just leans back into Nik's hold.
Nik pressed a kiss to Graves' head as Price stood. While his face didn't display any particular emotion, his eyes were angry. He took a moment to compose himself before he leaned down and kissed Graves. He would then lean over and kiss Nik, muttering something to him that Graves couldn't understand, before he left the room. Fear made Graves shake and he was afraid of what was about to happen.
"We should've noticed, зайчик."
Graves turns his body and rests against Nik, staring at the door. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, like he could breathe clearly. But he also felt regret, guilt, like he was once more betraying Soap and Ghost. Those thoughts washed away with Nik pressing a series of kisses to his face.
"Let John deal with them."
So, Graves rested against Nik. And he let Price deal with them.
_
The silence after Price left made him anxious. An hour after Price left, Nik took Graves to their bedroom to run him a bath in their private bathroom. While Graves soaked, Nik ran to grab him food and whatever else the man could possibly want. He half expected Nik to come back with news about what was happening with Price. But he had nothing to say on the matter and just gave Graves his requested bowl of hot stew and fizzy drink.
After his bath Graves would lay in bed with Nik, Nik giving him full control of the TV. Though Graves spent a good half hour just clicking through movies and shows, not settling on anything to watch, he appreciated the sentiment of Nik giving up control of the TV. He had previously joked that Nik was a tyrant when it came to what they watched because the man never agreed with anything Price or Graves picked. But here he was, not saying a word as Graves just surfed through the channels before just settling on some low rated rom-com.
Price would walk in much, much later. Graves was dozing by that point, not even watching the show while Nik was fully invested into it. They both gave their attention to Price when he walked in, face flushed. He had been yelling, Graves could tell. Price took a deep breath when he had closed the door behind him like he was trying to chase off any remaining anger in him before he crawled into bed with them.
Price had crawled between Graves and Nik, facing Graves and pulling the man into his arms. Graves accepted this, relaxing against Price. He was curious, partially afraid, and deep down he wanted to know if Price had given them hell. Price had a temper that, if let loose, could burn a city down. He had seen it before, had a taste of it. Graves wanted to know if the boys had faced it, if it had burned them.
But he didn't say anything, didn't ask. He just rested against Price, melting against him as the man rubbed his back slowly. Then his hands went lower before Price rolled them over, sticking Graves between him and Nik. Nik immediately turned off the TV and turned all his attention onto Graves. It didn't take long for Graves to become breathless, flushed with want, and completely content with being stuck between Price and Nik.
_
It was a long evening with Nik and Price, neither giving him a moment to think about anything. He could feel their burning kisses and everything they did lingered on his skin. They managed to make him forget about everything, at least for a moment. Graves was nestled between them, completely in bliss and satisfaction.
Then Price got a phone call and the moment ended.
By how fast Price got dressed and left, Graves knew it was Laswell. He couldn't think of anyone else that could spur that kind of reaction out of Price. Graves felt anxious as Price left, Nik also getting out of bed. Graves just stared at Nik, wondering if the man was going to leave as well.
Nik noticed him staring and smiled, "Just going to clean up, love."
Graves relaxed, slumping back down in the bed. As promised, Nik just went to the bathroom for a moment before he returned. Graves watches Nik grab clean clothes, taking his time dressing.
”Heading somewhere?”
”Grabbing some food. Care to join me? Be good to stretch your legs.”
Graves wanted to say ‘no’ and curl up further in the covers, but he didn't and instead decided to join Nik. Graves took his time cleaning up, anxiety rattling him with the thought about leaving the room. He managed to ignore it enough to put clothes on and leave the room, sticking close with Nik as he could manage without actually touching him. They made it to the lounge without running into anyone and Graves sighed in relief.
Nik went through the lounge to the kitchen while Graves chose to sit. His mind was racing, he felt exposed. Any officer could walk into the lounge, anyone could be coming through. Choosing to remain in the lounge instead of following Nik into the kitchen was a conscious decision. He could leave quicker, it would be harder to block him in. Though he didn't doubt Nik would come to his defense if something was to go wrong, he could only think about if he would be able to come quick enough.
Paranoid bastard.
"дорогой, do you want anything?"
Graves nearly jumped out of his skin at Nik calling from the kitchen. He took a moment to breathe before he called 'no' back to the man. He was almost afraid to raise his voice, afraid to attract any attention to the lounge. The last thing he needed was someone to come in and- well, do anything really. He didn't want anyone to look at him, couldn't stand the thought of their eyes on them. Pity, loathing, annoyance— Any such thing would be too much.
Nik comes back from the kitchen and sits down beside Graves. Graves notices the tower of a sandwich in his possession and snorts.
"Have enough for an army there!"
"Enough to share~"
"No thank you, there's no telling what you put in that monstrosity."
Nik rolls his eyes before makes himself comfortable. Graves felt his heart leap, finding nothing but adoration for the man beside him. Then his mind naturally turned to Price and it sunk once more. The call that made him leave so quickly—
Graves jerks his head back as a fucking pickle is shoved in his face.
"Nikolai-!"
"You need to eat something!"
"I'm not eating a bread and butter pickle you psycho!"
Nik was good at getting his mind off of things. Graves knew he was purposely annoying him, purposely making it impossible for him to think about anything other than him. It was something that Graves loved about him.
“Nothing wrong with them! You and John are just weird!”
”Oh? We’re the weird ones? Sorry, babe, but you’re the weird one in this relationship.”
Nik feigns a hurt expression and Graves couldn’t help but smile. God, he loved this man.
Nik ate his food, Graves closing his eyes and enjoying his presence. But the relative silence allowed for his thoughts to brew once more. He frowns, heart aching as he thought about Price. Graves open his eyes, staring at Nik for a moment before he finally said something.
”Do you think John crossed a line with his boys? Or if Laswell is punishing him somehow…”
”Hey, none of that. John is fine. He can handle whatever is thrown at him. The boys got what they deserved and Kate is just going to understand. I doubt she knew what all was going on.”
”Right… because she definitely doesn’t have eyes and ears everywhere.”
Nik sighs, “Phil, she has eyes and ears everywhere on the job. Out in the field, not here. She knows what we tell her and I doubt she’s been given the full story.”
Graves hums. Nik was right, of course he was. He’s smart and he definitely knows Laswell better than Graves. Price was fine… everything was fine…
”What if-“
”Phil I will shove this pickle in your mouth.”
Graves couldn’t help but laugh, Nik looking at him with his softest, most loving glare he has at his disposal. Graves took Nik’s threat to heart and silenced himself. He’ll at least wait until the man has finished all his food before saying something else. He could imagine a few ways Nik would do to hut him up, running into the kitchen to grab another pickle included.
Graves felt a light vibration in the couch which was most likely Nik’s phone. Graves had long abandoned his phone elsewhere (probably now in Nik and Price’s rom somewhere). Nik takes out his phone to check it, poking around until his face gave a subtle hint of relief. He’s a good actor so whatever it was was truly comforting.
”The boys will be getting a talking to… something about teamwork and harassment.”
Graves felt his heart skip a beat, “John is-?”
”And Kate. I told you she would understand.”
Graves let’s out a short, surprised laugh. He slumps against the couch, feeling a weight being lifted. There was of course anxiety about how the boys would react, how they would treat him going forward… but Graves felt at ease, he felt secure where he was.
And that felt amazing.
Everytime Graves goes to Price or Nik to complain about Soap being mean to him. Soap reminds them the "HE SHOT AH FCKING TANK AT ME!!??"
If that doesn't work he goes to, or Ghost who will then follow Graves around while glaring at him a whole day.
Or Laswell who then spoils him, and Gaz, while telling Price and Nik that she can't believe they're treating the sergeants like that, after everything they've gone through. Laswell is extremely disappointed. This will make both of the men feel upset, because no one wants Laswell to be disappointed in them.
Selfish
Graves centric, PriceGravesNik
TW: angst
(my friend called me an emotional masochist for this lol)
___
It felt like everyone was against him. He couldn't blame them with the shit he pulled, but Graves felt like he earned a tiny bit of leeway by this point. Hasn't he proven himself to the others by now? Nik and Price keep telling him they're proud about how much he's changed but judging by how everyone else treats him... he doesn't feel like he's changed at all.
Soap was always fucking him over, getting Nik and Price to turn their backs to Graves (normally only for a few seconds but it still hurt). If Soap didn't succeed in getting Nik and Price on his side, he turned to Ghost. And Ghost never passed up on a opportunity to fuck over Graves. He never physically hurt him, but that man was a master in verbal abuse and had a glare that could kill a god.
It didn't take much for Gaz to get on the Graves hate train and it happened very suddenly. Graves had three against him and felt like he couldn't turn to Nik or Price about it. He was afraid if he said anything that they would realize that everyone was right. That Graves wasn't worth it, that they could do so much better, that him trying to change was laughable and he will never be more than what Shepherd had him do.
He will always be that person, no matter what. It was only a matter of time until they realized it. Graves could hear the clock ticking, there was a constant countdown in his head. Every time Soap said something to them, every time Ghost said something to Graves and berated him, every time Gaz went along with whatever was being said about Graves--
It felt like the countdown sped up, like it would drastically jump to lower numbers.
Graves felt on edge the entire time. Felt like everyone was looking at him, waiting. It was too much. It made his head spin, his heart race, made him lose his breath. Graves kept thinking about what Shepherd told him, that he was nothing more than a walking plague, infecting those around them all while wearing a grin.
He hadn't spoken or seen Shepherd in a long time now but those words were becoming more prominent in Graves' head. He was starting to think he was right. He was a walking plague and he was infecting Nik and Price because they stood too close to him. He was hurting them. Hurting their relationship with everyone. They were taking a leap of faith with him, trusting him to prove to everyone that he has changed and was trying to do good.
It was only a matter of time before that faith and trust blew up in their faces.
Graves couldn't talk to them about it, to anyone. He didn't need to, he knew already. This was a mess waiting to happen, and Graves wasn't sure if he could handle watching it. He was clinging onto the blindly given love and affection from Nik and Price. Their addictive trust, their warm hugs, sweet kisses--
He was being selfish by sticking around as long as he has.
Graves knew he had to leave after overhearing what Laswell told them. He knew Nik and Price cared about her and valued her opinion. They were very close friends, practically family. Graves had always tried to avoid her, he knew she didn't like him and will probably never go beyond tolerating him for Nik and Price's sake.
"You're throwing away your relationship with the boys over him."
Graves heard the venom in her voice, it made him feel sick. He didn't mean to eavesdrop and had stumbled by at the wrong time.
"Kate-"
"No, John. I don't want to hear it. You both have been acting like lovesick teenagers, caring more about a temporary fling than the more important relationships in your lives! Every day I get calls from Soap. Texts from Ghost. Guess what they're both saying?"
Graves leaned heavily on the wall, heart pounding and ache spreading through his chest.
"You're prioritizing a relationship that is going to end in flames. People are going to get hurt and I want you to guess who those people are."
He couldn't stick around. He just started walking. The silence from Nik and Price was loud, suffocating. It said everything that Graves had been telling himself was going to happen: They were finally opening their eyes. The countdown had reached the end and Graves needed to leave. He couldn't bear facing Nik and Price telling him to fuck off, it hurt to think about it. But he knew that they were done with him. After that talk from Laswell? Keeping him around afterwards would be stupid.
Graves could feel everyone's eyes on him. It was too much. He couldn't look up, he didn't want to meet anyone's gaze. He just focused on the floor and walked, trying to keep the ache in his chest from being too much. But that was hard when everything was too much. People talking, their gazes, their very presence made him feel on edge, under attack. Graves needed to leave, needed to disappear.
Graves accidentally ran into someone.
"Fuck- Graves?"
He wanted to scream at Gaz's voice. He couldn't look at him as it became harder to breathe.
"Phillip?"
He bolted. Ran as fast as he could. He couldn't find a door, an exit into the outside world. He found a window instead and climbed out it. He took off after hitting the ground, not caring anymore. He had to leave. Had to run before Nik and Price found him and got rid of him in a more forceful manner. Graves just ran, managing to get off base. He was surprised how far and long he managed to run with how fucked up his lungs were after the tank accident. No, not accident. Soap tried to kill him but failed. Graves was wishing he didn't fail.
Finally, he couldn't run anymore. He collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. His lungs were screaming and he felt even more panicked by his inability to catch his breath. Graves was told to not push himself too hard, that his lungs couldn't handle it anymore. Nik and Price usually watched him, kept an eye on him and made sure he didn't overwork himself. Well, no one was here looking out for him and now he was on the ground, wheezing with black edging into his vision.
He was kneeling on the ground, trying to breathe. He felt himself tip and fall onto his side, staring ahead of him. Sound became muffled, everything started to slow down. He heard something attempt to push against the barrier. He felt someone grab him but he couldn't understand what was being said. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe--
Graves felt himself drift in and out of consciousness, unable to focus on anything, not even a thought. He felt himself be moved, a pressure going up and down his back. Graves felt air slip into his lungs, little by little. After some time he could feel himself breathe better, hear better. He had his eyes shut because the sun was too much. He didn't know where he was or who was with him, but they were trying to keep him alive.
"-to be okay. Breath in... and out..."
Graves slowly followed their instructions, still unable to determine who it was. It couldn't be anyone that knew him, they would've left him to die. Graves felt himself tilt and the person leans against him, a hand going up and down his back, matching his breathing. Sound was returning and Graves could hear the person, a man, speaking calmly in his ear. Though there was a panic behind the calmness, his voice was soothing.
The sound of a vehicle pulling up, rushing footsteps--
"Fuck, what happened to him?"
Soap.
Graves feels panic wash over him again, trying to move away. The man holds him, cursing before he tries to get Graves to stand.
"We have to get him to medical!"
Graves was hauled into the vehicle, the person who saved him holding him while Soap drove (he assumes Soap was driving, unless there was a third, silent, person there at the wheel). Graves felt exhaustion hit him like a truck and he just leans heavily on the man holding him upright. Graves couldn't bother to react to the voices that were maybe talking to him. Didn't react when some grabbed him, held his face. He felt himself get picked up and get carried somewhere. And that's when he finally lost consciousness.
And while he was having difficulty holding onto a coherent thought, he did manage to have one thought that he could actually understand.
I hope I don't wake up.
And just like that, everything stopped being too much.