#next time will not be a helicopter i promise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 3 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.”

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day.

“About how she got to the institute.”

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.”

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance.

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...”

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.”

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.”

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?”

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?”

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.”

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.”

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London.

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting.

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you.

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means.

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more.

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with.

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table.

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules.

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day.

You wonder if they ever get a break.

Maybe this is a break for them.

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority.

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy.

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you.

Except you don’t know your pack.

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first.

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price.

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after.

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you.

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one.

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs.

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall.

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle.

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers.

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now.

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C.

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too.

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back.

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.”

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit.

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.”

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully.

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most.

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing.

“You hungry?” Gaz asks.

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting.

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh.

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well.

The thought makes something flutter in your chest.

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?”

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.”

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.”

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you.

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his.

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower.

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either.

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight.

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table.

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone.

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling.

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.”

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own.

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away.

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand.

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one.

“Captain John Price.” He says.

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves.

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other.

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep.

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta.

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.”

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA.

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.”

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond.

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.”

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says.

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.”

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.”

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.”

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.”

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.”

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things.

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.”

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond.

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks.

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says.

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second.

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.”

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want.

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction.

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.”

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.”

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.”

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole.

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face.

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?”

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base.

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.”

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega.

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world.

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age.

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas.

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up.

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check.

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack.

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings.

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world.

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you.

Or maybe they would have been worse.

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.”

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.”

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?”

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.”

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask.

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?”

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer.

“And how did that go?”

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.”

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it.

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares.

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer.

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns?

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center.

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways.

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center.

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks.

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night.

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit.

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.”

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.”

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.”

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning?

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being.

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel.

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space?

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.”

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him.

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit?

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence?

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response?

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself.

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive.

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.”

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble.

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you?

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives.

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside.

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over.

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.”

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.”

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought.

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that.

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk.

An unneeded disruption to their lives.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you.

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate.

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you.

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet.

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?”

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.”

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!”

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself.

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?”

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.”

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.”

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says.

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game.

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap.

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him.

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?”

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.”

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch.

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder.

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again.

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.”

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state.

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up.

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made.

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.”

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.”

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face.

Taglist:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx, @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @blue-blue0, @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey, @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee, @141trash @ghostlythots, @lothiriel9, @dillybuggg, @beebeechaos, @konigsmissedbeltloop, @kaoyamamegami, @thychuvaluswife, @idkkkkkkk8363, @wallwriterstuff, @bisky-business, @smile-child-13, @anomiatartle, @dangerkittenclaws, @bless-my-demons, @mystic60, @evolutionarry, @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff, @cadotoast, @linaangel, @rancid-wasp, @codsunshine, @thriving-n-jiving, @slayerx147, @ferns-fics

(If you'd like to join the taglist, let me know!)

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

2K notes · View notes

dante-mightdie · 3 months

Text

part 4. of toxic simon

a/n: got a few ideas from my requests on what to add for this part so thank you very much, ash loves you <3

cw: kidnapping, weapons, murder, angst, comfort, themes of smut

It had been a few weeks since simon had walked in on you and alex. since that night, there had been a dramatic shift in the price home. the once broody lieutenant was now just the pure embodiment of rage and misery.

he barely left the guest room for the whole of his leave. and when he did, he was causing problems. never in front of your father, however. he's not stupid. but he constantly felt the need to size up alex in front of you. looming over him with that fucking mask on, flexing his muscles.

alex never indulges in simon's desperate attempts to pull a viscous reaction from him. to make you see that your new man isn't that much nicer than him, darl'. so you might as well come back to what you know.

no, instead alex leads you out of the room. not without a soft mumble of 'let's go sugar. you don't need to be hearing this.' simon wonders if you've told alex about him. about how he smashed your heart into a million little pieces.

he's gotten low a couple of nights. resorting to snapping mirror picks in his tight black briefs after his shower. you there were no identifiers that it was ghost. no, only you knew it was simon.

he's a bastard. he knows he wont get a response from you. he will, however, get to listen to the hushed bickering coming from you and alex that night when he sees the photo.

alex got called away on duty after a big fight between the two of you. It was clear that you hadn't made up by the time he left, either. simon can tell by the way you moped around. barely speaking to anyone in the home. simon tried to speak to you, hoping to score back some points whilst things were rocky between you and your man. you just brushed him off, sulking back off to your room.

later that night when simon was laying in bed, his phone buzzed with a text from you.

'simon' was all it read

simon rolled his eyes, feeling like a kicked puppy after you ignored him, he decided to ignore your message. puts his phone down and rolls over to go to sleep, ignoring the constant buzzing of his phone from behind him.

simon was sure he got a few good hours of sleep before being violently woken up to a strong hand shaking his shoulder.

"simon. simon, get up." he recognises your father's panicked voice calling out to him. he's groggy for a few moments before your father says two words that hit him like a bucket of ice water,

"she's gone."

simon feels and ice cold chill run down his spine at your father's words.

"my daughter she's fucking gone. someone took my fucking daughter."

simon had to stop price from tearing the whole house up, grabbing his shoulders and promising him that they will find you.

simon and price are on base the very next morning. along with alex, gaz, and soap. everyone is deadly silent, standing tall and ready as their captain briefs them on how they're going to get you back. Alex has a tick in his jaw and simon is sure he's going to snap if anything goes wrong

10 minutes before they ship out and simon is having a cigarette, trying to ease his nerves. he hadn't even checked his phone yet and it only just clicked in his brain that you text him last night. those messages were still unopened on his phone. with a weight on his chest, simon unlocks his phone and feels his heart sink when he sees those texts,

'simon? is that you?'

'simon seriously I can hear noises downstairs'

'are you outside my door?'

'simon, please. i'm scared.'

you were calling him for help.

simon has been fighting down bile for the past 45 minutes. the helicopter ride certainly not helping ease the horrendous amount amount of guilt he's feeling. neither is watching alex bounce his leg nervously, or price chain smoke cigar after cigar.

it's a long trek from the drop-point to the abandoned warehouse where they suspect you're being kept. simon trudging through the mud behind everyone else, praying that no one says a word to him.

"if my intel is good, she's in that building there." alex says, pointing down to the building.

"this is a weapons free op, boys. shoot to kill. do what you need to do to get my girl back home safe." price commands out in his gruff voice, but you can hear a slight edge to his tone. a streak of nervousness that simon has never seen in his captain.

It's a clean sweep once they breach the entrance, bodies dropping in quick succession. room after room being swept and an anxious feeling hanging on everyone's shoulders each time they don't find you.

simon makes his way to the basement floor, taking out the hitmen guarding the heavy metal doors at the end of the dark hallway. he pushes the door open slowly, gun raised and ready to take out an immediate threats.

there were no threats in the room, simon quickly realised, just you. poor, terrified you huddled up in the corner with chains attached to your wrists and ankles. shaking violently like a feral cat. the fear in your eyes causes simon to immediately lower his gun and raise his hands in a 'I-mean-no-harm' way.

he takes a couple hesitant steps towards you, careful not to frighten you even more.

"hey..." he whispers, "it's just-"

"she's here!"

simon was cut off by the sound of alex alerting everyone to your safety. he immediately rushes past simon, knealing in front of you. the second you recognise him, you're reaching for him as sobs start to make their way from your throat.

"It's alright, baby. I'm here, I got you. You're safe now." alex coos to you as he scoops you into his arms, leaving simon to stand behind him like a ghost.

the sight of you reaching for alex instead of him makes simon feel as through someone is prying his rib cage open with a crowbar. he felt truly left in the dust. but he can't blame you, no. this was his fault.

he lost.

#mw2 #ghost #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #toxic!simon #alex keller x reader #alex keller

3K notes · View notes

midnightarcheress · 17 days

Text

Simon travels with you.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: mentions of stalking/threats 3 | gold rush masterlist.

the flight is strange. he was used to flying on an excruciatingly loud helicopter, with adrenaline overflowing on his bloodstream as he prepared to jump in the field, or in a simple commercial plane back to Manchester after a long deployment, dwarfing on cramped corridors and elbowing people sitting beside him. a private jet was far too removed from his reality.

but not from yours. from his seat on the back of the plane, he would glance at you from time to time, crossed thighs on the soft cushioned seats like you were simply lounging at your own sofa, not cruising miles up in the air, with eyes attentively going over the plans for the next few days with Daniel.

he doesn’t understand half of it, but you’re some sort of spokesperson? ambassador? of cosmetic’s brand, whatever that’s supposed to mean. everything he hears just passes straight through his brain. he just cares about what he’ll have to do – follow you around like a guard dog who’s not allowed to bark.

“last time you promised me a day off, Dan. what’s the point of all this travelling if i can’t even explore the city i’m in?” a huff escapes your lips, utterly annoyed by the limitations of your schedule. a life too micromanaged to bear any autonomy.

“i told you there’s no time for a day off, you have back to back appointments–” the man stops, staring at the puppy-eyed gaze you give him, the magical pout that would get anyone on their knees, “fine. i guess i can arrange a free afternoon before we leave.” Simon can’t help the hint of a smirk forming under his mask after you got what you wanted, internally commending your ability to bend any resolve without lifting a single finger.

after landing, you head directly to the hotel to get ready for the big event. Simon’s stuck with you in a room that’s almost as big as his entire flat, bored out of his mind watching frantic people dolling you up – activity he sees no purpose in, since you couldn't get any prettier in his eyes. his eardrums are already hurting from the constant noise in the place, but still functioning enough to pick up the double knock on the door.

you also hear it, shifting on your chair and glancing around the room as if you were looking for someone, until your eyes land on him. “Ghost?” you say, head tilting in the door direction, “could you get that, please?” he sighs and nods, pushing himself away from the wall to answer it.

the hotel employee hands him a bouquet of white lilies, courtesy of the brand, the man says. as soon as the lock clicks again, Simon notices your beaming smile at the arrangement in his possession, eyes shining like a child in the toy section. he passes you the bouquet, not missing how your smile fades into a frown the second you skim through the small card hidden between the flowers, raising an alarm flag in his brain. “something wrong?”

“what?” your eyes dart between his and the paper in your hands, quickly tucking it in your robe pocket, “oh, no, it’s nothing.” your lips curve, barely so, tentatively brushing off the topic as you finish getting ready. his brows furrowed, not fully accepting your dismissal and sensing that you’re covering something, but he doesn’t want to press you in front of everyone. he just hopes that you’ll trust him enough to come to him if it’s another threat.

he’d seen the content of a few of the letters you received, as a part of his briefing, just to understand what he was dealing with. some of them were pathetic expressions of emotion, serving you undying devotion and promises of eternal love, but some were filled with a predatory fury, a mixture of jealousy and hunger, visceral descriptions of how they wanted to rip you apart. all with the same signature. you never talked about the situation, never addressed to him the necessity of having a bodyguard. he could only imagine the turmoil of fear inside your chest.

a couple hours later, much to his relief, the event ended, allowing him to take you back to the hotel without having to hear any more french buzzing for the rest of the evening.

“Ghost?” he stops on his way out, hand hovering on the doorknob and face turned to you. every time you call him, he feels a piece of his defence wall crumbling, determination to keep his distance slowly disappearing due the sweet sound that travels through the air. “can you, uhm, help me?” you look over your shoulder to the back of your dress, the zipper being impossible to reach without dislocating a joint.

his brain momentarily freezes, scrambling to form a quick and coherent yeah, sure, or to simply shake his head in agreement. he takes a step closer, letting you turn around and move your hair before daring to touch you.

“funny how after the party there’s no one to help you clean up, right?” your eyes roam around the empty room and you chuckle, but the saddened tone of your laugh is easily recognizable, “so different from earlier.” his large digits find the invisible zipper in the fabric, slowly tugging it down as his other hand stays on your lower back for support.

his heart is thumping loudly, the gradual exposure of your back being sufficient to divert his blood flow and make him feel something that he definitely shouldn’t. despite the profound temptation to trace your naked spine with his fingers and to lean closer to your soft neck, he steps back, clearing his throat and going back to the exit, “so, uhm, goodnight then."

you turn slightly, holding the gown by your chest and gently grinning in gratitude, “goodnight, Ghost.”

lol took me so long to write this, i'm still scrambling with the ideas/scene sequences for the story (but now it has a name)

206 notes · View notes

upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months

Note

You should make one where Wanda and nat get taken by the snap and it leaves there 14 year old daughter for her to grow up alone, later when they return there surprised to see her grow up. You can add some angst of her not being able to trust them and so on.

The blip

Summary: Broken families take time to heal.

Pairing: WandaNat x daughter!reader

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 1771

a/n: finally some fics yay

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Y/N was given to Maria Hill, a close friend of Natasha Romanoff, to care for while her mothers fought Thanos with the rest of the Avengers. It’s already been hours without any kind of notice on what’s going on, which made her incredibly nervous. But this was her mothers’ job, she was used to it.

“They’ll be alright, they always are.” Maria states as she notices Y/N tearing away the skin around her nails, blood already gathering to the wounds. “Not even Thanos can beat them.” She gives her a comforting smile, sitting next to her.

Y/N hums with a nod. “I know, Aunt Maria.” She mumbles. Her mothers have always come back home, just like they promise when they leave through the door. This time wouldn’t be any different. They wouldn’t dare to break such a big promise.

“You should eat something. I could order us a pizza and we could watch a movie to take your mind off of it all?”

“Sure.” Y/N appreciates the way Maria tries to comfort her. She doesn’t usually watch over her, as most of the time she’s working with the Avengers, but this time Natasha personally asked her to stay with Y/N. Maria was only one she trusted to do anything in her power to protect their daughter.

Looking through movies, Y/N decides on Frozen. A childhood favorite of hers, a movie her moms had to sit through just a few too many times, though they never complained. She leans against the couch, waiting for Maria to come back so they could start the movie while waiting for food.

Something drops to the floor.

Y/N turns to look towards the kitchen where Maria was just standing in, but is now completely empty. “Maria?” She calls out. Frowning, she stands up and walks over. “Where’d you go?” Her foot accidentally kicks something under the fridge. She groans and kneels down, moving her hand around to find whatever slid there. Finally grabbing the object, she pulls it out and stands up. It’s Maria’s phone.

The phone call is still on going. Quiet hellos coming through from the other side, until the pizzeria hangs up. Gripping the phone in her hand, she starts going through the rooms of the apartment, looking for aunt Maria. She doesn’t understand where she could’ve went so quickly, especially without her phone.

Her breathing picks up and heart starts beating faster when she realizes Maria isn’t there anymore. Before she can fully comprehend the situation, loud crashing comes from outside.

Running to the window, Y/N opens the blinds and sees pure chaos. Cars crashing into each other, a helicopter falling down, people screaming and running and..disappearing into dust. A deep pit grows inside Y/N as she stares at the scene unfolding in front of her. Her moms, she can feel this’ll be the first time they break their promise.

The hallway is loud as multiple students laugh and talk over each other. Everyone is walking towards their next class, through not all of them are in a hurry to do so. Some of them sneak off to the toilets or hidden parts of the stair well together, while others just walk out of the university building, simply not bothered to be there. Y/N is one of those people.

Her hands are in the pocket of her jacket and the hood of her hoodie is pulled over her head. She’s trying to be as small and invisible as possible. And she has been, invisible, for the past five years. She doesn’t have friends, only some people she can barely call acquaintances, nor does she have any family left.

No one really knows where the blipped people are. People got tired of trying to figure it out after three years. Y/N lost hope of getting her moms back two years before that. She knew she had to get used to being alone, and that she did.

She finished high school and got into college, barely, but her education was always important to her moms, and she couldn’t bear the feeling of disappointing them, even if they weren’t with her.

With a grunt, Y/N pushes her door open with force, cursing at the poor condition of it. Her apartment is in bad shape, but it’s cheap, so she has to live with it. Slamming the door shut, she throws her keys to a bowl and slumps down to the couch. Closing her eyes, she leans her head against the back of it after putting the television on to fill the never ending thoughts running through her head.

The television is playing old reruns of How I Met Your Mother, which makes Y/N laugh bitterly. She used to watch it with Wanda, who desperately wanted her to share the love of sitcoms with her. She just never found them that funny. Now she wishes she did. She wishes she could laugh at them like her mother did.

She blindly switches the channel. There’s no use in pretending to like sitcoms now.

The apartment gets filled with sounds from an action movie. Her body relaxes as she takes a deep breath. However, loud knocking from the other side of the door jolts her body back up. Her face turns into a frown as she stands up to go to the door, nobody comes to see her.

Y/N opens the door, her eyes widening the moment she recognizes who is standing in front of her.

“Y/N?” Wanda whispers, eyes full of tears and hands covering her mouth. Her little girl is all grown up. They missed so much. She takes a step forward, but Y/N instantly takes a step back. The hurt is evident on her face.

“You’re back.” She mumbles.

“We’re back.” Natasha smiles. Tears are already streaming down her face. “Can we come in?”

Y/N opens the door wider, letting Wanda and Natasha in before closing the door. They all stand there, no one really knowing what to say or do. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Wanda’s eyes trail over her, looking for any physical wounds. “The only thing in my mind while we fought Thanos was you.”

“Thanos is gone?”

“Yes,” Natasha answers, “for good.”

Looking away from her moms, Y/N tries to process everything. Her eyes are stinging from the unshed tears and her hands are shaking do much she has to hold them behind her back so they wouldn’t see. She scrunches her brows together. It’s been five years.

“Little one?” Wanda sets her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. The urge to hug her daughter is overpowering, but the way she stepped back from her swims through her mind. She doesn’t want to overstep.

“Don’t call me that.” She mumbles, swatting away her hand. Her voice is harsher now. “I’m not okay. I was left alone for five years. I had to grow up at 14.” Y/N stares at her mothers. In the logical part of her brain, she knows her parents aren’t to blame for it, but the anger she has felt all these years is taking over.

“It’s horrible that you were alone for so long, we feel awful for not being there for you. You’re all grown up, and you had to do it without us.” Natasha takes a slow step forward, as if not to trigger Y/N. “It’s unfair. So unfair to you. You shouldn’t have gone through that.” Her voice cracks. She can see the pain in Y/N’s eyes. She was never able to hide anything from her.

“But we’re back now.” Wanda leans down slightly, coming to the same level as Y/N.

“No. You don’t know me anymore.”

“You’re still our girl.”

“No.” She shakes her head. Her breathing is getting more rapid as her face turns into anguish. It feels like all the feelings she has pushed down are coming out all at once. The lump in her throat is growing and her sight is getting fuzzy. “I’m not her anymore. I haven’t been her for a long time. I’m an adult now and I don’t need you!”

“Nothing could take our little girl away, you hear me?” Natasha is now close enough to set her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. She’s holding tightly enough so she won’t run away, but still gently so she won’t hurt her. “We know who you are deep down no matter what, because we are your parents,” she moves her hands to cradle crying Y/N’s face between them, “we are here, whether you need us or not. But we need you. We need our girl to be here.”

The minute Y/N’s cries turn into inconsolable sobbing, both Natasha and Wanda wrap their arms around her, carefully lowering to the ground. They whisper sweet nothings into her ears, while crying themselves. Knowing their daughter was alone for five years makes their heart ache for her in a way they have never ached before. Their daughter is the most important thing to them, and they weren’t there to protect her from the dangers of this world.

“We’re so sorry, little one, so sorry.” Wanda whispers, her face buried into Y/N’s hair. She holds her eyes closed as she takes in the now unfamiliar scent of her conditioner. It’s not the kid’s strawberry one she has loved for years anymore, she doesn’t recognize it. The feeling of everything about her being changed in what felt like five seconds to them feels so difficult to understand. It is partly true that they don’t know their daughter anymore, but Wanda eager to find out everything.

“I missed you.” Y/N says once her sobbing has stopped and her breathing has calmed down. “I missed you so much it hurts.”

Natasha kisses her cheek. “We’re never leaving you alone again.”

Pulling away slightly, Y/N sniffles. “You can’t promise that anymore. I was without you for a long time, you can’t expect things to go to the way they were five years ago.”

Wanda’s thumb rubs Y/N as she nods. It’s difficult to hear those kind of words, considering the gap has been significantly shorter for them. “We understand,” she moves Y/N’s eyes to meet hers, “but we have to try, okay? Because I refuse to lose you.”

Y/N nods, leaning her head against Wanda’s chest, completely exhausted from the day. She closes her eyes as Natasha plays with her hair and Wanda hums a Sokovian lullaby, just like they did when she was a kid.

788 notes · View notes

reaper-chan666 · 2 months

Text

More random Snake Hybrid! Reader headcanons:

CW: Slight mentions of blood, gore, injuries, and snake behaviors, also, soft Gaz and Ghost hours.

Snake just got off the helicopter, caked in mud, dirt, dust, and whatever grass they had on your last mission, not to mention the blood and guts from the enemies you killed. You looked terrifying, like you had rolled in all of it for a week.

Price gave everyone a chance to do generic debriefs on the way back, with the promise of more in depth ones later, after everyone was clean and ok.

Snake was wearing a muzzle, their pupils still blown wide, and acting aggressive, their snake instincts taking over, especially after Gaz had been shot. They were plastered to his side the whole ride back, hissing at anyone who got too close.

Back ar the base, Ghost gently grabbed them by the back of their neck, immobilizing their head, and picking up the rest of their body right after, taking them to the showers, or in Snake's case, the tub. The 141 men learned really quickly, that their snake Hybrid HATED the feeling of showers, it was too much for their skin, so they got a tub installed and one of them would always stay close by when Snake needed to bathe, just to make sure everything was OK.

Snake was wriggling as best they could, trying to get out of Ghosts arms, but the tank of a man held strong, and got them into the bathing room. With slight struggle, Ghost got Snake's gear off, and got them mostly undressed, leaving them in a tank top and their shorts they always wore under their uniform pants. He held Snake close and softly murmured to them, getting them to calm down enough that Ghost could bathe them without either person getting hurt.

After the bath, Ghost was able to determine if Snake was injured, thankfully this time was minor scratches from the environment they were in, and got them dressed in comfortable clothes, before leading the still muzzled hybrid to the med Bay.

They entered the med bay, and Snake made a beeline to Gaz's side, making sure he was taken care of well. Once they determined that Gaz and Ghost were both good, Snake's pupils returned to normal, and their body finally relaxed. Gaz removes the muzzle and apologies flooded from the hybrid's mouth, which they were quickly hushed by Gaz and Ghost.

They spent the next week with Gaz during the day, and at night in Ghost's room, which made the task of keeping them calm a lot easier.

Ghost and Gaz would hold Snake and reassure them that everything's fine, and that Gaz would be back at training in no time.

End.

A/N: should I give Snake a nickname? Or callsign? Or do yall like them being referenced as Snake, and making your own?

#cod #hybrid reader #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #reaper chan's writings #not canon #cod hybrid au

186 notes · View notes

from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much.

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction.

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time.

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.”

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway.

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness.

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit.

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care.

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time.

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way.

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to.

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with.

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast.

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder.

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him.

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway.

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened.

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen.

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin.

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder.

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen.

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs.

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes.

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t.

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower.

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering.

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks.

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it.

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous.

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet.

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected.

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time.

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally.

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?”

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement.

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him.

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.”

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts.

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him.

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse.

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces.

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating.

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet.

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that.

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing.

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms.

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it.

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again.

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it.

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?”

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.”

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now.

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger.

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now.

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth.

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree.

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….”

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top.

“That’s it, nice and slow.”

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread.

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again.

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him.

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens.

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows.

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart.

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again.

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange.

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think.

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass.

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks.

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession.

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips.

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you.

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there.

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected.

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel.

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger.

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little – just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose.

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture.

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously.

“Yes, please, please,”

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often.

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.”

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made.

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper.

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“No.”

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much.

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t.

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t.

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had.

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more.

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this.

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it.

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though.

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic.

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response.

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted.

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him.

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head. Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side.

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him.

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?”

“You do.”

“So…. I’ll teach you.”

“....Okay.”

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do.

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart.

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this.

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

2K notes · View notes

sonarspace · 2 months

Text

jjk men and valentine’s day

a/n: eeekkk went a little crazy on nanami and sukuna's parts. hopefully i'm not too late, happy v-day! celebrating it with fictional men for now :3. content: gojo x reader. geto x reader. nanami x reader. sukuna x reader. (fluff!) not proofread… wc: 1.1k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

gojo

he wakes you up with kisses all over your face. excited to celebrate another valentine's day with you. "happy valentine's day pretty girl," he giggles in your ear. he takes you out to shopping to find an outfit for your evening together. he sits outside of the fitting room as you try on outfits and ask him his opinions which is useless cause he swears you look good in everything you've tried on and ends up buying all of them. during your evening together he takes you on a helicopter tour of tokyo, your first time seeing the city like this. "this is beautiful satoru," you smile at him sitting next to you in the pilot's seat. "i think so, too" he smiles at you. "thank you for spoiling me," you joke with him.

geto

he gets flowers and chocolates delivered to your place. sends you a "happy v-day baby. see you soon" text. you spend the entire day together. in the morning he takes you to a flower exhibition. a floating garden with an array of flowers hanging. it was all so beautiful. you were elated. for dinner he takes you to your favorite sushi place. you talk about nothing and everything. however your valentine's day isn't complete without a stuffed animal. even when you were just friends, suguru would show up with a stuffed animal and flowers on valentine's day to cheer you up. and when you both started dating, the suffed animal on valentine's day became a tradition. the arcade is closing as you both reach and you ask them to let you play a quick game but they deny you entry. suguru drops your hand and walks over to talk to the manager privately and slips in some money in his pocket to keep it up and running for another hour. just the two of you in the arcade it reminded you of your high school days. you end up losing at the game where you have to knock out the cans with ball. desperate to win the stuffed panda. you pout at suguru as the manager comes to you and tells you that time is up. "one more game and we're out" suguru promises. he uses one of his curses to help him win and scores you a stuffed panda. you add it to your stuffed animals collection, all given to you by suguru over the course of your relationshiop.

nanami

he doesn't think today is any different to any other day of the week. "just another way for people to make money," he told you before. it's your first valentine's day with him. you're not really expecting anything from him today but you personally loved lovers' day, so you decide to decorate your apartment with different shades of pink and red. heart shaped knick knacks strewn around. he walks out of your bedroom dressed for work. "good morning," his voice is gruff. "too much?" you ask him when you see him look around with an amused smile. "no, i like it. it's cute." he smiles softly at you. "my place tonight." he tells you as he kisses you goodbye. you're surprised when you walk into his apartment. the floors covered in rose petals creating a path to the balcony. he's standing by a candle lit table with a boquet of flowers in his hand. he chuckles quietly when he sees the look of surprise on your face, "happy lover's day," he says as he hands you the boquet. you go on your tip toes to peck his lips "did you do all this by yourself?" you smile at him. "eh yeah i know how much you love today, so i thought i'd surpise you" his says shyly looking away from you. you pull his face back to face you and kiss him fully "thank you". his cheeks hurt from trying to control his smile but a blush takes over his face. he didn't mind that you had that effect on him. after dinner he slides a box across the table "but i didn't get you anything," you pout as you look between the box and him. "it's okay. you don't have to. just open the box." you unwrap the box and find a key sitting in it. you look up at him confused, "will you move in with me?" he speaks softly. your mouth falls open at his question and your eyes fill with tears of joy. you nod feveriously getting out of your chair and moving over to him quickly. "yes yes" you mumble into the kiss, manuvering yourself in his lap.

sukuna

"what the hell is valentine's day?" he asks you his hand running through your hair.. "a day to celebrate love. and lovers." you chirp from your place on his chest. this would be his first time celebrating valentine's day (well frankly his first time being in a relationship too). he hums. "so you're my valentine?" your heart squeezes at the way he asks that question. "do you want me to be?" you retort giggling. "yeah," he blushes slightly. "okay, then lover boy. you're my valentine too," you tease. he wants to do this right he thinks so decides to surprise you. much to his dismay, things don't go as planned. you walk into the kitchen and smell something burning. "ah fuck" you see sukuna standing near the oven. a tray of burnt cupcakes in one hand. another hand on his forehead in disappointment and two hands on his hips as usual. "suki?" he yelps when he hears your voice. "you shouldn't be here" he huffs. "what's wrong? let me help." you approach him. he puts the tray of cupcakes down. and you notice piping bags filled with red and pink frosting. "this isn't how it was supposed to go. i remember you mentioned how much you loved chocolate cupcakes so i was going to surprise you but now they're burned. so much for doing things the right way, huh" he pouts as he rambles. "it's okay. they dont look too bad," you try cheer him up. he tilts his head at as to say 'we both know these are not edible'. "we can fix this suki, look" you cut off the burnt part of the cupcake and mash them into small circles. you grab some sticks from the drawers and place the circles on the sticks. "cake pops!" you wiggle it in front of his face with a satisfied smile. he pushes your hand down and pulls you in close to kiss you. his tongue slipping in your mouth as his four hands pulls you in tight. "can't believe you made me fall in love," he whispers into the kiss.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

224 notes · View notes

theemporium · 9 months

Note

Heyyyy,

Hope you’re doing well, i am literally obsessed with your works. And i am a certified Daniel girlllyyyy soooo 😘

Could i request a Daniel x Sunshine where Daniel is out on a boys night, and sunshine is out with her friends but they both can’t stop thinking about each other and end up leaving early to get home, and just as soon as they see each other they can’t stop saying how much they missed each other lmao

Thank youuu

thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

He was halfway through typing a message to you when he felt his phone be ripped from between his fingers.

“Oi!”

Daniel sent the Dutchman a pointed look, one that looked borderline murderous. However, Max just looked pleased with himself as he held Daniel’s phone just out of his grasp.

“Mate, give it.”

“No!” Max scoffed and shook his head, passing the phone to Lando next to him. “You’ve been on the damn thing all night.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Charles piped in with his hands raised in mock defence when the Aussie’s glare whirled onto him.

“I just wanted to make sure she’s okay!” Daniel defended.

“She’s with her own friends,” Lando pointed out, almost a little too smugly. “Who are probably giving her as much shit as we are giving you considering you’re—oh, I don’t know—meant to be enjoying the night with us.”

The Aussie only scoffed slightly. “Sorry for being a caring boyfriend.”

“More like a helicopter boyfriend,” Max grumbled under his breath, only to wince slightly when his teammate reached out to pinch his side. “Ouch!”

“Just give me back my phone,” Daniel asked with his hand extended out. “Please. I’ll send one more message and then I’m done for the night.”

The boys all looked at each other, an unspoken conversation exchanged between the glances before eventually Lando sighed and handed him the phone across the table.

“One message,” was all he said and Daniel didn’t bother hiding his grin.

However, when he looked down at his phone, he was surprised to find a handful of messages from you already, sent in the short amount of time he had been bickering with the other boys. His eyes glazed over the messages, suddenly glad the dark club couldn’t really pick up on his blushing cheeks.

sunshine: i miss you :(

sunshine: these margaritas are strong af

sunshine: fuck i wish you were here

sunshine: i wish i could kiss you rn

sunshine: i wish i could do more than kiss you

You weren’t an overly affectionate person. It just wasn’t in your nature and Daniel had always respected that, he hadn’t minded all that much that you preferred to show your love behind closed doors where it was for him and him only. Yet, that being said, all of that went out the window the second you had some alcohol in your system.

You had various personalities that popped out when you were drunk, but the most common one and Daniel’s personal favourite was your clingy drunk side. The side of you that just wanted to melt against him, to wrap yourself around him and kiss him every thirty seconds like you’d die without him.

Selfishly, he wished he was with you the second he saw those messages, knowing that was the exact state you were in. He glanced around at his friends, a small pang of guilt working through him before he promised himself he would make it up to them.

grumps: come home, i’m waiting for you

He slid his phone into his pocket, clapping his hands against the table to catch the other drivers’ attention before he gave them a sheepish smile. Lando was the first one to pick up on the meaning behind his expression.

“Seriously?” The Brit whined. “We just got here!”

Daniel shrugged. “The missus gets what the missus wants.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Is it what she wants or what you want?”

“Listen, when you have a super hot girlfriend waiting for you, you’ll understand,” Daniel simply stated, ignoring the way a few of the boys opened their mouths to reply before he quickly made his way towards the exit.

He was home before you, which was unsurprising considering the club he was at was a walking distance from your shared apartment. The second he had made it through the door, he made his way into the kitchen to slide a pizza into the oven that would be done by the time you arrived home, though he decided against the glasses of wine he was about to pour.

Daniel made a beeline towards the door the second he heard the lock clicking, a grin already on his face before you all but threw yourself against him. He laughed, sliding his arms around your body and lifting you off your feet as he hugged you close.

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest before nuzzling yourself closer. “You smell nice.”

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he murmured with a grin, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head. “I missed you too.”

“Next time you’re coming with me,” you sighed.

“Or you come with me,” he suggested, laughing slightly when you lifted your head.

“My friends are more fun,” you said to him, glaring slightly when you noticed him struggling to hold back his amusement.

“Nah, you’re just still pissy that Max beat you at the shotgunning contest,” he teased, one arm still wound around your waist to hold you off the floor whilst the other raised to push some hair behind your ear.

Your eyes narrowed. “He’s a cheat.”

“He won fair and square, baby,” he murmured before leaning down to kiss your lips before you could say anything else. “C’mon, the pizza is almost ready.”

You sagged against him, the glare long gone and now replaced with a massive grin. “Did I mention that I love you?”

Daniel grinned. “Not nearly enough, Sunshine.”

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one oneshot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

425 notes · View notes

sinkovia · 3 months

Text

Civilian casualties

John Price x GN!Reader

Angst with comfort, reader has mental health problems, price being a father figure.

Your hands moved with urgency, fingers dancing across the intricate wires of the bomb strapped to the terrified civilian. His pleas for help, mentioning his wife and kids, echoed in the tense air.

Your breathing was labored, a mix of adrenaline and the weight of the ticking clock bearing down on you. Price, ever vigilant, watched your back as enemy operators closed in on the rooftop.

With only 30 seconds left, panic clawed at the edges of your determination. The seconds seemed to slip away faster than your fingers could work.

The civilian's tear-stained face and desperate words fueled your determination, but the complexity of the bomb defied your efforts. Price, sensing the diminishing time, placed a hand on your shoulder.

In your focused desperation, you shrugged off Price's hand. "I can do it, Price, I just need more time," you assured him, Price swiftly moved, eliminating another operator with lethal precision.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing to keep up with the urgency of the situation. Glancing at the timer with only 10 seconds left, Price made a tough call. He forcefully pulled you away, urgency etched across his face. "We don't have more time."

The man fell to his knees, desperate for your help, and you stood there with tear-filled eyes, a silent witness to the impending tragedy. Price, without hesitation, pushed the man off the building, and his scream echoed in the air just before the bomb detonated. The blast reverberated through the air, the shockwaves reaching every corner of your being.

Price grabbed your arm and ran towards the fire staircase clinging to the side of the building. The world around you blurred as you ran behind him, your senses overwhelmed. Running became a blur, the disorienting sound of ringing in your ears accompanying each step.

Reaching the ramp of the exfil helo, you found yourself dissociating, the traumatic events unfolding in front of you leaving you numb. As you boarded the helo, Price's hand on your shoulder brought you back to the present.

"Y/n, look at me. It's not your fault, okay? We didn't have the luxury of time," he reassured. Nodding, you took a seat as the helicopter lifted off, carrying you both back to the base.

You sit alone in the dimly lit room, a heavy weight on your chest. The familiar voices of doubt and self-loathing echo in your mind. "You're worthless," they whisper, a cruel refrain that plays on a loop. You think about the times you've let people down, the mistakes you've made, and the unshakeable feeling that you never get anything right.

The darkness within you seems to grow, feeding off every one of your failures. "Why bother trying? You'll only disappoint them again." The faces of your team flash before your eyes, each expression a mirror reflecting disappointment.

You remember the times you promised to do better, to be better, only to fall short once more. "You're a burden," the voices taunt. "No one needs you. No one wants you." The weight on your shoulders becomes unbearable, and the room feels smaller, closing in on you.

The thought of being a constant source of letdown gnaws at your insides. "Why can't you be like them?" the voices hiss, comparing yourself to an idealized version that seems unattainable.

Your achievements, no matter how significant, are overshadowed by a relentless sense of inadequacy. The room feels colder, and the isolation intensifies. The battle within your mind rages on, a relentless war of self-deprecation.

The next week was hard for you; the haunting images of that man begging for his life played over and over in your mind. The weight of it bore down on your already fragile mental state.

Despite being accustomed to civilian casualties, this particular event seemed to cut deeper. You withdrew from your team. Weeks passed, and you spoke less, ate less, and your sense of self-worth deteriorated day by day.

Even before this incident, you battled self-doubt. Every glance in the mirror reflected someone you hated, convinced that you couldn't get anything right. The guilt over not being able to save the man only made these feelings stronger.

If only you had been better, that man might still be alive. You felt like a constant disappointment, failing those who depended on you. The weight of your failures bore heavily on your shoulders, and with each passing day, your mental state crumbled.

Price noticed the toll it took on you. Without a word, he approached your room, gently knocked, and you ushered him in. Silently, he closed the distance, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. As tears streamed down your face, you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions against his chest.

His hand went to the back of your head, holding you a bit tighter before he spoke. "I'm proud of you, Y/n. I hope you know how worthy you are and how much you bring to the world. You're stronger than you think."

Tears streamed down your face as he continued, "I'm proud of you for not giving up, no matter how many times you've wanted to. For choosing to keep on going, for continuing to show up each day despite what you've been through... You bring so much light to the world."

As his comforting words washed over you, your breathing steadied, and you sniffled against him. He spoke with genuine care, "I hope one day you can see yourself the way the team sees you. We love you so much, Y/n. Never forget that."

Your voice, shaky and vulnerable, responded, "I'm pulling everyone down with me. I'm not the person they think I am."

He shook his head reassuringly, "No, you're not dragging us down. We're here for you, through thick and thin. Your struggles don't define you. You're stronger than you realize. Just one step at a time, Y/n."

The weight of your emotions pressed on, "But what if I'm too tired to take even one step? What if I just want to give up?"

"Then let us carry you for a while," he said softly. "It's okay not to have all the answers or to be strong all the time. Lean on us, share the burden, and let us help you find the light. Giving up is not an option."

Your pain surfaced again, "I don't want to burden anyone. I just want the pain to stop."

"You're not a burden," he emphasized. "Your pain matters, and so do you. We're here because we care, and we want to help you find your way back to the light. You deserve happiness and peace. Let us be there for you, even when you feel like giving up."

He pulled you away gently, and you gazed up at him with tears in your eyes. "We are a family," he declared, handing you a tissue as you wiped your eyes and nose, a small, understanding smile shared between you.

"One day at a time okay." he put his hand on your shoulder and you smiled, "One day at a time." you say softly. "Come on, the boys were in the kitchen cooking.

“They wanted to cheer you up." you let out a small laugh and follow price out of your room. "Let's hope the kitchen isn't on fire."

Price laughs next to you patting your back. "I have strong doubts."

Father when will you say any of these things to me.

171 notes · View notes

allur1ngs · 4 months

Note

OKKK SO WE KNOW HOW BADAS LOKE WHEN Y/N GETS SICK BUT IMAGINEEE.. hwat me out okay..y/n gets sick while baba is on a business trip… I FEEL LIKE SHE’D BE EXTRA WORRIED BC SHE CSNT BE THERE TO TAKE CATE OF HER AND MAKE SURE SHES HESLTHY she’d probably cal hyo every hour to get updated

the timing of this ask is crazy cause i think i'm getting sick😭 but you're so right, she'd be worried out of her mind. but can you blame her when both of your lifestyles are so dangerous?

even before you get sick, just the thought of leaving you has her gnawing at her lip anxiously.

"are you sure you'll be okay without me?" bada asks you again, the handle of her black suitcase clutched between her fingers.

you roll your eyes playfully at your wife, sighing as you move to her side. "i'll be fine, it's only five days. besides, kirsten needs you in australia."

bada looks between your eyes, a frown settling on her pink lips. "you'll text me every day, right?"

"of course." you smile, taking her unoccupied hand and weaving your fingers through her own.

"and if anything happens you'll call me so i can take the next flight home, right?" she emphasizes. "no matter what it is."

"yes, i promise." you laugh a bit at bada's worried demenour.

"don't worry boss, we'll take care of her." tatter speaks up, her and all of the bebe girls--except for lusher, who's accompanying your bada on her business trip--standing behind you with confident looks on their faces. "no one will lay a hand on her."

bada still looks unconvinced but glances over at hyo, who's standing off to the side. "keep me in the loop about everything that goes on in here." she nods at your bodyguard.

hyo quickly stands tall, nodding back hurriedly.

"i want daily reports at minimum, keep your phone on hand because i'll be checking in whenever i have time." bada says sternly.

"yes, boss." hyo answers back immediately.

still looking hesitant, bada turns back to you, the cold in her eyes melting away to mush. "i'm going to miss you." she says quietly, bringing her pointer finger to drag it across your cheek.

you close your eyes at the sweet action, sighing blissfully. "i'm going to miss you too."

your wife lets go of the handle of her suitcase and places her hands against your cheeks. she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "take care of yourself, please."

࿐

the entire ten hours and a half of her private jet ride, bada stares out of the window, watching the clouds pass by like fluffy mountains of cotton with deeply furrowed eyebrows.

"i don't get why you're so worried." across from her, lusher snacks on the food the flight attendant brought. "you should really eat, by the way."

bada tears her eyes away from the window to watch lusher, her expression unamused. "i'm not hungry." she says gruffly. "and i'm worried because i haven't been separated from her this long before. what if something happens while i'm away?"

"if something does," lusher responds calmly, "the girls will take care of it. you need to stop worrying."

although it seemed like lusher's words were able to placate bada's qualms at the moment, they didn't stop her from becoming a helicopter wife.

bada calls you the second she lands in australia, when she gets to her hotel, and stays on the phone with you until nightfall.

the following morning she factimes you and asks to see what you're wearing for the day, as well as what you plan to do. it's almost like she hadn't left at all.

...that is until the third day of her trip--her busiest day--when she hadn't been able to call you at all until later in the evening.

bada holds her personal phone up to her ear, checking her watch periodically as the dial tone beeps in her ear. two rings pass until the other line picks up, making her breathe a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding in.

"hello?" she calls out immediately.

"hey, boss." a tired-sounding hyo picks up.

bada stands up straight, her eyes narrowing. "why are you answering from my wife's phone?"

hyo briefly remains silent on the other line before she opens her mouth, about to speak, but is cut off by bada's worried voice.

"did something happen?"

"well..." hyo trails off. "yes."

"what is it?" bada shoots back, her voice rising in volume.

"...she's sick." hyo sighs, rubbing her eyes on the other side of the phone.

"sick?" bada says, her tone pitching upward in surprise. "how bad is it?"

"she has a pretty high fever and a stuffy nose." hyo reports.

"when did she fall ill?" bada's eyebrows furrow, a sinking feeling burning in her stomach.

"last night." hyo admits. "her fever began relatively low, but then her temperature slowly started to rise. we were worried we'd have to bring a doctor to look after her."

bada closes her eyes, mentally cursing herself for leaving you when she had a feeling you'd need her. "so why didn't you call a doctor or me?"

"we wanted to, believe me, but she asked us not to. she didn't want to worry you." hyo pauses, "and the fever started to calm down a bit."

bada sighs, resting her head against the wall behind her. "are you there in the room with her?" she hears a hum on the other side of the phone. "facetime me, i want to see her."

hyo complies, factiming bada and walking over to your bedside. when your wife finally catches a glimpse of you, her heart aches.

your eyes are closed as your chest rises and falls a bit laboriously with sleep, perspiration from your sweat making your skin glisten under the light. your eyebrows are furrowed together in discomfort while tatter and minah who are just barely in frame wipe a cold towel across your cheeks and forehead.

they briefly look up to see bada, their worried looks never diminishing, even when they wave at her. your wife can barely wave back before a small noise makes hyo move the phone back in your direction.

your eyes slowly flutter open, your lips parting as you blearily look around until you see bada's face on the screen of your phone.

"bada?" you croak, shuffling closer to hyo to get a better look at your wife.

"hi honey." she answers back softly. "how are you? i heard that you're sick."

"i have a fever." you sniffle, barely able to keep your eyes open because of how exhausted you are.

"baby..." bada trails off, giving you a faintly scolding look. "i told you to call me if anything happened. i was worried."

"i'm sorry." you say timidly. "didn't wanna bother you, especially when you're so busy."

"honey, i'd rather have known than be kept in the dark. remember what i always tell you?"

"never keep secrets if they're about something important." you parrot back like a scolded child. behind you, tatter takes the towel off of your forehead, dips it in a bowl of water filled with ice before she places it back on your forehead and dabs it against your skin.

"that's right." bada nods. "call me next time."

"i will.." you say solemnly. "but don't worry about me, okay?"

"you're sick." bada asserts. "naturally i'm going to worry about my wife being ill."

"it's not that bad anymore," you respond weakly.

bada is about to speak when the sound of someone knocking on the door of the room she's in reaches her ears. she glances away from her phone and sighs, realizing it's time for her to return to her meeting. "hold on, there's someone here. i'll mute myself but stay on the line, hyo." she tells your bodyguard.

hyo flips the camera so bada can see her nod before she flips it back to you.

on the other line, bada turns to the door. "come in." she calls out in a slightly annoyed tone.

the door opens and kirsten steps into the room, looking very upbeat. "just wanted to check in and see if everything was okay. you were taking a while."

"sorry kirsten." bada sighs. "i need to head back home early."

"really?" kirsten's expression melts into one of confusion and slight worry. "is something wrong?"

"my wife has a high fever." bada responds. "i would like to go back to take care of her."

"oh, that's terrible." kirsten breathes sincerely, her eyebrows furrowing. "you should fly back then. don't worry about staying any longer, i managed to close the deal while you were in here."

"thank you, kirsten." bada says gratefully, moving to shake her friend's hand.

"it's no problem, you should be there to take care of your wife." kirsten smiles. "tell her i said hi when she gets better."

"of course." bada nods.

so she rushes to fly back to korea on her private jet, and returns home early the next morning to stay by your side. she feeds you, watches over you, and waits on you hand and foot until you get better<3

(she doesn't go on buisness trips for a whole year after that incident...)

#౨ৎ melody's newsletter #bada lee x reader #bada lee x reader fluff #not this being long😭

306 notes · View notes

cmncisspnandmore · 4 months

Text

Coming home to you: Captain John Price X Reader

Pairing: Captain John Price X Wife reader

Warnings: Slight OOC John (? maybe??), mentions of dead child, mentions of death, typical COD violence. Sad john.

A/N: This is probably going to either be a mini series, or maybe even a whole series. Im not entirely sure yet, but I cant get Farmer!John Price out of my head. So here it is. This first part kinda gives you a look into what I feel like can happen when missions are tough and John is able to come home to someone he trusts completely, what happens behind the scenes.

Word Count: 2412, On the shorter side, mainly setting the scene. next part will be longer.

You toe off your mud caked boots as you pull your hood off. Droplets of rain fall to the dark hardwood floors. Leaving a small puddle on the floor, a deep sigh leaves your lips as you look down at the mud tracks. You had just washed that this morning, which you wouldn't have done if you had watched the weather and knew that you were going to be getting rain and Gale force winds this afternoon.

But while John was gone, you couldn't bring yourself to watch the News. There was always this dreadful turning in your gut when we tried to watch the News when he was on deployment. The kind of anxiety you feel when someone says they need to talk to you. You remember the first time you watched the News after you and John started dating, he was away on deployment. You had sat down on your small couch in your too small flat, curled up with a cup of coffee, and watched the morning News like always. It wasn't until they announced that a Military Helicopter had been shot out of the sky that you started to panic.

You called John 8 times that morning, begging him to pick up the phone, to tell you he wasn't on the helicopter. But he didn't answer once, it wasn't late that night that he finally called you back. Apologizing profusely for not being able to call you sooner, he spent almost 2 hours on the phone with you that night. Shushing you as you sobbed, telling him how you thought he was dead all day. John was patient with you, he explained it wasn't his helicopter that he and his team were safe. He told you how he couldn't receive cell phone reception until they got back to the base they were working out of, and how he was so sorry you went through that.

From that moment on you promised to never watch the news while he was gone, you would wait for someone to tell you personally that something had happened. Because you never wanted to feel that way again. So now during John's deployments, no matter how long, the Tv in the living room remained off.

“Pretty wet out there huh?” A deep voice rumbles, John's shadowy figure leaning against the wall, his boonie hat pulled down shielding his eyes in the dim lighting of the kitchen.

“Bloody Hell!” you gasp, your hand flying up to your chest. Your eyes wide as you look up from your wet shoes. “You scared the hell outta me!” You scold, desperately trying to keep your smile at bay.

John pushes off the wall, his blue eyes trailing up your body as he takes in your wet clothes and hair. “Just now, I didn't mean to scare ya, Sweetheart,” he smiles as he stands in front of you. His tight fitted gray shirt stretched across his broad chest, as he reached forward, pulling you into his arms. You instinctively wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into the center of his chest.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into the soft fabric, the scent of tobacco and his cologne flooding your senses. The nagging voice that constantly whispered all the terrible things that could happen while John was away finally quieting, as you held onto him.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry I was gone so long… Things didn’t go as planned…” he clears his throat, as he pulls you a little tighter.

You pull back slightly so you can look at his face, in the dim lighting of the kitchen you can see how tired he is. Deep purple bags under his bright blue eyes, his skin a little paler, his usually well kept beard is longer and in need of a trim. “Is everyone okay? Did.. Did they all make it home?” You whisper, one hand coming up to rest along his cheek, your fingers smoothing down some of his facial hair, trying to tame the too long strands.

“They all made it home Baby, Soap is a little worse for wear but he’ll be okay..” he leans down pressing a kiss to your forehead. You were always so worried about the members of his team, although they were around your age you were more like a Mother Hen to them. Always fussing over them when you got to see them, even Simon allowed you to fiss over him. Price thought it was funny to see the hulking 6 '4 man follow your orders, you had even convinced him a few times to let you tend to a wound under his mask. He had of course only agreed as long as you did it in a private room so no one outside of the team could see his face.

“How were things around here?” Price asks after a moment, pulling you back into him, tucking your head under his chin.

“It went well for the most part. Although I think something fell on one of the fences in the big back pasture on the edge of the property. I had put the sheep out there a few days ago and Mr. Watson showed up a few hours later with Michelle, his little herding dog and a few of our sheep. He said he found them standing outside his fences by his sheep.”

“Well. first thing in the morning we’ll go out and check the fence line, i’m sure this storm is probably going to do some damage,” He mumbles, as the wind howls against the old farm house. The glass panes on the windows rattle as the wind whips around. Leaves and rain swirling across the ground as it pours down.

After a few moments of listening to the rain and wind, you pull away from John. Reluctantly stepping out of his warm embrace, you pull your wet jumper off, leaving you in nothing but a thin t-shirt. The ends of your hair leave small water droplets on the thin fabric. “I didn't make anything for dinner..” you mutter as you glance around the kitchen, trying to mentally take inventory of what you can throw together for him.

“Don't worry about it, Sweetheart, I’m honestly not that hungry,” John says softly, as he takes his boonie hat off. He tosses it onto the table and runs a hand through his hair, it's slightly longer than the last time you saw him. A little on the wild side much like his beard.

“Are you sure?” You ask, brows furrowing. He was thinner than the last time you saw him, of course he was still a force to be reckoned with. To most people they wouldn't be able to tell that he had probably spent the last few weeks in the field, surviving off MRE’s, but you could. You knew John's body better than anyone. You had a habit of studying him while he was home, constantly trying to burn the memory of him into your brain, in case he didn't come home.

“I’m just exhausted, Sweetheart, I was kind of hoping we could head to bed early.. I just.. I just want to hold you,” he scrubs a hand across his beard, blue eyes burning into you. There was something he wasn't telling you about his last mission, but you knew not to pry. He would tell you when he was ready, and if what he needed right now was to hold you then that's what you would give him. Without a moment of hesitation you lock the back door and grab his hand, pulling him towards the stairs.

Even in the dark you could navigate the house with ease, you knew this house better than anyone. Maybe even better than John, with the sheer amount of time you spent cleaning and taking care of the old house while he was away. You did everything in your power to make the house as warm and inviting as possible for when he came back. As you reach the top of the stairs John's hands wrap around your waist. The warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of your shirt. He gently guides you towards your room, the door open revealing the spacious bedroom.

It was bigger than the other 2 bedrooms on the second floor, but it was still cozy. The four post bed against the back wall, the bay window on the left that was adorned with soft pillows and fuzzy blankets. A few stacks of books left on the floor, from the last time you sat there and read. The fireplace was stocked with wood and newspaper all ready to be lit. The glass doors open slightly to allow easy access for whoever was to light it. The soft gray duvet laid on the bed, slightly rumpled from where your elderly cat had napped on it during the day. The grumpy old barn cat had decided a few years ago he was going to be an indoor cat.

He had run in one morning and refused to go back out, so now during the day when the sun was out you would often find him lounging on your bed. Basking in the sunlight, until someone came into the room. When night time came around he was often sleeping downstairs on his lavish cat tower you had ordered for him. Soaking up the warmth from the fireplace you usually had lit.

As you walk into the bedroom John quickly releases your waist, crouching down next to the fireplace where he lights the newspaper. After a moment the wood catches and he closes the glass doors, the fire light flickering across his face as he stares into the flames.

“John?” You whisper, coming to stand behind the tall man. Your arms wrap around his waist as you lay your cheek in the space between his shoulder blades.

“Hmm?” John hums quietly, his hands coming to rest over yours.

“I know.. I know you don't like to talk about it..” you pause a moment, “but if you do want to talk about it.. I’m here.”

“I know.. Im..” John fumbles over his words, “I..” his voice cracks.

Your heart breaks as his voice breaks, his shoulders pulling tight as he struggles to contain his emotions. This massive mountain of a man was hurting, and there wasn't anything you could do to help. Your arms tighten around his waist as his breathing grows ragged, his large shoulders shaking slightly as he cries. You don't move, your head resting against his shaking form as you hold him. “Shh… it’s okay… it’s okay…” You whisper, as your own eyes burn with tears.

John has always been calm, cool and collected on the outside. That's what made him a great leader. He was able to compartmentalize in the worst situations. He would never let the members of his team or even his enemies know that something had bothered him. He was ruthless on missions, and straight to the point. He was every bit the hardened soldier he needed to be on the battlefield.

But at home, where he didn't have to be the grumpy superior of his team, he was softer around the edges. He was a man who cared deeply for those close to him. He wasn't a stone wall of impasse, it was here tucked away in the quiet of the countryside that he allowed his walls to come down. He allowed himself to feel the things he locked away while deployed. It was in the soft light of the fire that he showed you the parts of him that enemies would use against him.

John Price was just as much a human as anyone else.

You wanted nothing more than to be able to erase the horrors that plagued him. To chase away all the horrible things he witnessed in the field.t. You stand there for a long while, continuing to whisper soft reassurances to him, your hands pressed flat against his chest as he struggles to pull air into his lungs between sobs. It takes him several minutes to be able to calm down enough to speak again.

“There was a woman… She.. got caught in the crossfire.. She was killed.. Her 6 year old daughter watched. We tried to help her but the girl was just too far gone after everything that happened, when we went back to the small village to look for anything that could give us a clue to where the man we are after went.. I found her.. She was just hanging there…” His voice cracks. “ A 6 year old little girl hung herself after watching her mother die.. And I just keep seeing her hanging there.. So small and lifeless..” He whispers, his voice hoarse as he relives the horrors of finding her.

There's nothing you can say to make him feel better about what happened. There were no magic words that could take it away. There was no way of bringing the little girl back or making the scene erase from his memory. So you just guided him to the bed, having him sit on the edge. Gently pushing his shoulder so he laid on the soft fabric duvet. You climbed over him, curling up into his side, your head resting on his chest as you laid there. Allowing him to hold you against him. His arms wrapped around you, pressing the entire length of your much smaller body against him. The warmth from your body grounding him. John closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I try not to bring this stuff home.. But I just couldn't stop thinking that maybe I was faster.. If I had gotten there just a moment earlier I could've saved her mom.. And in turn saved her. But I wasn't there in time. I wasn't able to help her..” He whispers.

“It's not your fault.. You didn't pull the trigger, you didn't know she would take her own life.. She was 6.. Not many 6 year olds would do that.. But the kids in those places. In the face of constant war and death… they’re sometimes already too far gone. It's not your fault.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“I know.. I just need some time.”

“Take all the time you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Next: Part 2

Taglist: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

#call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #captain john price #john price #captain price #john price x reader #john x reader #price x reader #Captain price x reader #call of duty x reader #Farmer!Price X reader #Farmer!Price

152 notes · View notes

jungwnies · 11 months

Text

☆*:・ﾟenha birthday special

syn ' how they treat you on your birthday pairing ' bf!enhypen x gn!reader

author's note ' since it's sunoo's birthday month as well as mine i thought i would do a cute birthday special :)

word count ' 1.15k

이희승 ' lee heeseung

he would be the one to do something so intimate

he doesn't really get a lot of time with you considering their recent comeback

but today he is dedicated to treat you well

either cooks breakfast or has breakfast ordered so when you wake up you can eat immediately

takes you out for lunch

takes you out shopping

literally treats you like a prince(ss)

buys you a very sentimental gift tbh, like a promise ring or necklace and makes you swear to never take it off

when you get back from lunch the boys pop out of no where as well as some of your friends and surprise you :(

heeseung took you out because he wanted to throw you a surprise party and let's say you were definitely surprised

you weren't expecting a party, but when you saw everyone your heart felt warm

(rest underneath the cut)

박종성 ' park jay

kind of similar to hee

very intimate day but lowkey you guys just stay in

he doesn't want to go out

he makes you breakfast in bed, has your favorite movies

literally greets you in the morning with a bouquet of roses or your favorite chocolates

its like valentines day but your birthday

maybe a little more than a kiss in the morning, if you're thinking what i'm thinking hehe

makes you dinner and makes you dress up because he sets up candle lights

dims the room

and then pulls out his gift

which is probably so expensive, and definitely has your birthday carved into it

just a sweet and intimate day with the two of you guys since he feels like he never gets time alone with you :c

심재윤 ' sim jake

greets you in the morning with flowers & your gift

it's definitely a necklace, he loves the way they hang from your neck ;)

tells you to get ready so he can take you out for breakfast and lunch

literally has a whole bucket list for your birthday filled with things you told him you wanted to do over the past few months

he takes you everywhere

the amusement park, the han river, a Photo Booth, an aquarium, a cat/dog cafe, literally you name it and he's taking you there

you were confused why you were at the hybe building as the last stop

but when you walk in literally all your friends, family, and enhypen including some staff you've made friends with over the years of you dating jake jump out and surprise you

why does this lowkey make you wanna cry though? like why is jake so sweet

and then gives you another gift

a promise ring because he swears he will always be by your side no matter what

literally tells you happy birthday and tells you he will be at every birthday for you even if he's out of the country

he will come back just for you :(

ugh i love him fr !!!

박성훈 ' park sunghoon

literally doesn't know what to do so he asks for help

he thinks surprise parties are stupid tbh

he wakes you up in the morning with breakfast in bed though

tells you he loves you all the time

he takes you out to eat and takes you shopping

he literally takes you into a helicopter just he can show you around all of south korea lOL

will literally buy anything if you ask

he sees you eyeing something? it's already in the car

he feels bad for not throwing you a party but honestly who even has time for that 🙄

takes you out to one of your favorite places to eat, literally rented the place out just for the two of you guys

makes it all cute and romantic (jay told him to do this!)

pulls out a necklace and apologizes if you didn't enjoy your day which lowkey makes you sad

you did enjoy your day!

promises next year will be better, but nothing will top the night the both of you had together 😉

김선우 ' kim sunoo

omg he plans the cutest day ever for you

wakes you up with literally a dozen gifts

jewelry, clothes, plushies, just all of your favorite things

makes breakfast for two

it didn't turn out the best but the effort was there and that's all that matters

asks you what you want to do today because he something planned for you later

and he takes you out to wherever you told him

literally so much fun whenever you're with sunoo it's really unbelievable

surprise party at the end of the day at a really cute barnhouse

all your friends and family and enhance are there to surprise you

literally themes it after your favorite things

literally makes you want to cry

양정원 ' yang jungwon

PLEASE HE'S SO CUTE

wakes you up face to face with him

he's doing his bling bling eyes and he's like "happy birthday jagi"

UGHHHH sick to my stomach because he's so cute

when you get up from bed tell me why enhypen jump out behind the couches and yell scaring you but also greeting you good morning and happy birthday

surprise breakfast party :c

because he wants to spend the rest of the day until night time just alone with you

takes you out and around showing you everything and buying you whatever your eyes land on tbh

ends the night with snacks and your favorite movie

and then he pulls out the gift he bought you

which makes you want to cry because it's so

ITS SO SENTIMENTAL UGH

screaming crying and throwing up over this

waits for you to fall asleep before you do and then wishes you happy birthday one more time right before it hits 12am

😭

西村力 ' nishimura riki

so sneaky serious mastermind

literally pretends to forget it's your birthday

LITERALLY DOESN'T SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR THE WHOLE DAY AND IT MAKES YOU KINDA MAD

you ignore him and he feels bad but he's gotta go through with his plan

it's around night time now like 9pm and riki is like "let's go out"

and you're like okay maybe, maybe he's just been waiting

he takes you to one of your favorite restaurants, but why was it dark inside?

when you walk inside every shouts happy birthday and riki kisses you and apologizes

literally looks at you with such sincerity and he's like "i'm sorry babe, but if i didn't ignore your birthday i would've spilled"

pulls out a gift from the inside of his pocket and hands it to you

literally the prettiest necklace /or bracelet

literally took like like 2 months to pick it because he couldn't decide which one you'd like more

ends the way with the two of you guys in bed watching your favorite movies

being cuddled up with riki >>>

595 notes · View notes

vandal-flower · 5 months

Text

Memories From the Past

Ror men with a little sister like Qiqi from Genshin Impact.

Requested Characters: Hades, Jack the Ripper and Sasaki Kojiro.

Notes: I promise there is fluff. Also I'm saving for Navia.

Hades

There isn't a day that he doesn't worry for you. Ever since you turned into a zombie, you became forgetful.

He gets so worried over your well-being, he becomes a helicopter parent.

Many of the gods see you walking around lost, and him trying to find you.

It's like a game of hide and seek, except you aren't really hiding for your life and he's trying to find you with his life.

He often has to drag his brothers to also find you. (He shan't struggle alone)

Often times, the two of you play games together. He loves seeing you smile.

According to him, you're the most high maintenance child he's met in his entire life.

Which is true. (Sorry to call you out like that)

Congrats, you've been titled "The Most High Maintenance Child in the Greek Pantheon"

"Poseidon, I don't care if you're free or not, just find (Name)!"

Jack the Ripper

Often times, Jack thinks back to when you were your old self.

You were so lively, and now you barely what you want to say next when you interact with someone.

Often times his tea time is interrupted by the occurring thought of your whereabouts.

Only to find you in your room sleeping soundly. (My guy nearly had a heart attack)

He reads fictional stories to you, as he thinks it helps you bring your old self back.

He also likes to dance with you, when he isn't trying to get caught for his crimes.

In the after life, he usually keeps you close to him, afraid at the thought of you getting lost in such a place.

He usually has you staying with his valkyrie, Hlökk. (Hlökk, also enjoys your company.)

"(Name), what story would you like read to you this time?"

Sasaki Kojiro

To be honest, my man over here decide mind.

Sure it's sad that you're now a zombie, but he believes he can move past this.

He keeps watch of you, but allows you to go free. He believes children should explore in order to experience.

He's not all that worried about you and your safety unlike the other two. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get worried at times.

Like Jack, he often looks back on the times before you became a zombie. He knows it hurts, but as long as you're here with him, he's happy.

He introduces you to his friends and allies. (Just in case you need someone to take care of you)

He likes teaching you how to wield a blade, so if you find yourself in a bad position, you can defend yourself.

Nonetheless, your big brother is always there to help you!

"Did anything exciting happen today (Name), I would love to know?"

I'm sorry this request has been molding in my inbox.

My inbox is open. Check out my Rules.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv hades #ror hades #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper #snv sasaki kojiro #ror sasaki kojiro #vandal-flower

228 notes · View notes

armins-main-hoe · 1 year

Note

Hi i rlly liked ur recent haikyuu manager post!! Could u make a karasuno and nekoma version to that?

Take ur time :D (ignore if don't want to do)

Thank you for liking the post! I'll write up any type request as long as I know who the characters are :)

Here is the link to the previous post.

"Oh no, you've got it all wrong. She does bite."

Karasuno and nekoma version

When you first signed up to be the manager for the boy's volleyball team, you really didn't think much of it. You only signed up because your parents wanted you to go to some sort of after school club.

You didn't like any of the clubs so you decided to be a manager for a sports team. Besides, you didn't think a manager would have to do much since most of the organisation for matches would be done by the teachers and coaches.

So here you are on your first day being introduced to the boys in the team.

Karasuno

(You can decide whether its Yachi or Kiyoko's place your taking)

You honestly didn't know much about volleyball but this was the only club left without a manager so here you are standing before the boys as you are introducing yourself to them.

"Hey, I'm Y/n L/n and I'll be your manager from now on."

Things went well and your parents laid off your back for a good while. Though for the first few practices you really didn't have a single clue with what was going on. You would sit, leaning your back against the wall, on the side and watch the ball go from one side to another while they yelled at each other.

To be honest, you didn't get the hype about the sport but you did your duty as manager as best you could.

The boys were wary of their new manager. Often glancing at her every now and then and she would always be looking at them with the same scary expression.

They knew the girl's scary reputation, everyone did. Why she ever chose to be their manager baffles them even to this day.

When Asahi said 'hello' to you for the first time he was pretty nervous and he ended up sounding a little odd. You thought he was trying to intimidate you or something so you glared at him.

Square up Asahi, Y/n about to swing some arms.

Daichi came in between you both, explaining to you that Asahi doesn't mean any harm. He is a friendly giant, promise.

"Yeah he better be."

But over the next few practices, you realised that Asahi really was the BFG so you apologised to him later.

Nishinoya gets on your nerves everyday. Like everyday. He'll be walking back to class and he'll bump into you on purpose. He'll shout "YO MISS MANAGER!" if he sees you across the hallway or streets. Unlike Asahi, this boy was looking to get beat up. He is the cause for 90% of your headaches. The other 10% goes to Kageyama and Hinata's bickering.

Not even a whole month goes by with you as their manager and you have nearly given each team member a smack or punch.

Over time though, you do get pretty close to the boys and you care about them though you might show it, you wouldn't actually ever say it.

When they have practice matches with other teams from other schools and that other team decides to talk shit about your team, you having a field day swinging your fists like helicopter blades.

Though you don't actually ever get very far with your punches to have a field day before the coach or a teacher stops you.

Oikawa once tried to flirt with you. He failed miserably.

By now you understood the game much better and 100% agreed with the hype about it. Would you ever play the game yourself? With these boys? No.

Why? Well have you seen the force at which they smack those balls? (lmao great wording) Like you smack other balls with that force but as a beginner who hasn't ever physically payed volleyball herself, they'd hand your ass back to you even if they were going easy on you. Help, Nishinoya would be a PAIN to deal with after.

Maybe you'll stick to being a delinquent manager and not a player.

Nekoma

Believe me when I say that Taketora was over to moon when he found out his team now has a manager. He was gushing and blushing about it for days.

He came back down to earth when he saw it was you though.

The infamous Y/n.

Just his luck.

But little did he and the rest of the team know, you actually really liked the sport and knew a lot about it. You would give them lots of pointers and took down notes of their strengths and weaknesses.

You threatened to beat them up if they didn't improve in your given time frame.

Did you ever beat them up? No you didn't, apart from Lev.

Lev has a very cheerful and playful personality and he doesn't even realise when he teases you for your height or whatever else. So he gets beat up with your clipboard one to many times.

Okay now I think about it, I think Kuroo would also be on your 'to hit' list. He is very good at provoking people and you. So he is also hit by your clipboard a few times too.

the poor clipboard is worn out.

You took this sport very seriously. The members often wondered why you didn't decide to play as a member on the girls team instead. When they asked you, you replied with

"It pains me to think that you lot would miss out on an awesome manager like me if i were to be a player instead, also because I know I would just be too good at the sport as a player so I decided to be nice and give you amatures a chance."

"Y/n you sound like Kuroo now..."

It wasn't long before Taketora began bragging about his team's manager to Hinata. Hinata thought you looked too scary and competitive for anyone to even see your feminine looks but the nekoma boys can see it clear as day.

Yaku was the only boy who never got told off by you. In fact, you actually get along with him pretty well, you both have very engaging conversations and he's the only one who receives pointers from you in your calm voice.

You have confiscated Kenma's phone a few times because he would get distracted by playing games on it and the poor boy wouldn't even glare or fight you about it like he would with Kuroo because he knew better.

The first time the boys saw you genuinely smile at practice, a smile that didn't have malicious intent or sarcastic, they were fawning all over you. That was also the first and last time they saw you flustered before being chased around the practice hall by you and your fists.

They'd see that smile again whenever they win a practice match or a real match in a competition and to them it makes victory taste that much sweeter.

Think even Hinata would agree with Taketora that you looked cute with that smile.

The boys sometimes forget that you do get into actual fights outside of school and practice so it often comes as a shock when they see you with some injuries when you go back to practice.

But they wouldn't want any other girl as their manager. They are more than happy to have you!

not proofread :/

But I had fun writing this like I did with the other post so thank you for the request!!

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#karasuno #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsuro #daichi x you #asahi azumane #daichi sawamura #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo imagine #nekoma high #oikawa imagine #nekoma manager #nekoma x reader #karasuno x reader #karasuno headcanons #karasuno manager

765 notes · View notes

spooky-pomegranate · 1 year

Text

Testing His Will

Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Price desperately wants to be physical with you but after you’re injured he worries he’ll be too aggressive. His fear only intensifies when you kiss him for the first time.

————————————————————————

“Will you sleep with me?”

It had been some time since Price’s will had been tested like this. You had felt so warm when you straddled him. And bloody fucking hell, the way you had rocked your hips when he’d squeezed your beautiful soft body, he’d nearly snapped. The kiss had been so goddamn slow and passionate that it would have been so easy for Price to give in, to take you right then and there, to feed his appetite and satiate your own greedy cravings. But he had stopped. He’d told you to get some rest. He’d given you your own clothes and he’d drawn the heavy curtains. He’d pulled back the covers and he’d helped you to bed. He’d been so good.

But then you’d asked him that question…

“Will you sleep with me?”

…and Price felt like the gods were punishing him.

“Yes.”

It was a stupid answer. But how could he deny you? How could he say no when you had kissed him like that? He wasn’t sure he would get a minute of sleep laying next to you, but that didn’t matter. He could just stare at the ceiling and count each of your breaths. He’d be good and keep his hands to himself, because if he wasn’t, if his hands did touch your body, they would be demanding, impatient, and rough. Price couldn’t do that to you. No, he couldn’t be aggressive. Not when you were still harboring some major injuries. He didn’t want to hurt you. Not again. Never again. Right now you needed to be held like porcelain and he wasn’t capable of it. So yes tonight he would sleep next to you, but no he would not touch you.

It was 5:00 am when Price got out of bed. You had fallen asleep almost immediately and he guessed from your deep breathing you probably wouldn’t wake up any time soon. With another warm body under his sheets, Price had also managed to get a few hours of sleep. That was a feat these days. He often struggled with night terrors but last night…last night was different. He’d slept soundly with no dreams at all. He did however wake up with a throbbing headache.

Price quietly walked to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of painkillers he kept in the medicine cabinet. Washing them down with some water from the sink he caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look nearly as bad as he was expecting considering he’d been pistol-whipped, kicked down a flight of stairs, and head-butted a few hours ago. He had a small cut on his cheek and a bruise on his temple. It could be worse. He’d definitely survived worse. At least this time he didn’t fall out of a bloody helicopter. He was still sore, but it was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix.

The water was running over his face, trickling down through his beard and onto his chest when Price heard a knock. His eyes shot open wide. Your voice called out from behind the door.

“Price?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you in the shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come in the bathroom?”

Panic. He should say no. He should be good. He should tell you to go back to bed.

“Yes.”

Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. You pushed open the door and Price watched as you stepped into the bathroom. You were wearing a t-shirt and tight running shorts. Your hair was messy from sleep. Even through a foggy glass door and heavy steam, Price could feel his body react to the sight of yours. Bloody hell, what was he doing?

“I got worried when I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” You kept your eyes on the tile floor as you spoke. Your voice was sleepy.

“I’m sorry… I’m right here.”

“Umm, I was wondering… would you mind if I came in there with you?”

Price stood still as the water cascaded down his body. His dog tags stuck to his rapidly pounding chest. If he let you in you would see him… all of him. He was growing hard at the thought.

“I promise I won’t steal all your hot water.”

You laughed and it broke Price. Of course, you could come in.

“I wouldn’t care if you did. Come on.”

You tore away your clothes, throwing them on top of Price’s, and walked over to the foggy shower door. Price’s heart jumped to his throat. There would be no going back from this. You grabbed the metal handle and pushed open the door. He turned away from the showerhead and faced you. The hot water beat down against his back.

You smiled as your eyes met Price’s. He noticed they were large and fierce. Your pupils were so dilated they blacked out their normally striking color. Price raked his eyes down your body. Your curves were every bit as beautiful as he had imagined, but your ribs were marked by large black and blue marbling bruises. They were a reminder for Price that he had to be careful with you. You needed to be touched with tenderness.

But that would be a challenge with how you were looking at him. Vicious, hungry, and desperate. Price watched your face as you scanned his body, gazing over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, and finally down to his throbbing cock.

You moaned at the sight and he laughed.

“Let’s get you cleaned up huh?” Price needed to touch you now. He couldn’t wait a single moment longer. Carefully he grabbed your hips and switched positions so the hot water was running down your back. He reached for the shampoo bottle and squirted some into his hands. Then gently he moved his hands through your hair, working the liquid into a sudsy lather. You took a step forward and rested your forehead on his furry chest as he continued to rub and knead. You didn’t seem to mind that his hard cock was pinned against your belly. He felt himself twitch as a sickly sweet whine escaped your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Price asked.

“Yes, sooo good.” You sighed and lowered your shoulders, tension clearly falling off them. Then suddenly you took a hard step back and looked up at him. Had he scared you off?

“I didn’t come in here so you could take care of me again Price. I wanted to take care of you… please.”

Fucking hell. What had he done to deserve this? Price watched as you took the shampoo bottle from his hands and set it back on the shelf. You picked up some body wash and poured it into your hands.

“Can I?”

Price nodded and you touched his chest, rubbing your hands through his short dark hair there. You pressed your fingers deep into his tense muscles and whispered a string of honeyed praises as you massaged him.

“You’re so strong.” “Shit, look at your muscles.” “They’re so big.”

Somehow Price managed to stay quiet as you whispered all those things to him. It wasn’t until you said…

“You needed this didn’t you?”

…that Price let out a deep rasping groan.

“Fuck, yes.” He immediately growled.

His answer must have excited you because a red blush spread from your cheeks down to the top of your chest. You both stood still for a moment. Price watched as a cluster of soap bubbles slid from your neck down through the valley of your breasts. He’d never seen something so beautiful in his life. He had to taste you again.

Price grabbed your jaw and tilted your face upwards. You rushed to meet his open mouth, tongues colliding in an urgent fervor that had been missing from last night. You tasted so sweet and delicious. He tried to contain himself as you sucked on his tongue and whined. Fuck there you went, testing his will again.

He broke away and started to kiss down your jaw and neck. His tongue was licking a long stripe by your collarbone when you sighed and weakly spoke.

“Price, please let me make you feel good.”

Price picked his head up. You pressed your forehead against his and thread a hand into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He nodded and you slid your other hand down in between your bodies, moving it over Price’s broad chest, across his hard stomach, and then lower.

“Fuckkkkk.”

Price hissed as you wrapped your soft hand around the base of his cock. He grabbed your hips and buried his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his beard against your skin. He wanted to thrust into your hand and pound away until he came but he didn’t. He let you stay in control.

“You’re so big.” God, you sounded so sweet.

You were stroking Price at a tormentingly slow pace. Up and down you squeezed him like you were in no rush to ever leave the shower. He grunted into your neck before sucking and licking his thanks.

Price swore he must in heaven. Nothing could have prepared him for how good you were making him feel. But bloody hell did he want you to move faster. He thrust his hips up into your hand, hoping to find more satisfaction.

“Do you want me to go faster?” You whispered earnestly in his ear.

“Mhmmmm.” Price hummed in affirmation, his face still buried in your neck. You wasted no time giving him what he wanted. Your movements became frantic as you stroked him faster and tightened your grip. You let go of the back of his neck and added your second hand, leaving no inch of him untouched. Price took a hand off your hip and slammed it into the wall behind your head. He wasn’t going to last much longer like this.

“Mmmmm gonna come if you keep that up.” He grunted and raised his head from your neck. You kissed him. It was searing.

“It’s okay. Come for me Price.”

Price started to thrust his hips up into your hands, wildly chasing his own end without care. He was panting chest heaving as you focused your touch on his sensitive tip. He kissed you again and again, tongue swirling inside your mouth, teeth pulling the delicate and wet skin of your lips.

“Fuckkkk that feels so good.”

Price brought his head back down to your neck and buried it in your collarbone. He couldn’t hold on any longer.

He felt lightheaded as he came, painting your hands and stomach with his release. You continued to touch him through his bliss but you slowed your movements each time he shuttered. When you finally let go he was out of breath.

“Thank you.” Price huffed.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and you laughed. That was slowly becoming Price’s favorite sound. He grabbed a wash cloth and helped you clean up his mess. Gently swiping over your body, he felt the water start to grow colder. Goosebumps began to form over your skin.

“Let’s get out of here. You’re getting cold.”

Price stepped out of the shower first and held your hand as you followed. He grabbed a fluffy large towel from a cabinet next to the sink and dropped to one knee. Starting with your calves he slowly dried each inch of you. He took his time, drinking in every beautiful mark. Now that you had shown him your gorgeous body he wanted to remember every single detail of it. If you never let him touch you again he would always have this moment. He could come back here again in his mind.

But Price wasn’t satisfied with just toweling you off and memorizing your figure. How could he be when you had been so sweet and giving? He hoped you say yes to his next question. He wasn’t sure what he would do with himself if you said no.

“I know you said you didn’t want me to take care of you in the shower, but please can I beautiful? You were so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

You looked at him again with those eyes. Those vicious, hungry, and desperate eyes. Please, please say yes he thought.

“Yes.”

Before you could even finish saying the full word Price grabbed your hips and lifted you off the ground. He kicked open the door to the bedroom while you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. Price walked over to the bed and gently set you down on the edge. Careful, he had to remind himself. You needed to be handled delicately.

“Lay down in the middle of the bed and spread your legs open for me.”

————————————————————————

You crawled to the middle of the bed and opened your legs just as Price had commanded. From the moment you saw his entire body in the shower, you had been dripping from in between your thighs. But that wasn’t supposed to be about you. The shower had been about him.

Price was constantly putting your needs ahead of his own. He’d told you to run, leave him behind, and save yourself at your apartment. He’d let you take his room that first night he carried you here, and he’d put you to bed when he clearly wanted to do more with you. If you were going to repay him you would have to catch him off guard. So that’s what you did… and God was it worth it. The look he had in his eyes when you stepped into the shower was pure heaven. The way his nose crinkled when he got excited and the noises he made when he was coming, fuck you never wanted them to stop.

But then, just moments ago in the bathroom, he asked you that question and you’d said yes. Now you were here and Price was standing at the foot of his bed looking down at you like he wanted to devour you. You thought your heart might explode. Price's voice was deep when he spoke.

“You look perfect like this.”

You squirmed under his gaze. He approached the bed and started to kiss your lower legs. You loved the feeling of his beard brushing against your skin as he worked his way higher. He alternated between licking, sucking, and kissing in varying patterns, giving both of your legs equal attention all while using his strong arms to keep you spread open. When he reached the flesh of your upper thigh he looked at you and groaned.

“Can I taste you?”

Afraid that your own voice would give out you simply nodded. The fire in his eyes burned brighter.

“Good girl.”

Price wasted no time lifting your thighs over his shoulders and burying his face in between your legs. He lapped at your wetness and groaned when you arched down into his face. You couldn’t help but whine. You were so eager, so impatient to grind further into him. Desperately needing to feel more friction, you tried to move on your own. But Price wouldn’t have it. He reached up and pushed down on your stomach with one arm, pinning you onto the mattress. You were in his complete control. His strength was on full display. He raised his chin and gave you the most wicked smile.

“Fuckkk you taste so good.”

Your whines turned into whimpers.

“More. Please Price, more.”

Price caved to your pleas. He moved his tongue to your clit and started flicking slowly back and forth. His strong wet tongue on your bundle of nerves felt so good that you needed something to hold onto. Your hands reached down and grabbed fistfuls of Price’s short hair. He closed his mouth over your clit and sucked, making the most carnal noises. You loved his grunts and groans.

You yanked him hard in a weak attempt to get him to stop. You needed just a minute to catch your breath, but he kept his head glued in between your thighs. Spurred on by your harsh grip, Price started to move his tongue faster and faster. You realized then he was only going to stop once he had made you come. This would be the death of you. Your head was spiraling.

“Oh my God, that feels so good. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You were a babbling mess when Price finally broke away from your center and kissed your thigh. But he didn’t let you collect yourself. Instead, he slid a finger inside you, curling it upwards and finding that sweet gummy place.

“Is that the spot? Right here? Is this where you like it?”

Price was smiling when he asked those questions. Smug bastard. He must have known from the way you were whining and moaning, that you were putty in his hands. He had to know that you were drunk on his touch. Your head snapped back against the mattress as slid a second finger inside of you. You could feel the pressure building in your core. How did he always know what you needed?

“Do you want my mouth again? Would you like that?”

“Yes Price, please. Make me come. Please.”

You were begging. Anything he wanted to hear you would give him. Anything to have his mouth over you again. But Price wouldn’t make you plead any further. He brought his mouth down and sucked on your clit hard while continuing to pound away with his fingers. You let go of his hair and grabbed the sheets, yanking them to your chest. You were on the edge, any second now you would fall. You just needed a push. Price raised his head from between your thighs. His blue eyes stared up at you through his lashes.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

Price’s hoarse voice was all the push you needed. Your orgasm crashed over you rough and fast. You clenched around his fingers as he continued to fuck you with them. You let go of the sheets and reached down and grabbed his forearm with both hands, nails digging into his skin. Your body thrashed against the mattress. You could feel your pulse rapidly beating in your throat.

“There you go beautiful. Take what you need.”

You rocked your hips forward as Price lowered his chin and tasted you again. God how you loved the sight of him in-between your thighs. Every bristle of his beard against your skin made you twitch with overstimulation.

After he had thoroughly cleaned you with his tongue he climbed up on the bed and laid next to you, curling you against his chest. You tried to catch your breath as he rubbed small circles into your hip. The two of you laid together in content silence.

“I guess it’s my turn to thank you now huh?” Your voice was weak when you finally spoke. He laughed.

“Absolutely not. I think I might have enjoyed that more than you did.”

“There’s no way that’s possible.” It was your turn to laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time someone made you come like that. You laid your head back on Price’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. You felt safe for the first time in days.

————————————————————————

This is an excerpt from my much larger work on AO3. If you would like to read the whole story thus far here is the link. If you are just here for the *spicy bits* I have more fun excerpts called "Violence and Timing" and "Falling Apart" here on Tumblr.

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader

555 notes · View notes