#John Price angst

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 13

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

MDNI

Warnings: ALL THE SMUT

The next two weeks flew by. John had worked hard to respect Y/N’s wish to take things slow. They would go for walks daily around the farm, talking about their lives and getting to really know one another. They spend time with the family too. She got Charlie, Brooke and Emma to take Kyle and Johnny horseback riding which was an adventure because Johnny apparently was a natural whereas Kyle struggled. Emma ended up staying behind with Kyle because he barely left the yard. 

One night John even planned a candlelit dinner in the loft, just the two of them. Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. John was so attentive, caring, and soft. This was a side of him she’d never seen and surprised her. Her heart would flutter when he would call her pet names or place his hand on her back. 

What really made her heart burst was seeing him with the kids. He was so good with them she thought about what he would be like with his own child. They were all currently sledding down the big hill by the forest. John had ridden down with both twins multiple times and even had Meadow laughing for the first time all week. They loved him, and it made Y/N happier than she’d been in a long time. 

After a snowball fight instigated by Johnny everyone headed inside for some hot chocolate. Y/N decided to go down and take a shower, the cold outside biting into her skin. 

She stood in the walk in closet stripping her clothes off and getting ready to take a shower. Her muscles ached of course but it was her core that ached the most. The more time John and her spent together in this relaxed setting the more she fell in love with him. The more she fell in love with him though the more she wanted him. She sighed and started looking for something to change into when she got out of the shower. 

She thought she heard a soft knock on the door but when she didn’t hear anything else she assumed it was a noise from somewhere else in the house. She then heard the door open and John called her name. She quickly looked for something to throw on, settling for an oversized hockey jersey. 

“Hey sorry, I know you’re getting ready to get in the shower but Freya accidentally spilled her hot chocolate on me. Don’t worry I got her a new one but I have to change because I’m covered in chocolate and it’s sticky.” 

Y/N stepped out of the closet and John was standing with his back to her shirtless. The muscles in his back flexed as he searched through his bag on the bed looking for a new shirt. She almost moaned at the site. She leaned against the wall by the bathroom enjoying the view.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” He called over his shoulder. “Just give me two minutes and I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“Or… maybe not.” She said softly and he turned to look at her. 

All the air left his lungs when he saw her standing there in a jersey that barely covered her, her face flush and her eyes fluttering. 

“Oh sweetheart, that’s unfair.” 

“Maybe hold off a moment before putting a shirt back on.” She bit her bottom lip and his knees almost gave out. 

“Yeah,” He walked over and leaned against the wall across from her. “I can do that.” 

“Actually you know what, I think she got hot chocolate on your pants too.” 

“Is that right love?” 

“Mmm better take those off.” 

He reached down and popped open the button of his jeans before sliding his thumbs under the hem and slowly lowered his pants and discarding them, leaving him standing in only his boxer briefs. The outline of his hard cock prominent through the thin material. 

Y/N moaned at the sight of him and traced her finger up and down her thigh.

“You're playing a dangerous game here love.”

“Not a game.” She said as her fingers brushed the hem of the jersey. “You mentioned you were sticky.” 

John lost the ability to speak when her hand found its way under her jersey and she teased herself. Seeing him speechless made her smile. 

“You should take a shower if you’re sticky.” 

He nodded thoughtlessly as he watched her tease herself. She pushed herself off the wall and then grabbed the hem of the jersey pulling it over her head before turning around and heading into the bathroom. He stood there frozen until he heard the shower start and Y/N gently ask if he was coming. 

“What am I doing?” He scolded himself and quickly stripped out of his boxers and headed into the bathroom shutting the door behind him. 

The steam was filling the room and he made his way to the shower. The bathroom was large with a clawfoot tub on the left wall and a large shower on the right. He opened the door to the shower and stepped in. 

Y/N’s back was to him, letting the warm water pour down her skin. He took a step forward and ran his fingers gently down her spine. She softly moaned and leaned her head back. He closed the distance between them and let her rest her head on his shoulder as his hands went to the front of her body. He moved them up and he cupped her breasts, kneading them soliciting another moan from her. She reached back, grabbing his thighs and squeezing them.  

Seeing her exposed neck he lowered his lips to her skin, sucking and nibbling while his fingers danced south, a mixture of sensory overload and pleasure surged through her. The pressure inside her was already building. His fingers danced gently across her as if he was savoring the moment and she let out a whine. They both had been waiting for this moment for so long that she both was eager for it and wanted it to last. 

No longer being able to stand it she rolled her hips pressing herself into his fingers while also squeezing his thighs. A low chuckle shook his chest. 

“I hear you love.” 

His fingers pressed into her and her knees felt weak. He brought his arm around her to help her stand as his fingers slowly entered her, his thumb brushing against her swollen nub. 

“Oh god John, feels so good.” 

“I know, baby.” 

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, his thumb working on her clit and the edge of vision started to blur. She could feel her insides coiling up with that familiar warm sensation and she knew she was close. 

“So close.” 

“Cum for me baby. Cum all over my fingers. Be my good girl.” 

His words sent her over the edge and he held her close as her body arched and her body shook as her orgasm tore through her. When she was done he brought his fingers up to her lips and she eagerly opened them and began sucking on them. He pressed his cock into her back, grinding against her. 

“Turn around for me baby.” 

She turned to him and looked up at him with glassy eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue swiping across her lips before she parted them and he pushed it in, tasting her. He moaned as her hand found his throbbing cock and she manoeuvred their bodies so that he was now under the stream of water.

“So big.” She moaned into his mouth and he smiled. 

“All for you baby.” 

She slowly lowered her body down, her tongue dancing over his chest and stomach. He swallowed thickly and braced his hand on the shower wall beside him. When she was down on her knees she looked him over fully, licking her lips. 

“All for me.” 

Her hand gripped him and she lifted his cock and her tongue licked him from root to tip before she lapped up the precum that was seeping out of him. John’s head fell back as she opened her mouth, sliding the tip while circling it with her tongue. 

“Fuck” he moaned and she hummed in approval. 

Slowly she slid her mouth down his cock, while her hand worked it from the base. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take him all, he was already filling her mouth and stretching her lips, but with practice, one day. 

She began bobbing slowly up and down, pushing him as far as she could to the point of choking and then easing up and pulling back. Repeating this motion over and over again increasing the speed as she went. 

As his breath became quicker and his moans longer she reached up with her hand, cupping his balls, rolling the sensitive skin in her hands massaging them lightly. 

“Darlin I’m not going to last long. Wanted this for so long. Where do you want me too…” 

Y/N looked up at him and the sight of her covered in drool bobbing on his cock almost sent him over the edge. She winked at him and continued sucking him and he started to feel it coming. He looked down and put his hand on the back of her head as his balls tightened. 

“I’m coming.” Was all he got out and she pushed him further into her mouth as he filled it.

He felt his knees tremble as she continued to clean him up, now sensitive to her mouth. Eventually she stood up and slid past him to wash the drool off her chest. He leaned over and rested his head on the back of her head, his arms wrapping around her stomach. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered and she smiled

“I love you too John.” 

They held each other as the water washed over them until John pulled back and grabbed the shampoo bottle and began washing Y/N’s hair. His hands massaged her scalp and she moaned causing him to smile. When he was done rinsing her he did the same with the conditioner and then grabbed the soap. His finger ran over her entire body and he ended up coaxing another orgasm out of her with his fingers. 

She did the same for him, washing his hair and his body but instead of using her hands or mouth to pleasure him she suggested they go to the bed, which John enthusiastically agreed to. They quickly exited the shower and he followed her to the bed, admiring her ass as she walked. When they got to the bed she sat down and moved her body to the middle and beckoned John with her finger. 

“Jesus love, how’d I get so lucky?” 

He got on the bed and positioned himself over her, his arms caging her in. She reached up and wrapped her arm around his shoulders pulling him down to kiss him. Her mouth conveyed the urgency she was feeling and shifted his weight to one arm as his other hand explored her breasts again. 

“John, I need to feel you inside of me.”

He spread her legs and positioned himself in between them. His fingers moved down to her core finding her still wet. 

“Baby I want to taste you, but right now my need to be inside you is so strong I just can’t wait.” 

“Lots of time for that later.” She said, placing her hand on his cheek.

He moved himself to her entrance slowly pressing himself in. He didn’t want to hurt her so he kept his eyes on her to be sure she was ok. She shifted her hip slightly and opened herself wide allowing him to enter her a little faster than he meant too. 

“Shit are you ok?” 

“I’m fine John, keep going.” 

Slowly inch by inch he sunk into her until he was in completely and he rested his forehead on hers. 

“So tight baby, fit me so well.”

“Feels so good John.” 

He slowly began pulling back out and then again slowly back in. A small involuntary snap of his hips at the end made her moan and squeeze the flesh of his sides where she had rested her hands.

He looked down at her and she had a smile on her face with her eyes closed and he leaned down and kissed her while pulling out faster this time and then back in again just as fast. She moaned into his mouth and it was the most amazing sound he had ever heard. 

He began thrusting into her then losing himself in the sensation. He looked down at where their bodies connected and moaned. 

“S’ like you were made for my cock.” 

Her fingers dug into his sides as he brought one hand up and started massaging her breast. Her moans encouraged him further and he sat back and reached his down rubbing his thumb over her clit, causing her back to arch off the bed. 

“Oh god John, feels so good.”   

His thrusts and thumb worked in tandem and he could feel her clamping down on his cock as her moans came out faster and louder. He could feel his own orgasm coming and increased his pace. Suddenly she cried out and clamped down on him calling out his name. He fucked her through her orgasm holding on until she finished before his thrusts became erratic and he let go, shooting his seed inside her. He sat buried inside her while he came down from cumming and then laid down beside her on the bed. 

“Holy fucking shit that was amazing.” She whispered as she panted. 

“I have no words. That was incredible. Can’t believe we waited this long to do this.” 

“Yeah we could’ve been doing this for like a year.” Y/N laughed 

“Well I guess we have a year to make up for.” John said and he crawled on top of her again.

[v1x3n]

SHOWER TIME ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it? 

Nothing good could ever happen to you. 

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that. 

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling. 

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole. 

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you. 

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in? 

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you. 

You dont reply. 

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk. 

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not  being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it? 

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't” 

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets. 

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in  defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone. 

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you. 

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

[criminalamnesia]

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[mochroialainn]

I am also now plagued by angsty thoughts... being TF141s girl and they love hearing you sing and play piano, often spending nights by the fire with you playing in the background and just watching you with awe and love on their faces. It's one of their favourite things to do and the you die, be it a freak accident or medical emergency or if you were also a soldier that died in the line of duty and they're heartbroken. They're positivrly distaught, they'll never see your face again, never see your smile or hear your laugh or the way you bite back them always able to give as much as you take, but they'll also never hear you sing again and the silence in the shared home without your voice or the piano playing is defeaning. Until the first Christmas they spend without you, the housr isn't even decorated and the fire is barren, beer and whiskey bottles lining the kitchen instead if your fresh made cookies, if there was one word to descripe the house it would be dispair. And then a package is a delivered a few days before Christmas and inside is a letter, you're handwriting beautiful and concise detailing all the ways you love them and as John reads it to the others, theres tears in everyone's eyes that turn into fullblown sobs when he pulls out a CD thats labelled 'with all my love- YN'. Ots a collection of all their favourite songs with you playing piano and singing and for the first time in a long time, they feel like they have a part of you back.

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

[dumbbitchgalore]

Till Death Do Us Part

"This is what you wanted isn't it?!" John shouts a pistol pointed towards you with shaky hands, his finger doubtfully resting restlessly on this trigger.

Hands in the air, surrendering to him your brains tell you to negotiate, plead like you do in bed surrounded by secrecy and passion. You pant, trying to catch your breath you realise that you chose the wrong person to fool. 

“Honey, wait-”

John growls, irritation building up in him. Those sleepless nights of ecstasy return to him, nights that were filled with moans and groans, skin slapping skin and the scent of sex wafting in the air. Oh, how he was a damn fool for even opening his heart only to have it ripped in half, stomped on and thrown in the gutter beyond salvaging. 

“Shut the fuck up! You think you deserve to speak? To explain yourself? Huh?! Fuck you!” 

John was incorrigible, the betrayal and false promises consuming his mind rendering catatonic from rational thought. Gritting his teeth, he stares at you. Eyes narrowed and glossy, his eye lashes wet from unshed tears. 

“John-” 

“Fuck you.” He spits his words out venomously. 

The burden of loving you controls his mind, body and soul. The once decorated war hero seemingly unable to grasp onto sensibility lowers his pistol placing it back into its holster. His head falls as he stares at the ground behind his feet, the soles glued to the ground. John blocks your sight from observing his heartbroken expression. 

“Run.” John utters defeatedly, unable to make sense of the situation, he remains ignorant. 

Without a second thought you flee, never to turn back and run into his arms. And as God has permitted; to never find a lover like John Price in any of your lives to come.  

The footsteps of his team echo behind him. The clamouring of soldiers approaches closer and closer coming to a halt when their Captain is in their view.

“Where is she?” Ghost’s voice booms through the dilapidated building. 

John sighs, turning around to face his soldiers as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Dunno. She was gone by the time I got here.”

[sourvers]

THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU (MY FATHERS LOVE)

summary: duty or family? he always did chose duty behind bittersweet goodbyes and missed birthday parties. you’ve always tried to understand. but when your husband comes home one day, your 15 year old kid decides enough is enough.

or… your child yells at their father through a tear-stained face

contents & warnings: simon & john x mom reader (separate), angst, reader's child is named, absentee father, emotional manipulation?

cod main masterlist . ao3 profile

⤷ i genuinely don't know what came over me. while i absolutely love the idea of tf141 being amazing fathers... a part of me always thinks the opposite.

JOHN PRICE

He knows he's late. Beyond late.

Night had already settled across London's horizon. The sky blanketed with an array of stars. Each of them a touch brighter than the next; glimmering down on him, smiling even.

John's momvents are gradual, unwinding. Park the car. Take the key. Unbuckle the seatbelt. Open the door. It was timed, familer, known like the spurs of energy from his only, beloved daughter and the tender warmth from his wife's arms. You exuded it: the candid, honeyed sweetness that Price indulged in, gulp after gulp.

"Dad?"

John recalled when he first held his daughter in his gritty, calloused palms. Under the hospital's white, glaring lights and your ever asture gaze, John felt the bones in his body quiver, his eyes a deep sea of glisenting blue. The world mellowed, it was only him and her: a finite stone hurtling against a blodied reality. She was so tiny. Wrapped in nothing but a blanket, her nose twitching, her body tenderly warm, malleable, innocent.

"Hey honey, how's school?"

"I didn't go to school today."

"Oh? Why?"

"Mom's sick again."

John slipped the ring on your finger for two reasons. First, he adored you. You were like stardust against his fingers, a kind of breeze he'd beg to dance with, a woman he'd kneel before when he came home, bruised and battered like a wooden doll. Second, you are shrewed, clever, and undeniably effacious. To a fault truly. John sunk his teeth deep and swallowed every drop of mellowed forgiveness until it ran dry. Untill John stopped reasoing because every father should drop their kid off for the first day of kindergarten, because he should've been their clasping your hand when you fainted for the first time, because little Jen should've had her father come with her to 'bring your dad to school' day.

"Is she in her room?"

"Why would you care?"

John stops, the warm lamp light of the living room constraints him, the bitterness in his daughter's voice echos against the walls. Against him.

"Jenzelle. Drop the attitude-"

"Or what? Or what dad?" Your going pack your bag up and leave?"

"Jen," John sighs, "You know I can't control-"

"Of course I know!" Jen heaves, throwing her hands in the air, taking another step back, "You've always told us that. Told mom that. You told me that."

Jen's face scrunches up, her lips pressed into a firm line, just like her mother-

"Don't look at me like that dad, don't."

John takes a gentle step forward, stretching his hand to her shoulder, "Honey, please. Sit, we'll talk. I'll call your mom-"

Jen swats his hand away, stepping backwards, "That's what I've been trying to do for the past fifteen years of my life."

Her words are blunt, sharp, faster than any bullet John has-

"Do you love me dad?"

John melts, his hand quivers. Jen swallows and her eyes grow red, glossy, hot. Yet, her voice is hushed, mumbled under her breath like a mere whisper. A prayer. A quit plead hidden behind her crescent smile and brilliant, bright eyes.

John swallows, "I love you and your mom more than anything in this world."

Jen squints, as if gazing at a puzzle. "Then where were you dad? I know it's stupid but-" Jen huffs, hastily wiping the tears from her face, gazing to the ground before glaring straight into John's eyes, "You said you'd keep me safe. That I'd never be alone."

He did say that, whispered it into her ears when she scraped her legs. When he tucked her into bed and when the fireworks shook the house. He engraved it in his heart when he held her for the first time. And after every ‘I love you’.

“Then why at the hospital, did I spent every night alone since fourth grade? Alone dad. Alone because you couldn’t answer. I took care of mom alone and you-”

She points her finger at him, John freezes.

“You love your job more than me, don’t you?

No no no baby, that’s not true.

“Jen-”

I love you baby. You, your mom. I love how you take after her. Whatever you said is not true. It’s not true. God, it’s not true.

“Honey I-”

I’ll retire, quit, drop the job whatever. But please don’t say that honey. Please.

“Don’t try dad. Don’t try.”

The stars are out; glimmering, dancing in the night sky. The paper he’s writing on is strangely wet.

SIMON RILEY

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

"Why dad? Why?!"

It really doesn't.

Simon learned to be silent. To stitch his mouth close and chop his tongue off from the beginning of childhood leading into his career.

Neverthless, he believed his indifference- the apathetic glaze of his eyes- would never reach your eyes or his son.

"I've tried everything to make you stay- I brought home medals, took honours classes-"

"I know that."

Sean grimaces, his eyes painfully red. "Of course, you knew," he seethes, "You always seem to know everything!"

Simon was taught not to flinch or cower, his back straight and stiff. Accompanied by flat indifference.

Simon still smells the savoury aroma of dinner: its scent lingering in the living room. He notes how the recorded player is not fully off and how there is only one hanging photo of all three of you: when Sean was born, Simon gingerly cradling him in his burly arms.

He's a ghost.

Simon recalls how twilight casted its shadows over your home fifteen years ago. How violently his legs shook; caving under his own weight when he fell to his knees before you, grasping onto your shins and knees for dear life, begging, asking.

"What if I'm not a good father?"

"You're going to be a wonderful father, Simon, don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I don't want to hurt... I don't want to be-"

"You won't."

"You never cared about us," lashed Sean, "You were never there, and don't give me the stupid 'military' excuse."

For the first time since he arrived home, Simon spoke ever so calmly, "It is true."

"I saw the papers. I heard what you and mom were talking about over the phone."

Simon's eyes widen slightly.

"She asked you to retire dad," Sean's lips quiver, "She never asks of anything too big. You know this."

Simon did know that: how you desperately pleaded with him. At that moment, he imagined your clenched fist, the hot tears streaming down your cheeks and the grit in your eyes. The same one he spent nights picturing over and over again.

"Why dad? Why were you never just there?"

Because I'm a coward. Because I'm afraid.

"You know the answer."

Sean's bloodshot eyes stare daggers into Simon's. Acute and tenacious while he backs away, "Keep telling yourself that."

'Go call him', screamed Simon's mind, battering against his head, 'Do something, anything. Please.'

Simon stood there frozen.

A self-made ghost in his own home.

For what purpose?

cod masterlist .

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Don't Do That To Me - 1

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price x Techie!Reader

SUMMARY: What happens when your recklessness almost costs you your life? Will John regret putting an end to your "hush-hush" relationship? Will he even care?

WARNINGS: A pinch of angst, inaccuracies of military operations, inaccuracies of hacking, and John being a silent simp.

WORD COUNT: 2,252 (Yeah, it's a lot for me 😅)

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

You take off your vest and put it on the 7-year-old boy who trembles in fear. Your hand itching to take a hold of the gun that’s pocketed in your thigh holster, you turn to look at Soap and Gaz as they do the rest of the sweep of the warehouse.

You look back at the boy and place a hand on his shoulder, “You are ok, we will get you out.” He nods shakily at your statement, and his mother wraps her arms around him tighter as they huddle near the window.

You get up from your crouch position and walk over to Gaz, who has just entered the room. “Found it?” you ask hopefully to which Gaz nods. “You’re lucky it’s a portable one,” he replies and hands you the Toughbook. Your eyes widen as you take it immediately and place it on the nearby desk and you flip it open and start typing away.

Your fingers work mindlessly as you concentrate hard.

You hear Soap talk to Gaz regarding something about communications being jammed, you don’t remember when Soap walked in.

“Guys, wait, this Toughbook controls some satellite connections within, like, a three-mile radius,” you stop and turn and look at the two sergeants.

Soap walks forward and leans over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen, “Looks like gibberish to me, bonnie.” You huff slightly and turn back to the toughbook, “I can try to reconnect the comms back to Captain, I just need-,”

“Go ahead,” Gaz says while looking at the hostages. You hear him walking to stand on the other side of you, “why did you give up your vest.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

A statement to you stupidity.

You, yourself, wouldn’t call it ‘stupidity’ per se.

You would call it your everlasting kindness.

Even though that boy’s father may have info on some plans that maybe the solid scheme to breaking out Makarov, the boy is still a child. A child shouldn’t be harmed for what his father has committed.

You tell your whole pity story to Gaz, and he just rolls his eyes and mutters something like “reason why you’re a techie and not a soldier”.

You roll your own eyes and elbow his thigh.

You type for a while longer until you’re so sure that your work was right and click “Enter”.

***

John hears the static come through and he sits straighter in his chair, so does Ghost. “Team?” he says into the mic in front of him.

“Hear you loud and clear, Captain.” Your voice pulls through and he almost sighs in relief.

Almost

“Copy, Sergeant.” He sinks back into his chair and listens as Soap gives in the summary of what has happened and the hostages, they have in their keeps.

John and Simon are stationed at base, by Laswell’s orders, to stay put and help the team through comms. So, they both, along with Laswell and other military grade personnel, sit in the meeting room looking at the various screens hooked on the wall.

John’s focus was primarily on his own Toughbook as he sees the intel you’re sending over from your side.

For him it feels like yesterday.

Yesterday, when he held you in his arms.

Yesterday, when he kissed you senseless.

Yesterday, when you said you loved him.

Yesterday, when he fucked you good and held you while your slept in each other’s arms.

Yesterday, when you both argued about the fact your relationship was a secret.

Yesterday, when you stopped talking to him.

He hated himself for trying to put an end to what you both had. He tried to wish you luck before the OP but Soap told him that you didn’t want to talk to Price, something about “getting her head straight and in focus.”

Now, you’re on the field, your fingers smacking on some keyboard of some Toughbook and send him the intel on whatever you can get your hands on.

His eyes caught something on one of the screens.

One of the techie’s has somehow managed to get a street camera that’s angled to the window of the warehouse you, Soap and Gaz are currently in.

“Sergeant’s, we got eyes on the hostage, through a window. Over,” Laswell’s says into the table mic.

A second later Soap’s face pops on the screen, and John’s brow’s twitch.

You’re in there, somewhere.

He straightens his face again; he can’t let the board know that he was (ex-)fucking the most talented Technical Sergeant he’s ever had to work with.

Soap and Laswell converse over the comms, but John’s eyes are focused on the screen as he see’s Soap step away from the window.

Then he sees it…The red dot

***

You finalise you’re typing and see the loading bar as it slowly increases per second.

“Laswell, the data is slowly being transferred over to your database, over.” You press on to the comms as you convey your message to your Chief Officer.

You turn around to see the child and his mother again.

And that when you spot it…The red dot.

“Shit, kill the lights,” you whisper-yell to Gaz. Gaz furrows his eyebrows at your words and the way you crouch. You nod at the mother, at the one, then two, then three red dots appear on her body.

Snipers

You hear Gaz and Soap swear and get their guns ready, and one of them shuts the lights off.

“Laswell, we got a situation here.” You hear Soap’s static words through the earpiece.

Gaz tells you and Soap to stay put as he exits the room. You hear Laswell and John swear. Firstly, your heart stutters at John’s voice (but you quickly push that feeling aside). Secondly, you turn to see the son witness what’s on his mother’s body and soon screams.

“Hey, buddy. Eyes on me,” you cringe first at his shrill tone, then you whisper and calmly wave him over. He shook his head, but you’re assuming his mother knew what was happening and slowly convinced him to come towards you.

When he reaches you, you tighten your vest on him and give him a reassuring look.

Soon there’s some static and a new voice is heard, a distorted voice with a bit of an Arabic accent.

“Hand us the boy.”

You look at Soap, and he looks at you.

“Hand us the boy, and no one gets hurt.”

You go to click on your comms, and Soap stops you as he shakes his head.

“Let me,” you whisper back, Soap sighs and let’s go of your wrist shaking his head because he knows that he can’t stop you.

You nod and click and hold onto your comms button, “You’d willingly hurt your wife?” You look back at the woman, she clutches onto her hijab as she silently mutters her prayers.

“No questions, just hand us the boy. We won’t kill you if you do,” the voice replies.

***

John clenches his jaw as he hears the voice threaten you.

He hates that you are in this situation, he hates the fact he can’t be there to actually see what or how you are doing.

***

“Look, to whoever this is, there’s no way we are returning the boy. And there is no way you are killing his mother,” you say sternly into the comms.

Soap paces with his grip on his rifle tight as ever, he listens as you talk into the comms and make sure the voice on the other side is aware that you are not giving up.

You rub at your forehead as you sit on the floor and share a look of sympathy with the woman whose life is on the line.

***

Thirty-Five minutes.

That’s how long it has been since the start of their incident.

“What’s the plan, Cap,” Ghost’s rough voice breaks John out of reverie.

He turns slightly to face the man in the skull mask, “can’t really say without being there. If only-.”

Laswell cuts him off.

“No John, I was never gonna let you go on the operation. I knew the beef you have with the kid’s father. You would let you anger blind you,” she says in her boss voice.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she raises her hand to silence him. “Maybe not by lot, but at least by a little bit John.”

He keeps quiet at that.

Because he knows that its true.

He also knowns that if something to you, he will never forgive himself, and hunt down the person behind the distorted voice.

He grumbles as he crosses his arms as he eyes the screen of the live camera footage.

***

“What are we going to do,” Soap says as he stays vigilant. You are not physically vigilant you’re stuck in the middle as you rub your temples, your mind being the extremely vigilant one.

“We have to make a distraction, also where the hell is Gaz-?” Your voice gets cut off but the distorted voice again.

“Time’s up, shot’s being taken,” the static breaks through your earpiece and your heart drops.

Soap looks at you and you look at Soap with your eyes widening.

“No!” you yell and run to the window and push the woman aside and take her place instead, the red dots now covering your form.

***

The voice cuts through the speakers and the words make John become alert.

The meaning behind them, makes everyone in the board room sit straighter and murmurs go around the room.

Then his heart drops.

He sees you push the woman away and stand in front of the window yourself.

The first time he sees you after a long time, is when your life is at risk.

He stands up abruptly, and while he moves to the screen, his throat closing as he sees the red dots being aimed at your head.

“Laswell, act now,” he turns and dips his head as his voice drops an octave.

Laswell sees the seriousness in his face and begins to throw out orders, and people start running around.

John, however, stays put.

He watches your face, the face he’d caresses every night when you spend the nights in one another’s bed.

“Don’t do that, princess,” he mutters to himself as he feels his headache at the pressure in him.

***

You hand slightly trembles as you make eye contact with the street camera Laswell was talking about.

You breathe out shakily.

“The hell you’re doin’, Lass,” Soap whisper yells at you.

You ignore him and press on the comms, “you have me now.”

The distorted voice fills the caves of your mind as it chuckles, “even better.”

The sound of the gunshot rents the air

***

“No,” John mutters as his breath gets caught in his chest and walks closer to the screen as he hears the gunshot too.

He’s breathing becomes laboured.

A few seconds later, there’s static through the comms.

“Hostile eliminated, I repeat, Hostile eliminated,” Gaz voice pours in through the speakers.

Never in his life, has John let out the biggest sigh of relief.

***

You hear Gaz’s word through the plastic in your ear and start laughing, you laugh at the thought of losing your life a second ago.

“Gaz, you fucker, I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you,” you let your voice take over the comms.

***

It’s been half a day since Gaz took down the person behind the distorted voice.

Turns out the voice belongs to the best friend of the main man you wanted info on, but thanks to Gaz, you don’t have to worry about much in the moment.

The helicopter touches down so cleanly it takes you out of your train of thought.

Soap pats you knee and gives a friendly smile before hopping out, and you do the same.

The duffle bag digs into your shoulder as you tap away at your phone, recollecting every single aspect of the mission. It’s your thing, to nitpick a mission after you’re done with it.

You finally look up and make eye contact with a specific pair of cold blue eyes.

You stutter in your step as you watch him take off the familiar boonie at the sight of you. You nod at him in politeness (as much politeness could be covered in a sergeant and captain relationship) before turning and walking away.

***

You body just sinks into the sofa, and you sigh.

“Yup, definitely needed this,” you adjust the strap of your tank top and tug at the hem of your shorts to prevent the incoming wedgie.

You grab your bucket of ice cream and spoon off from your coffee table and resume the show you mindless put on.

But before you could press play, there’s a knock on your apartment door.

You groan at feeling off your relaxation being taken away at the last moment.

You set your things on the table again and get up to walk to your front door.

At this point you want to tell the person to ‘piss off’, and that is the plan when you open the door.

But when you open door, there are no words coming from you.

The 6 foot something man stands with his head dipped and his eyes solemn on you, the bouquet of your favourite tulips in his hands don’t even hold your attention.

It was his eyes.

The eyes that belonged to John Price.

🎀🎀🎀

Hey Lovelies!

Here we are babygirls, the first fic for my delicious and yummy man, John Price.

Legit was inspired by that one scene in Scandal, legit Tom Goldwyn is so hot like a DILF 😌.

Also, don't mind the diabolical amount of mistakes, this is a result of my doom-scrolling and a bit of late-night urge for productivity.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[spurbleu]

thinking of divorcé price,

bitter. but in the way an apple rots. it’s void of a luster that causes lingering. it’s festers in barren seeds and decay on his tongue. it’s dull, taxing, burrows in his tendency to nurse a cigar on chapped lips. eats at him, from the inside, puffy mold blooming up, up, until the bark of his voice isn’t forced.

no one knew much about you, and he’s sure that’s what broke your heart. known by none, and still second to it. he sees that now, although most nights he ate with you he neglected to notice how you always made more than two people called for.

the guilt that follows the drag of tobacco disturbs him, enough that he puts it out.

you made him the ashtray. he stills.

you took up pottery while he was away on a particularly long deployment. it wasn’t early in your relationship but things still felt fresh, the blush of your nose, the roundness of his smile. warmth.

the memory is tattered at the edges (surely fondness, although that idea makes him ill, now)- the pressure of your kiss, the bounce of your knee as he unwrapped months worth of class work, your eager grin as he got to the last item,

“…encouraging my vices, are we darlin?”

the sound of your laughter.

“we both know you’ll never quit, im just making sure you don’t make a mess.”

but he did, didn’t he?

made a mess. of you, of himself, the house and the thing you had that was ugly and round and beautiful and raw. he brought it between his teeth, greed smoldering volado, and put it out. laid it to rest with the ashes of a kinder time and a wedding photo.

killed it before it got old enough to hurt him.

[soleilapproves]

I bet if you asked Price about his love language he’d say English

[call-sign-bambi]

🤍𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬🤍

info: john price x female reader | inspired by 🎧daddy issues / the neighborhood🎧

category: angst, fluff

warnings: negative self talk, dd/lg themes, petnames (sweetheart & doll), lmk if i missed any.

a/n: excited to finally post something of substance on here, i have a million ideas i'm gonna try to write over holiday break.

You let your head fall to the steering wheel, huge, ugly sobs wracking your body. Your chest coiled in pain, constricting around the giant, empty hole of nothing, where something should be. Where you needed something to be. Or someone. 

You felt disgusting as you blew your nose once more, adding the rough napkin to a pile of its snot-covered brethren littering the passenger floorboard. You’d been trying not to cry for an hour, all to no avail. 

Rolling down the window, gasping for fresh air, something, anything…

The sky, dark and cold, offered no comfort, the moon and stars, no light, and the breeze gave only a bitter chill. You needed to not be alone tonight. You couldn’t be alone tonight. Dear god, I’m so tired of being alone…

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three ti-

“Evenin’.”

“John-” you choked out, tears streaming at the sound of his voice. “John, it hurts.”

“Darlin’, what-”

“Can I come see you?” A pause. “Please.”

“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave a light on for ya’.”

You threw the car into park, yanked your keys out, and slammed the door. You weren’t gonna make it. He lived on the ground floor, no stairs, that was good. Your head felt like it would float away if it weren’t for the pounding ache. You slumped against his door and knocked as loudly as you could.

A moment passed, and you wondered if the light had already been on for someone else. You ruin everything.

Footsteps. Bolt sliding out of place. Move. You gathered your weight and stood, lip trembling, in front of John Price. 

He wore a simple tee, worn with age, and faded track pants. Nothing fancy. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He made a soft vocalization and beckoned you inside. You stepped in quickly, skirting past him, afraid to get him contaminated. He closed the door behind you, locking it with surety, and turned to you with a tilt of his head. “What happened, doll?”

That did it. You crashed into his chest, crying nigh uncontrollably, hands gripping his shirt, hair a mess. 

John let out a small uff and it took him a moment before his arms very gently crossed behind your back. You didn’t care. 

“It fucking hurts, and I hate it, I hate this shit, I just want it to go the fuck AWAY!” you wept into him, tugging at the fabric he wore, hoping the clench of your palm would take away the clench of your heart. 

He sighed. In an instant, his arms had slipped down and around, scooping you off the floor and letting you curl into his torso as he walked to his room. 

“No, John, no, I’ll fuck up the bed, I can’t stop cr-”

“Hush,” he grumbled. His voice sounded thick but you didn’t have the capacity to wonder why. “Y’can’t stand right now. I’ll worry about the bed.”

He nudged the door open with his foot and you did your best to bury your entire head into his shoulder. Something, anything to take it away, to go to sleep, and feel nothing for a while…

John set you down and the mattress cradled your body. His bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like John. He lifted you up by the back and slid a few pillows underneath you, handing you a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Easy, now.” John stepped to the door, but you audibly cried. 

“Please don’t…please don’t leave.”

His eyes rested on you for a long beat, softening by the second. He stepped back to the bed and cupped your tear-damp face in his hand. “Okay,” John said, tucking your head into his stomach. “I won’t leave.” 

Those words set you off again, and your body shook from the weight of the heaviness on your shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this, John, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I know,” he murmured as he began to stroke the back of your head, “I know.” Still keeping you tucked into him, John moved over your body and sat next to you, his back against the headboard. “Come here, doll.”

Sniffling, you scooted closer to him and pressed your head into his chest. His arms wrapped you once more, and he touched his rough lips gently to your skin. “I’m here. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Your head pounded again, in cadence with your heart, your breathing, your chest, your pain, your everything, and it was all too much-

“Please make it stop, I can’t do it anymore, John, please, please!” you begged, nails carving moons into your palms. 

“Gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Gotta breathe.” John took your wrists in his hands and lifted them above your head, brows creasing at the way your torso still tried to cave on itself, like the implosion of a star. “In…all the way…atta girl, out…easy, now…in…out…there y’go, in…out….” You gradually came down from the high, hiccuping less and seeing more clearly. John sighed again. “Come on, you.”

“Where?” you said, voice cracking. 

“Shower. Warm water’ll do y’good.”

You nodded numbly and held onto his index finger as he stepped around the bed to the bathroom, afraid that he would vanish into the dark. He clicked the lightswitch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the cool tile room. “Up y’get,” he grumbled, taking you by the waist and planting you straight onto the counter. John leaned into the shower and turned the water on, letting it run over his hands. You let your foot dangle on his leg. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Ever. 

“John?” 

He stood, flicking the water from his fingertips, and motioned for you to lift your arms up. He began to peel your shirt off your body with heartbreaking gentleness. 

“Yes, doll.”

“I’m sorry,” you said through tee-shirt cotton, pulling your arms out of the entanglement.

“Don’t be.” John lifted you from the counter and crouched, unbuttoning your jeans. 

“I am.” You stepped out of the awful denim as he pulled it down your legs. “I feel disgusting and I made a fucking mess of you.”

He stood once more, stepping around you, pulling the fastens of your bra apart. “‘Boutta clean it off.” He moved to face you once more, pulling the straps down your shoulders and away from your skin. John’s eyes found the angry red line underneath your breasts from the combined too-small band and heaving sobs. He thumbed them softly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible over the shhhhh of the water. 

John knelt again, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Gotta get these off.”

You obliged, stepping out so he could hook his fingers around the elastic of your panties and take those off you as well. 

You stood in the pile of your clothing and reached out, tugging at his own. “Can I?”

John nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face as you worked his body out of his shirt and track pants, hovering over his boxers before he stroked the shell of your ear. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick again. “Won’t hurt ya’.” You mimicked him, crouching to the floor and tugging the waistband down to reveal his naked body. He was soft, not an ounce of arousal present. Something in your stomach twisted, and tears prickled at the edge of your eyes again. You moved the boxers over his foot and put it on the growing pile of clothes. 

John’s knuckle traced your cheek. “Come on, doll. Into the water with ya’.”

You stood and shivered when his hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you slowly into the warm water haven. Stepping over the rim of the tub and into the shower stream, you let the water engulf you, flowing over hair and neck and face and chest. 

John stepped in after you. He didn’t move for a moment, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “What?”

“‘M sorry you’re in s’much pain.”

“...thanks.”

“Let me make it better.” You stiffened. His eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “No, not like that. Easy. Just….” John picked up a dark bottle of shampoo. “Just let me help.”

“Okay,” you whispered, turning to face the water, trying desperately to keep from crying, if only to stave off another headache. 

John’s fingers laced through your hair then, working down to your scalp, through your roots all the way back to your ends. “I know it’s not what you normally use…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

John put his palms on your shoulders and turned you gently, gathering you into his still-dry chest and rinsing the soap from your hair. “Not a problem, doll.” 

As the shampoo ran down your back, you lifted your arms ever so tentatively, and put them around his neck. John went still for a moment, but only just a moment, and soon his fingers were back to scrubbing your head. 

You opened your mouth to the smell of his shampoo on your hair and the bare skin of his chest in front of you. His heart, thumping steadily, beat right below your cheek, and you instinctively pressed into him. 

John’s hands slowed and he began stroking your back, gathering any hair fallout, smoothing over your skin, and breathing in your scent the same as you inhaled his. “I got ya’. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

The tears came again, unbidden, but not fighting their way out as they had earlier - now they simply flowed. As you cried, John turned you back around, applying conditioner, body wash, scrubbing your body for you, tapping gently when he needed you to lift an arm or move a leg. He never stopped touching you, never lost contact with your skin. And he didn’t take advantage.

When John tapped your thigh, you wondered vaguely if he would attempt to rile you up, making the excuse of “just cleaning”. But he didn’t. A soft wash cloth lay between his fingers and your folds, and he worked the soap over your mound just the same as he had the rest of you. He lathered your breasts gently, without an ounce of boyishness, simply soaping and rinsing. John’s own body got wet in the process of cleaning you, but you found yourself too exhausted to care. 

As the last of the conditioner was washed out of your hair, John let the water run over your back, holding you between the heat of his body and that of the shower. 

“Thank you, John.”

He nodded, muscles squeezing almost imperceptibly tighter around you. “Let me know when you want to get out,” he murmured.

“Okay.”

Minutes passed and you simply stood in his arms, letting every emotion that once filled your ribcage to the point of breaking flow down the drain with the water. And John stood with you, stroking your hair when the sniffles and hiccups returned, pulling you to him when they subsided. 

You spoke up, quietly telling him you were ready to get out. He shut off the water, reaching out to grab a towel for you and helping you step out of the slick tub.

“Atta girl, doll. Slow. Good.”

John wrapped you in the plush cotton, using another towel to dry off your legs, crouched before you once again. You managed to get to your arms, but it wasn’t long before he made his way up your body and met you there, his eyes soft as he took over. “I got ya’, darlin’. I got ya’.” You looked up at him with still-teary eyes as words failed you. The ghost of a smile passed over John’s features. “I know. You want a shirt?” You looked at your own tee, covered in snot, and nodded profusely. John took your hand and led you back into his darkened room. Switching a lamp on, he opened a dresser drawer and produced an almost-identical faded, age-worn tee, indiscernible from the one on the bathroom floor. “Here you go, doll.” John turned to see you right on his heels, feeling small in the unfamiliar territory. He really did crack a smile then. “Come on. Arms up.” You obeyed, your chin sinking to your chest. His eyes never strayed from their task, even as the towel covering your body fell to the ground and fluffled around your ankles. “I got shorts or pants,” he said, “You got a preference?”

Your skin prickled in the post-shower chill. “Pants, please.”

He nodded and did the same as before, dressing you with quiet comfortability, slipping soft material up over your calves and thighs. Without asking, John also produced a pair of black, thick socks, pulling them onto your feet with ease. 

“Do…do you want me to…?” You gestured to his bare skin. “I…can. If you want.”

He met your gaze, gentle eyes making you feel a bit less hollow. “Just stay next to me.”

“Okay.” I can do that. You settled onto the bed’s edge, feet not quite touching the floor, and watched him pull a shirt over his huge back and another pair of pants over his massive legs. “John?”

“Yes, doll,” he replied as he shook the water from his hair into a towel. 

“Can we…can I, I mean, you don’t have to, can I, um…take a nap?” When he didn’t answer immediately, you tripped over yourself to explain. “Just-just for a bit, I’ll drive home tonight, I won’t stay, I just thought maybe-”

“Sweetheart.”

You sat stock still. John’s hand came up to your shoulder. “Breathe, kid. ‘M not gonna kick y’out. Stay as long as y’need.”

You stuffed your hands in your lap. “Thanks.”

He tilted his chin to the headboard. “Get under the covers, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up, and you were snug as a bug in a rug before you processed the full extent of his words. He’ll be here in…does he think we’re…what the fuck- 

As the confusion set in, John returned, leaning on the doorframe, phone in hand. “Y’like pizza?”

You blinked. “Yes.”

He padded toward the bed, clambering onto the mattress - the added weight made your body fall towards him as an uff escaped your lips. You smiled, the first one tonight, and curled under his arm. 

“Y’wanna order it?” John asked, showing you the screen. It’s cracked, but you can still easily make out the Domino’s online ordering menu. 

“Yessss.” You kicked your feet out in his soft sheets. Making your selections, you handed it back to him and watched his face for any sign of displeasure. He showed none. 

“Looks good, doll. You can sleep while we wait for it.”

You sat with that for a moment. “No.” You twisted your head up to look into his eyes. “Thank you, John. I would have driven off the road if not for you.”

He cleared his throat. “‘M glad y’came to me. Thank y’for lettin’ me take care of you.”

“I…like you taking care of me.” Your heart pounded and you became acutely aware of his hand on your shoulder, large palm and splayed fingers. 

“Yeah?” John’s voice rumbled in your ear, low and full and delicious-

“Yes,” you said earnestly, propping yourself up to look at him properly. “John, I…I…” He had the nerve to look amused. “...I…”

John chuckled. “Just stay. Stay and I’ll take care of you.” 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  

“I…don’t know what to say.”

His features softened even more, if that was possible. “Don’t have to say anythin’. Just tell me what you wanna watch.” John nodded toward the tv atop his dresser. 

“John…” you sniffled, squeezing his shirt in your hand once more. “Can I just…lay here for a while?”

“Course.” And without a further word, he plucked a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand, opened the faded western they laid on, and began to read. 

A few moments of silence pass, and they are un-fucking-bearable. Your thoughts begin to race again - He doesn’t want you here. You’re a burden. You take up more space than you deserve. What happened to looking out for yourself? You can’t, can you? Fucking pathetic, you are. What happens when he gets tired of you? What happens wh- “John?”

He looked at you over his glasses, brows raised. “Yes, sweetheart?”

You felt small again, but safer. Safer than you had in a while. “Would you mind…reading to me? I don’t think I can sleep otherwise.”

“I’m that tedious, eh?” John grinned when you flicked him on the arm. 

“No! No, I…I want you to.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, ��I’ll read to you.” He turned the page back (“Can’t start right in the action, can we?”) and began, his voice flowing in its same gravelly cadence, filling your brain with soft warmth. The story was of a merchant’s daughter and the cowboy she fell in love with, and John had just gotten to the part where her father finds out. “‘-and they came to blows, fists flying through the dusty air, the world fallen silent save for the sound of knuckles on bone, and-’ Are you asleep?”

You blinked, still very much on the verge of unconsciousness. “Nuh-uhhhh…” You stretched out under his comforter, nestling your face back onto his warm thigh. 

“S’okay,” he said. John laced his fingers through your hair once more. “Y’need the rest. Take it. I’ll wake y’up when pizza’s here.”

You needed no further encouragement. As sleep overtook you once more, you managed to mumble out, “Thanks, Daddy.”

John was very still for a very long time.

Then, “...You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

a/n: if you liked this, please let me know with a like, reblog, or comment 🤍

all dividers courtesy of @saradika

[v1x3n]

TORTURE ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - torture, cutting, 'betrayal', forced intoxication, passing out, threats.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

You could see in his eyes he didn't want to believe it but you could also see the hatred in his eyes, the betrayal and the anger. 

He stood away from you, watching as ghost, who you had known as Simon, stood in front of you, a knife draped along your tear stained cheeks. Arms tugging at the ropes that held you up against a metal pipe centered in the room, your legs tied to the cold metal, the rope strangling your flesh, your skin around the rope glowing white as the blood slowly but surely stops flowing down to your ankles and arms. “Please” you sob, tears brimming your eyes, once again whilst his knife left your cheek. “I - it's not me!” 

They don't reply as your cries fill out the room when ghost pushes the blade of the knife against your cheek, a slit quickly appearing. Crimson blood drops from the wound, the deep wound stings. You hiss at the sharp pain as Price's eyes lock onto yours, his eyes filled with a rage you had never seen before.his expression remains stoic but you could tell - deep down - he was hurt. Hurt you had ‘done’ this, hurt he trusted you, hurt he saw the person he cared for dearly betrayed him like that. Like a sly fucking fox. 

John took a step closer towards you and Simon, his boots echoing loudly in the silent yet sob filled room, your breath caught as the knife swung down to your lower abdomen. You flinch at price getting as close as he can, face to face with you. You could feel his hot breath on you - and what does he do? He fucking smirks, seeing his cruel grin right in your face brings you with such fury. “It's not fucking me!” you scream into his ear, eyes welding with tears once more, tears that dare to fall down. 

Simon's face was stiff as he slices into you, a deep cut straight into your lower abdomen, the pain makes you shout out in pain, “stop!” the tears drop from your face, trailing down you and splashing onto the floor. “Give me one fucking reason why i shouldnt slit your throat right now.” Price coldly states, his dead eyes staring into yours - no sympathy found in his gorgeous blue eyes. The cut plastered onto your cheek stings as your salty tears pours into it. The burn hurts and causes you to scream out once more, ghost rolls his eyes -  a sight you had saw after giving him a stupid fucking joke but now it was used to mock. To tell you that he doesnt fucking care about your pain anymore, he doesnt care about the cuts , the wounds and the burns he caused you. He doesn't care about you being tied here, bare and for everyone to see for weeks. He doesn't care less about the way you cry - knowing he, no, both of them, had helped you time over time to stop you and to comfort you whilst times you sobbed in front of them. 

Why didn't they help now? 

Breathing seems to get harder as the blade presses deeper into you, ghost had told you about his tactics before - this is why you weren't scared of what was coming. Because you knew. He would wear the person down, inch by inch, by constant harm and fear. Nothing too much but eventually killing them - if they dont give him what he wanted in the end, but you could see deep down he wouldnt fucking kill you - well you hoped. 

They both watch as tears pour from your tear ducts, your chest rises and falls faster than the tears drooping down your body. "I said give me a good reason. Do it now." Price grunts out, his gaze unwavering. 

“i- its not me!” you manage to choke and scream out, your lungs burning as a painful cry escapes you. All ghost and price do is chuckle, “why the fuck Would we believe you?” ghost puts the knife down against the cold, bloody floor. Your body stings as you cry out once more, “Id n-never! I swear!” their coldness sends chills down your spine, how could the people who you once called family be this cruel ? this mean ? this fucking heartless ?

“Why would i betray you when i fucking love you, john!” you blurt out, water rolling from your eyes at how this is how you had to confess. Price almost flinches at your words, you could feel his breath hitch slightly. But you were so fucking stupid if you even thought for a second that he would believe you. Ghost snorts at your words whilst your captain's eyes soften for a moment.

The masked man's cold gaze flicked between you and price, his expression revealing nothing - you wouldn't be surprised. “P-please john, i love y-you” you sob out, eyes welding with large sparks of tears. The man you are pouring your heart out too scoffs at you, “do you think we are that fucking stupid?” he spits out. Your head stings as Simon yanks your hair back harshly so you could look him in the eyes, “shut up” Simon's grip onto your hair strings as he speaks the first words he has said since he brought you in this trauma filled room. 

“Tell me the truth, do not fucking lie to us.” 

You refuse to say anything, frozen as your sob at everything these fucking men, your family had done to you. The more and more pain they had put you in caused you, muted you even more. The first day was terrible, memories of that first night repeat in your mind when you're left alone, cold and shivering - unable to sleep due to the position you were put in, it aches you. They knew you hadnt fallen asleep either, your heart- wrenching screams echoed through the room, it wouldnt have mattered if you had kept them up either, they knew non of them could sleep a blink knowing the person they loved and cared about, the person they saw and worked aside every fucking day would betray them like that? The first night was terrifying but you thought that- you hoped that it was the end and they had came to their senses overnight and finally fucking thought about it, or found out who framed you? 

Simon undid the ropes that hung you up when your mind spiraled with past thoughts, your knees hit the hard ground, you groan and put out your hands as you finally touch the floor, you haven't been this close to walking or even standing in what? Weeks? You don't know how long it has been. Your gaze shifts down to your hand, reliving the moment when Johnny has cut off some fingers, now left with 8 fingers that clench onto the floor that your blood and tears covered. 

They both look down at you on the floor and step back , almost daring you to get up but you just couldn't. Price let out a sharp breath, running a filthy hand through his hair - his frustration and anger clear on his face. “If you talk-” john breathes through his nose, “if you tell us, it'll be much easier f’ you” 

“i didnt fucking do it!” you scream out which results in a quick kick to the ribs by ghost. You grunt and he kicks you again. Wincing to each batter to the ribs, “you're making this worse on yourself, love.” John sneers, peering down at your harmed body, clearly on the verge of just giving up. They watched as you gasped for air, your mutilated hand reaching out for the ground in front of you - to try to crawl away but something, or someone stops you. John's firm foot stood onto your ankle, the odd position you fell too causing your ankle to twist, you sob a cry . his foot stamping down and twisting it further, with ghost stomping onto your ribs and price close to breaking your ankle it was too much, your cries grew and grew - your body shook from the pain. 

They stand and watch as your cries grew stronger, your tears streaming down your face and your body twitching from the harsh pain. Simon grips onto your hair once more, pulling your scalp to make you look up at them, “open your fucking mouth” he spits. 

Price pulls out a flask of some sort and jolts it to your lips, you weren't listening so he forces it through your dry lips, the metal clinking with your teeth, “he said open.” he said firmly. You try to pull back away from the potion of some sorts they had brewed. Ghost yanks your hair towards it and the flask enters your mouth, hair pulled further so you're facing up to the ceiling as the liquid enters your mouth, it burns. 

“C'mon sweet’art, swallow it down” their wicked faces blur as you gag, the disgusting drink hitting the back of your throat and pouring down as ghost holds onto your nose, you gasp for air and the burning sensation makes its way through your throat. You gag at the potion, eyes meeting up with John, your old captain. “Tha’s a good girl, hm?” His words were kind and praise-filled but his tone was gruesome and harsh, his rough exterior plastered onto his face - he just simply didn't care about what he was doing to you, well, that's what you thought. You choke loudly, drips of saliva mixed with the fluid they had shoved into your mouth falls down your chin, they both stand back. Prepared for what's next, which was you spewing your guts out, completely emptying your stomach onto the ground, a small drop of blood hitting out with the vomit, your choking and gags fills out the room. Pure pain is how it felt. Your eyes sting with tears as you cough out the brew. 

Due to your weak body, you feel your mind spinning and youre body succumbs to the intense torture, your eyes flicker and your body goes slack. Vision blurring as you pass into unconsciousness - falling into a darkness that brings a relief from the pain.

The two men stood around you notice your body go limp, exchanging a quick glance to one another and sighing. They weren't expecting you to pass out so quickly but it wasn't that much of a surprise. Your limp body almost panics them too, so ghost crouches down and places two gloved fingers to your neck, to the side of your windpipe. Checking if you were still alive. “Looks like she's done” price gruffly speaks after ghost nods, reassuring you were still alive. The masked man stands up and straightens himself back up. “Lets go” his voice low, staring down at your unconscious body and running a hand through his hair once more. They both exit, leaving you there, luckily for you they didn't tie you back up to the pipe. You were just left there - slumped on the floor. 

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[justmywriting1313]

Stupid British Man (John Price x f!Reader)

This is fairly unfinished and an unedited product of my fixation on these stupid military man and every hurt/comfort scenario you can think of but nonetheless enjoy!

PS:- I would really really REALLY love some COD requests since thats where the inspiration for writing is flourishing soooooo yeah please send stuff in thank you<3

Summary: John's a great captain but like all men in love he is also a stupid british man!

Warnings: Talk and direct mentions of smexy times, no aftercare (but not intentional and will come in part 2)

Jonathan Price is a military man...

More than that, he is a captain and a military man...

A captain in the military needs to embody many qualities, one of the most important being the ability to remain strong and stable in the face of adversity, anchored and calm in uncertainty, and always aware of their surroundings, especially when confronted with unprecedented situations that demand logic and rationality.

It's a trait John was not only confident he possessed but one he prided himself on (considering he was the captain of three complete muppets at times). Yet, as he stands there in his flannel pajamas, his member still damp and somewhat aroused from the recent pounding he gave you not five minutes ago, a warm washcloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, John has never been more flabbergasted in his life as he watches you cutely jump to pull your leggings up over your waist.

You had already fastened your bra and were now pulling your old university shirt over your head, a shirt John had previously loved. However, given that he had finally slept with you after a two-month deployment, he would prefer to see you in his clothing or nothing at all. Therefore, the sight of the worn-out piece of cloth offended him, to say the least. Even more so, because neither of you had received a lick of aftercare and the lack of it was making him antsy. Instead of waiting for him in bed like you should have, you were rummaging through your duffel bag for something John couldn't be bothered to inquire about. He was certain that nothing was important enough for you to leave the sheets before he had a chance to clean you up properly. So, with as much calm as he could muster, he said,

"What on fuckin' earth are you doing?

The heavy, accented voice of the captain makes you jump as you straighten up, not having heard him come in. You whirl around to face the man you have been infatuated with since your first meeting, the same man who fulfilled so many of your fantasies over the last few hours and is now standing in the doorway of his room with a flabbergasted look about his rugged face. The tears you had been doing a good job of suppressing so far immediately reappear, though you were adamant about not letting them fall… God forbid you be known on base as the girl who cries after sex. Instead, you give him a smile before turning away as you begin to wrangle your hair into a ponytail and reply,

"What do you mean, what am I doing, John?"

John can only splutter at your nonchalant response, his brain having completely short-circuited… Clearly, something is lost in translation.

You only shrug at his shock before continuing to gather your spread-out things into your small bag, trying your best to curb the small, pathetic whimper that is bound to leave your lips if you spend any more time in this man's room surrounded by so much of him. Instead, in the heavy silence of the room, you mull over the events of what got you in his bed in the first place…

You and John met 8 months ago when you were brought onto his military base as a licensed psychologist specialising in psychotherapy for young adults. Your main job was to work with the younger recruits, which included the ones trained by John's own men. John can still recall the first time he saw you as you came barreling in through his door, your angry voice bouncing off the walls of his office. You were a small thing, barely reaching the bottom of the man's chest, with long hair and high cheekbones. You were dressed in leggings that flared at the bottom and drove John insane, with a striped sweater on top, your soft curves visible through the knitted material.

You were the most tender thing he had seen on base, and despite all this softness, you squared off against the military captain, demanding to speak to his lieutenant and give the man a piece of your mind for traumatizing your recruits more than any battlefield could. John had never been rash a day in his life, and yet he had promised himself he would make everything and anything to do with you a personal matter.

You, on the other hand, had not perceived the butterflies the older Brit gave you until the next day when he had come knocking on your door. Dressed in a tight shirt and his camo pants, he was every girl's dream. It didn't help the butterflies in your stomach when he looked down at you with soft eyes while properly introducing himself. He then led you to the rec room of his task force where his lieutenant was sitting and brooding.

Thus began eight long months… Months of teasing glances exchanged across busy meeting rooms that made him grin and you blush. Soft touches shared either against the back of your hand when you stood side by side or across your cheek as he tucked your hair back. Eight long months of late-night talks where he would seek you out, wherever you were, with a drink of your choice in his hand and an endearing look about him as he let you jabber about how you miss baking and he told you about his parents. Eight months spent with your heart in your mouth as you watched him leave with his team, a desperate prayer for his safety on your lips as he held you against him the night before, limbs tangled together innocently yet intimately. Eight months of yearning that would only grow stronger every time he came back, his eyes finding you in a sea of military personnel and lighting you on fire each time.

And despite all this wanting, two months ago, the night before he was sent out for the longest mission yet, you overheard him with Ghost in the rec room. The box of cupcakes you smuggled into the base held tightly as the tall, rough captain unknowingly broke your heart.

"You say professional sir but everyon' sees the way you look at 'er... the little medic..." "Don't know what you're talkin' about Simon..." Price chuckles and you assume Ghost gives him a look as John continues, "Hell even if I wanted to and I am no' saying I do, I cant do anything about it can I?... she's a kid AND she's military personnel" "Then the late nights in your office are what... just meetings to go over paperwork yeah? Just a little overtime is that it?" "Come on gotta pass the time between deployments somehow" "Is that so then mind if I tell Soap–"

Thats all you had the stomach to hear, although had you stuck around you would have heard the captain confess his love. Instead you made your way to his office where you left the box of baked goods on his table and fled to your room. You spent the night muffling your tears as you came to terms with what you were to John versus what John is to you... The following morning, as you waved some of your recruits bye, your eyes met John's hurt ones, his gaze heavy with questions about where you were last night but you looked away.

Unbeknownst to John his worst worry was coming true when the two months of his deployment gave you enough time to misunderstand your importance to him. That while John was the sun to you, you were a small star in a distant galaxy that had no hope of being anything more than that... And yet you knew you would take anything he gave you, no matter how much it would hurt.

Which is why when he knocked on your room door in the middle of the night, his hair still wet from the shower he had barely managed to squeeze in, eyes tired, lost, and desperate you didn't hesitate. You didn't hesitate when his arms went around your waist drawing you into his chest, head pressed into the crook of your neck as you pressed him into you. You didn't resist or clue him on the turbulence in your head when he pulled away although barely. His hands moving from gripping the back of your shirt to your waist, grip tight as he hefted you into the air forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. Any shock on your part absorbed by his mouth as his lips found yours, your hands coming to hold his face. The kiss was desperate, it was messy. A clash of tongue and teeth as he quickly took control. You hadn't stopped to think or really breath, instead letting John fill the crevices of your mind as he carried you through the empty hallways of the barracks. Somewhere in the back of your head you wondered how no one spotted you but you were quickly distracted by his hand on your ass which kept you pressed up against him. The other on the back of your neck never letting you pulling away long enough and following your mouth as you did so. You never stopped to spill the pent up hurt that had festered unknown to the man as you whimpered into his mouth when his fingers found just the right spot, his muttered praises only getting you to your finish faster...

Your little trip down memory lane as you stuffed another shirt into your bag gave John time to get over his shock, taking a deep breath as he placed the washcloth and bottle on his nightstand. His surprise was now replaced by a desire to fix the situation.

Another aspect of being a captain was observing people, learning to read the little things about how people behaved, and now that the shock had worn off, that's what John set about doing. He watched the tension in your back gather as you stuffed your things into your bag… mementos left over from other nights that John treasured. Things that he would be pulling out of the bag as soon as he had things sorted. He watched with narrowed eyes as your face got redder, the desperation with which you were trying to hold yourself together scaring him…

Something was wrong, and he had been so consumed by his need to see you, to feel you, to know that you were alright, that he didn't stop to consider how things had been left off… To remember that you never came to his room the night before he left and that you didn't look at him at the drop zone. John realized then that whatever had upset you that night had two months to fester in your mind and that he couldn't let you leave in any capacity before everything was laid out.

He shuffled his way over to your figure as you rummaged for your ID card in your bag, needing it to get back to your room. His large hands slid into place on either side of your waist. You jolted at the sensation, registering that his hands were warm while straightening up. John didn't let your tensing stop him as he gently turned you around, his grip turning a little forceful when you tried to resist, but eventually you gave in. Your splotchy cheeks and bitten lips greeted him, and he couldn't help himself when he pressed his lips against your forehead, muttering into your skin as he did so,

"Sweetheart... whats going on?" "What do you mean John?" "I mean whats going on... whats got you packin' up your bag hmmm? Can't imagine you've got an important meetin' this time of the night have you? We also hadn't really finished had we?"

Johns doing his best to catch your eye as he talks but its futile when you keep your gaze steady on anything but his face.

"You wanted to go again?"

John balks at that response. Is that really why you think he wants you to stay? Is that really what you think of him?

"What? No no darlin' I mean you were up before I gotta chance to clean you up... I don't know about the men you've been with before sweet girl but a gentleman cleans up his lady... and of course a cuddle after..."

He pouts through the last part though you don't look up to see it. Your eyes remain trained on his muscular neck and John does his best to remain patient. He knows you, no matter how foreign your apprehension of him may feel right now. He knows you and he knows you're hurting which is why you're avoiding his eyes because the minute he gets you to see him you break,

"Oh... oh you don't have to John... I'm alright I can just go, I'm sure you're tired and want to rest and i don't want to keep you..."

John groans lowly in frustration at you not getting his point, his grip subconsciously tightening as if you would run off the minute he lets go and to his credit thats not a difficult situation to imagine,

"Fuckin' hell, okay sweetheart lets try this another way. Why do you think you have to go anywhere huh? I though' we could lay down and have a cuddle... even took the day off tomorrow to spen' it with you yeah? Want to know what you've been up to? Maybe step off the base and take you out for a proper meal?"

With each word out his mouth your confusion and hurt climb reaching a crescendo until your ears are ringing and you need to get away from this sweet talking brit before you crumble. However, Johns a stubborn man particularly when he sets his mind to something so no amount of squirming on your end makes him let you go as you begin to blabber each source of pain out in the open,

"Let me go, let me go, let me go John... You're so mean you know that? So so so mean... You come into my life all soft and sweet and gentle with me calling me pretty things that I've only imagined being called and you came in and made me care about you when I was so happy in my own bubble but still I started to care and then I find out its only for me to be something you pass time with nothing more and then you come back and I love you so much that ill take anything I can get from you even if its one night and then you have the audacity to stand there and be all sweet and caring when you and I both know that this will never be anything more and you know what maybe I am a child because this is too much–"

Your ranting is cut off by John whose own pulse has become frantic at all that you've laid out before him. You love him! Wait why do you think this is a one night thing? what do you means passing the time? One hands grips your upper arm, the other forcing your face up to look at him as your fists continue to push but to no avail,

"Whoa whoa okay look at me... look at me sweet girl... not letting you go until I ge' your eyes on me yeah? You can fight all you wan' but 'm not letting go until you get you damn eyes on me yeah? Come on... there you go good girl now what do you mean something to pass time with huh? What got that daft idea into that pretty head or that this would be a one night thing? Talk to me yeah "

John's barely finished before the words escape you in a breathless sob

“You, you stupid British man!”

Okay I was too excited to post it so here but if the reception to it is you know good ill post the second bit which is already written 👀

As always please reblog yes? yes okaieee byee

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio, There's Always A Duo

John Price X Reader

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

A/N:this is probably the angstiest fic I've written in a while lol, the idea popped up in my head after scrolling tiktok and now I'd like you all to suffer with me(also I know I promised the Gaz fic first, it is coming! I promise!) warnings:mentions of blood, injuries, wounds, gore, depressive thoughts, thoughts of suicide, mentions of death

Price had been the one to introduce you to everyone, saying that you were the newest member of their team. Gaz welcomed you with open arms and even offered to show you around so that you wouldn’t get lost. Soap was happy to greet you, talking too quickly for you to understand even half of what he’d been saying. Ghost was a little more closed off, friendly enough to say hello and introduce himself but didn’t go out of his way to be your friend. It was something you were used to, men in the military were one of three things. Friendly, flirty, or standoffish. While Ghost wasn’t your typical “I’m better than you” military meathead, he wasn’t an open book.

It was all fine though, you had gotten close to the rest of the group and made friends with all of them quick enough. Alejandro and Rudy were much friendlier during the first meeting, Rudy and you swapped recipes and talked about your interests. Ale joked that you would end up stealing his best friend right from under his nose. Of course you would never do that, stealing someone else’s best friend was a big no no in your book.

“I would never steal him away from you! Best friends are sacred.” You smiled over at Ale, watching the way he became flustered ever so slightly.

“Well, thank you then.” He wasn’t sure what to say, most people teased them for being such close friends, this was a nice change.

“Of course, no need to thank me.” Rudy pulled you back into the conversation, explaining how to properly cook one of his mother’s best dishes.

It went on like that for months, you making friends with everyone on the task force, along with Ale and Rudy. When everyone would go home for break you didn’t leave, assuring everyone that you would leave the following day. No one needed to know that you didn’t want to go back to your family, their toxicity pushing you to where you were now. Your mother had been an alcoholic your entire life, your father no better when he actually bothered to come around. Your brother had up and left the moment he turned eighteen, leaving you behind to suffer.

No one needed to know what happened in your past, to them things were good and you had a loving family. They didn’t need to know that you had nothing left waiting for you, no family, and no friends for if you succumbed to your death during a mission. You’d wanted to tell them the truth so badly, that you truly weren’t alright, but you couldn’t.

You were out at the bar with everyone, sitting between Gaz and Soap. The Scot had interrupted you nearly five times now, voice booming as he recalled a tale about how Price had embarrassed himself during a mission. You bit your lip, sinking into your seat and not bothering to try and speak up anymore. The night continued on like that, everyone talking about different things as the drinks flowed. You’d even learnt a little bit more about Ghost, how his parents weren’t the nicest of people, how he’d done what he could to help them. It reminded you of your own situation, abusive parents that refused to take accountability.

It continued on like that for months, you would head out with everyone and continue to turn into nothing but a shadow. Seven turned to six, six turned into five, and soon enough it was only you, Ghost, and Soap going out. Price was too busy with paperwork, Ale and Rudy had their own duties to attend to, and Gaz was seeing someone. You were happy for Gaz, he was a total catch and anyone with eyes could see how attractive he was. Though you missed his corny jokes at the tables when you’d go out. Soap was the main jokester, Ghost throwing in a few from time to time to throw the Scot off his game.

It was strange seeing Ghost without his mask, the first time your jaw dropped open but you refused to comment. Nothing more humiliating than bringing up someone’s scars to them when you’re in public. He ignored everyone who tried to flirt with him, shutting down their advances with a “not interested” before they could utter another word. That same night they left you behind at the pub, you’d gone to the bathroom to relieve yourself before heading back. When you walked out the table was empty and cleaned, surely they were waiting outside. However once you stepped foot outside you noticed the truck you’d all driven in was gone as well.

Your throat closed up as you realized they had completely forgotten you, the base was over ten miles away. Refusing to try and call them, you tugged your jacket closer to your body and made the journey on foot. Price was still awake when you arrived, feet nearly bleeding from the blisters you now had, and tears running down your face.

“Sweetheart? What’s going on?” Price abandoned his paperwork to rush over to you.

You lied and told him you were simply too intoxicated and had forgotten you had gone to the pub with Soap and Ghost, the two men soundly asleep in their own rooms. He didn’t look as if he believed you, but nonetheless he let it slide. You would tell him the truth when you finally felt ready. Instead of pushing for more answers he helped treat your wounds, and gave you some warmer clothes to sleep in for the night.

Your sleep had been restless that night, struggling to get over how much pain you were in physically, and emotionally. Maybe they had just forgotten because you hadn’t talked the entire night? Sure, that’s what it probably was.

Price kept you on light work for the next two weeks, letting your feet heal before putting you into weapons and basic training. You were being sent out on a mission in a few days and he wanted everyone to be prepared. You stuck close by Gaz and Price for the most part, not wanting a repeat of the pub again. Training was easy, you excelled with each weapon you were given and surpassed everyone else, even Ghost.

Laswell was happy with the progress you’d made since joining, happy to know you had integrated so well with everyone else on the team. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know the entire truth, or that you were miserable deep down. She lead the briefing for your next mission, you were to get the intel required and get out, taking out any hostels if needed. You were a little nervous, the last firefight you’d gone into had nearly gotten you killed. Had Rudy not yanked you down behind the pillar you wouldn’t be standing there.

The helicopter hovered as you rappelled down onto the ground, unclipping your belt and grabbing your gun. There was no one as far as you were able to see, though you couldn’t be too careful, enemies were trained to hide in plain sight. Price and Ghost lead the group, guns raised as they begin a slow but cautious walk towards the building. No one noticed the enemy as they slid from behind their own hiding spots. 

The bullets were raining down on the group before any of the guys or yourself could take cover. Price had thrown Gaz behind one of the pillars, Ghost doing the same with Soap to help prevent his teammate from becoming swiss cheese. Alejandro wrapped his arms around Rudy and tackled him to the ground, laying completely still until the sound of the enemy reloading calmed his nerves. It wasn’t until they realized that you were laying out in the open, screams ripping the air apart as you began to slowly bleed out. Ghost’s heart stopped, how the hell did they completely forget about another person! 

“Shit!” Soap turned to run around Soap’s bulky frame, grunting as Ghost grabbed the collar of his tac vest.

“You do that an’ you’re both dead!” Ghost couldn’t risk someone else getting injured, they needed to neutralize the threat.

“We need to save her!” Soap couldn’t watch you bleed out, it would destroy him.

“Stand down!” Ghost winced as the gunfire drew closer, they needed to retreat before they lost anyone else.

The group slowly retreated, watching the way your frame became smaller and smaller with each step they took. Ghost was gnawing the inside of his jaw, angry that he’d let something like this happen under his watch. Shit, they’d have to figure out how to get you back before you ended up bleeding out on the field.

“Ghost!” Gaz was staring over at the older man, eyes wide with terror.

The enemy had grabbed you, running off while they seemed to be too preoccupied figuring out a plan to stop them in their tracks. His blood ran cold, they were surely going to kill you if they couldn’t rescue you soon enough.

“Stop them!” Ghost raised the gun in his arms, aiming down the scope to try and get a shot off.

It was with a sickening realization that he noticed they were all gone, nothing but dust kicked up in the air as they fled. He’d always kept everyone safe, or as safe as he could when they were in enemy territory. This? This was his worst nightmare come to life, someone getting injured and captured because of his actions. How the hell had he not realized you were near him? While you were quiet when needed you always made your presence known.

“We’ll get them back, but we can’t go in with our heads up in the clouds.” Price was angry, they were split up into two groups. 

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

“You let her get hurt, you were too busy keeping an eye on Soap that she got hurt!” Gaz stood up harshly, stomping over to where Ghost and Soap were crouched.

“Hey! Let’s not start going at each other’s throats.” Price grabbed onto his tac vest, stopping him before he could reach the other two.

“I saw it, she was walking too far from Ghost and instead of remembering that she was even there he saved Soap instead, and now she’s been taken by the fucking enemy!” Gaz was angry, angrier than he’d been in quite a while.

Ghost wanted to deny it, that he had been keeping an eye on you the entire time, but it would’ve been a dirty lie. It had been obvious over the last few months how little attention they ever spared you, especially him and Soap. The three of you would go out during your leave together and it was simply as if you didn’t exist to them. You were the third wheel during their conversations, trying your hardest to speak up only to be ignored.

Everyone had gone out for a night of drinks and dinner, mainly because Price all but demanded on getting off base for at least one night. Things had been silent for a little while and he needed to release some tension. You and Gaz were up getting drinks for everyone at the bar, the waitress already swinging by to get everyone’s order for food. Price had seen how sullen your expression was, the sparkle your eyes usually had seemed so dull now. Maybe this would help bring it back and things would go back to normal. You were his favorite(don’t tell Simon)and he would do his damndest to make sure you were okay.

“Sorry about the wait, bar was a little busier than expected.” You and Gaz set down all the drinks, being careful not to spill any liquid onto the, for now, clean table.

“No worries love, food won’t be out for a little while anyway.” Price smiled at the way your face flushed, proud that he could still have you blushing like a schoolgirl. 

The conversation seemed to flow easily with everyone, Gaz was telling a story from his teenage years that had everyone laughing. He’d embarrassed himself trying to impress a girl and refused to even look her in the eye afterwards. You opened your mouth to make a comment before Soap cut you off, the entire table echoing with laughter. Clearing your throat quietly you took a quick sip of your drink. 

The chatter died down once the food was brought out, everyone eating in near silence, save for the bustle of the restaurant around you. You wanted to talk about something, anything, but the timing never felt right. So instead of opening your mouth to talk you kept eating, your stomach turning slightly as you pushed the food around the plate. The chance to strike up a new conversation was dulled entirely once Ghost started talking about something. You didn’t bother to listen, eyes locked onto your plate as you tried to muster up the energy to keep eating.

Everyone was pulled into the conversation, offering their own bits and pieces here and there, everyone except for you. Why bother speaking to people who clearly didn’t notice when you did anyway? It would be a waste of energy and you needed to worry about what would happen on your next mission. Only you didn’t notice the way Price’s gaze lingered on you, a frown marring his nearly perfect features.

“If you don’t get them back, then I sure the fuck will.” Gaz knew the risks that rescuing you would entail and right now he was willing to take that risk.

“Kyle, if you go running in there you’ll be dead before you can get to her. I’ll go with you.” Price was willing to do whatever it took to get you back.

“Sir.” Soap felt terrible, had he kept a closer eye on you this wouldn’t have happened.

“No, we need to start thinking about how we’re going to rescue her, I’ll call Laswell.” Price turned and walked off without waiting for anyone to follow.

Ale and Rudy were horrified, they’d known the men for quite a while, having only just met you a few months prior, and watching the way this had gone down? It sickened them, but they wouldn’t voice those opinions out loud. They’d do whatever needed to be done to rescue you, to make sure that you came back home alive.

You, Ghost, and Soap were all sitting in the cafeteria, trying to enjoy the MRE’s that had been given to you earlier that day. A new shipment wouldn’t be in for a few more days so you were suffering through what had been left over. They weren’t terrible, but it was obvious why these were the ones left over from everyone else. Ghost and Soap had been keeping conversation going between them from the moment you sat down. You didn’t bother to say a word, simply ate your rather dry and tasteless food and waited for it to be gone so you could leave.

It was becoming more obvious as each day passed how little they liked having you around, from the way they would simply ignore you, to even brushing you off when you tried to join the conversation. It had stung in the beginning, but this was something that happened quite often, and you weren’t going to sit there and whine like a child. No, instead you learned to hide the disappointment and hurt deep down inside. If John ever found out how you were mentally, he’d have you discharged before you could even blink and stop him.

“‘M tellin’ ya! You nevah believe me!” Soap was laughing at something Ghost had said, you were sure of that, but the effort to even pretend to listen was too much.

“Oh will you stop with that? I don’t need to believe ya if I don’ want to.” Ghost rolled his eyes, shoving another forkful of…something into his mouth.

Neither of them had so much as glanced at you in the twenty minutes it had been since you’d sat down, another reminder that you weren’t wanted. Your throat closed up slightly, a sickening feeling clawing at your chest as you tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. That was all wiped away when Price walked in, your back straightened immediately. It was a habit you had tried to break so often but never seemed to be able to.

“At ease soldier, just here to let you know that we’ll be headed out at 0400, so I suggest you get ready to go.” Price nodded at you before heading out.

You would all be debriefed on the plane ride over, it was something Price had begun to do so you went into the mission with the details fresh in your mind. Unless things were sensitive, then he wouldn’t run the risk of the wrong person hearing. Maybe this would finally be the mission you’d be left behind, a girl could have dreams right?

Soap was pacing the room, mumbling to himself to figure out how he could even try and get back on your good side. It was his fault that you were not only shot, but also captured. Price had gotten into contact with Laswell the moment they were back to safety. She was furious, asking how you’d managed to get captured when it was a simple recon. Gaz had exploded then, telling her how Ghost and Soap had been too caught up in each other to keep an eye on you. Price had to calm him down, nearly threatening him.

“There’s been an update, and before any of you say anything I need you to watch this and not rip out each other’s throats.” Laswell turned towards the screen, hitting play.

The screen was blurry for a few seconds before your slumped over form became clearer, it was obvious they’d done a shitty patch up job to your wounds. Your wrists and ankles were bound to the chair, blood dripping down your temple.

“If you want her back, we want something as well.” A voice, presumably someone behind the camera, spoke.

You laughed loudly, the sound surely causing your head to throb as you struggled to sit upright in the wooden chair.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone worse to ransom. Everyone knows I'm expendable on the team, nothing but a throwaway.” Your smile tore at Price’s heart, you looked defeated, ready for the comforting embrace of death.

They growled in anger, fist colliding with your jaw as a sickening crack echoed through the speakers. You groaned, spitting blood onto the floor with a huff.

“You don’t understand, they’re never going to come back for me. You’re better off letting me just die.” Your body was begging for death now, pain surging through every nerve ending.

The man turned towards the camera, angry that you seemed so unwilling to help get whatever they were so desperate for.

“You have two days.” The screen suddenly went black, leaving the room completely silent.

Price walked over to Laswell, afraid of what answer he was going to get for the million questions running through his mind.

“How long do we have?” The video wasn’t brand new, they would never actually give the men enough time to properly plan.

“Less than twenty four hours, we found her location from that bracelet you gave her a few months ago.” Ghost’s head whipped around, why was his captain giving you gifts?

“Everyone gear up, we need to get her back before it’s too late.” Price wasn’t going to waste another second, not when you were so close to death.

The plane was fueled up and ready to go by the time everyone headed out, briefing over the plan during the flight. Gaz would go in guns blazing if it meant saving you, and he’d force Ghost and Soap to wait until they got you. It was reckless to think that way of course, and being angry with his teammates wouldn’t do him any good either. Once you were back and safe with them he’d reprimand the other two. It didn’t matter that Ghost ranked higher than him, he’d give those two an earful they’d never forget.

“Rudy, do you have eyes on her?” Price walked over to check the monitor, a small sigh of relief when he saw your outline.

You were still breathing, the motions slow and labored as you struggled with each breath. Rudy was going to stay on the plane, keeping an eye out to make sure no one tried to sneak on. It was a risky move, especially considering he’d be sitting alone, save for Nikolai. They each geared up, checking their weapons ammunition to make sure everything was loaded.

“Hold down the fort til we get back.” Price slapped a hand against Rudy’s shoulder, nodding towards Gaz and Ale to follow him.

Ghost knew better than to argue, Price was their leader and right now he was definitely on his shit list. Soap wasn’t getting off scot free either, it had been both of them that caused this entire situation. No, the focus was solely on you, Ghost could deal with the repercussions later on when you were safe.

Their footsteps were silent, Gaz lockpicking the door before heading inside behind Price and Ale, guns drawn high as they looked around for enemies. The air was thick with tension, sweat beading up underneath Price's hat as he tried to keep his breathing steady. The sound of fists colliding with skin they picked up pace. They’d managed to find you quicker than expected, but what awaited them beyond those doors?

“Tell us where they are!” It was the same voice as your abuser from the tape, they were enraged at how you simply laughed at their anger.

“I’m tellin’ ya, don’ know shit.” You groaned as his fist collided with your stomach, doubling over in the chair as much as you physically could.

They’d been interrogating you for hours, doing whatever they could to get any information from you before they’d finally send you into the afterlife. The pain was excruciating, resonating through your body like a livewire. How long would you last before you would finally succumb to the wounds that adorned your skin?

The sound of gunshots echoed inside the tiny room, deafening you as the pain in your skull amplified by a thousand. You’d surely had a concussion, if the amount of times you’d been punched had anything else to do with it. The scent of gunpowder and blood filled the air, though you were positive almost half of the blood was yours. A hand grabbing your face caused you to flinch back violently, a terrified screaming ripping from your lips.

“Please! No more!” Whoever had killed your captors wouldn’t have the best intentions for you.

“Sweetheart it’s me, we’re here to get you.” Gaz’s voice was calm, even if his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

“Gaz.” Your eyes filled with tears, staring back at your teammate and friend.

Price stood right behind him, eyes filled with worry at your state, they needed to get you to a medic immediately. Gaz cut through the ropes binding you to the chair, helping you to stand up. It became obvious that one of your legs was broken as you stumbled in his hold, grabbing onto your thigh with a vice grip.

“Fuck, I’m gonna let Price carry you to the plane, we’ll get you hooked up to an IV to get some fluids in you, alright?” You could barely nod but it was enough of a confirmation to hand you over to Price.

He lifted you gently, cradling you in his arms as Gaz and Ale lead the way back out. Ghost and Soap were checking for any stragglers, not wanting to leave anyone else alive. They hadn’t managed to find anyone, or anything else of importance when they met back up with you. Soap could see the way Price was holding you, as if you would turn into dust in his arms. The two men wanted to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness but with Price it wouldn’t be allowed. You needed to make that decision on your own.

“Alright, we’re gonna get you back to base soon enough,” Price had let the team medic take over, checking your vitals and setting up an IV drip.

Ghost opened his mouth to apologize before Gaz’s glare stopped him in his tracks, Soap quietly sat down in a seat without so much as glancing at you. Clearly some things needed to be worked out, and right now they weren’t going to be talked about. Ghost never backed down from a challenge, not when it came to his teammates. He’d gotten enough shit from Soap to last him a lifetime, lord knows the other man never knew when to stop.

That was the whole point though, wasn’t it? He was being taught a very important lesson about how blind he’d become. Maybe not literally, but Ghost was focusing on the wrong things and it was biting him in the ass now. Soap didn’t seem any better, silently sulking in his seat as he went through a million different scenarios in his head. How long had you been suffering in silence while they simply ignored you? How terrible of a friend was he that he didn’t even notice what was going on.

“We left her at the pub one night.” Ghost nearly missed Soap’s words over the engine of the plane.

“What?” His head whipped around, when the hell had they genuinely forgotten you during a night out?

“Remember O’Malley’s? It was that one.” Soap felt the guilt eating at his soul.

Everything began to hit him like a freight train, they were neglecting you both and off the battlefield. You were an amazing teammate and an even better friend and they’d completely taken you for granted. They didn’t know anything about you aside from that you’d joined the army at eighteen and were now with the task force. The first thing Ghost would do was apologize and do whatever he could to help ease your pain.

“We’re about to land, already let them know we’ve got injuries.” The routine medic, a man named Jacob that couldn’t be any older than twenty two, began to prep you for departure.

You’d need surgery to set your leg properly, the break was most likely a shatter which would cause an intense infection. Nurses ran out to grab the gurney, rushing you inside to get you prepped and ready. Price stood at the top of the ramp, back turned towards everyone else.

“You will not go near her at all, she’s going to need space to process and heal. Do I make myself clear?” Price glanced over his shoulder at Soap and Ghost.

“Sir I-” “I said, do I make myself clear sergeant?” Price couldn’t let his emotions take over, but losing a teammate because of someone else’s negligence.

“Yes sir.” Soap straightened up in his seat, ignoring the way he felt like a scorned child.

“Good, we’ll have a debrief once she’s out of surgery.” You wouldn’t be joining, but once he knew you would be alright Price could finally relax.

The doctor and nurses worked quickly to fix the broken bones littered across your body, extracting pieces of bone that had dug into the muscle of your thigh. It took them over five hours to fix you completely, relaying the news to Price. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the worry that you wouldn’t pull through finally gone. Now it was all about making sure you healed properly.

Laswell called them to the debriefing, waiting until everyone was seated before beginning with getting every piece of information. Her expression didn’t give away any emotion of how she felt, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, getting attached to the task force. She was a little upset with them though, being unaware of your surroundings could cost your life.

“Unfortunately, she’s going to have to be discharged..permanently.” Price slammed his hands down.

“Absolutely not! You are not sending her off after everything that’s happened.” How could they just throw you away so easily?!

“I’m sorry John, this is even outside of my own jurisdiction. She got injured during a mission and might not be able to walk properly for a few years.” Fuck, you were going to be devastated hearing this.

“If she’s gone, then so am I.” Price was risking a lot for you, but you’d saved his life countless times before.

Laswell sighed, running a hand over her face before heading off to contact god knows who and see if they could keep you as part of the task force. He hadn’t fought to get this team together for nothing, and he would do whatever he could to keep everyone together. Things would work out, they had to.

—---------

You’d been struggling through physical therapy, learning to walk after having your right femur reconstructed was not easy. Price had found you the best physical therapist in all of England, determined to make sure you made a full recovery. It warmed your heart that he was so willing to help, to make sure that you were safe. He’d been by your side for months, helping you settle into your apartment and all but moving into the spare bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you’re doing amazing.” Price was standing at the opposite end of the walk way, ready to catch you in case you lost your balance.

“Fucking hurts.” You winced, arms shaking as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

Price hadn’t wanted to tell you, but Ghost and Soap had wanted to apologize, to sit down and have a discussion about everything. He wouldn’t push the subject if you disagreed, you deserved to be treated with respect first and foremost. It would be better to wait until you were back in the apartment where you could relax. Maybe he could give you one of his sweaters to wear, you always seemed to relax when wearing his clothes.

Your physical therapist was happy with your progress, saying that you were exceeding expectations and could possibly go down to three days a week instead of four. It made you feel a little bit better, knowing you were doing so well. You hadn’t been in the apartment for longer than two minutes before Price was wrapping one of his jackets around your shoulders. It was something he tended to do when he had bad news.

“Now you have every right to say no, but Johnny and Simon want to come by and talk.” John waited to see how you would react, knowing physical therapy had been a good day he felt optimistic.

“What’s there to even talk about? That they don’t see me as anything other than an annoyance? John, we're having a good day, I don’t want to ruin it.” Your eyes were pleading with him.

He wanted to argue that this conversation needed to happen or else things would only get worse for everyone. So, instead of listening to your pleas of “don’t you dare call them” John let them know to come over. He’d make it up to you later with a great dinner and some dessert. After all it was the very least he could do after subjecting you to their antics. Hopefully Johnny didn’t end up saying the wrong thing and pissing you off even more.

—-----

No one had dared utter a word for nearly ten minutes once Johnny and Simon arrived. The taller of the two had forgone even his surgical mask, muttering how it felt wrong to hide. Johnny was twiddling his thumbs, waiting for someone to break the ice so that he could make amends. John had made you a cup of cocoa(extra marshmallows and whipped cream as always). Simon sighed to himself before straightening up in his seat on the couch.

“No amount of I’m sorries will ever be enough for what happened. We never truly realized how shitty our actions were because we’d gotten so used to routine that adding someone else didn’t feel natural. I’m not saying that as an excuse, you didn’t deserve what happened, and I fully blame myself for you getting taken and for all of this.” Simon gestured vaguely to where you were perched in what was apparently John’s favorite chair.

You glanced at Simon over the rim of your mug, sipping the warm liquid as you soaked in his words. Simon wanted to mention the dollop of whipped cream on the end of your nose, but John beat him to it. He reached over and gently turned your head to face him, wiping off the cream with his thumb. Your smile was radiant, eyes sparkling as you stared back at your captain. 

Oh.

Oh.

This was something entirely new, but it also explained why John had been so angry that you were going to be discharged originally. Somehow they’d convinced Laswell, and whoever else, that you were too much of an essential player to lose. You were in love, and here they were intruding on an otherwise very personal moment. John suddenly seemed to remember the other two were there, awkwardly clearing his throat before sitting back in his seat.

“It’s going to take a while before I can fully trust you guys again, I’ve been through a lot in my life but having my teammates basically throw me to the wolves? It fucking hurts.” Maybe it was time to finally come clean about your life and who you truly were.

You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, telling them about your abusive home life growing up before finally making it out and finding a purpose in life. How on every break you would stay on base and make sure it looked like you’d left when they all came back home. You didn’t want their pity, you just needed them to finally understand why you were hurt by their actions.

John had carefully scooped you up and placed you into his lap when tears began to slide down your cheeks, comforting you the best way he could. Simon could understand your pain, having dealt with abuse from his own father growing up. It was a reminder that sometimes the strongest people were often hiding the darkest past. He’d done the same thing for years, refusing to open up and let anyone close.

“We really just wanted to apologize for treating you like shit, and wanting to make sure that you were doing better now.” Johnny could see that even being shot, tortured, and left for dead that you still had that shine to you.

“I know, I’m just going to need time to process everything, it hasn’t been easy.” You wanted to forgive them, but deep down the feeling that it would happen all over again ate at your mind.

“I understand lass.” Johnny nodded, he would gladly give you time to process and even see if you could forgive him.

John set you back into the chair so he could walk Johnny and Simon out, promising to keep in touch if anything changed. He wouldn’t disrespect your decision, and with the other two being on board he wasn’t going to argue. Now it was time to sit and think about what he could make for you to make up for everything.

“Hey, I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve been doing, it means a lot.” You pushed yourself off the chair slowly, stepping over to John who looked seconds away from panicking.

“You don’t need to thank me love, it’s my pleasure.” He kept his hands out, ready to help in case you needed it.

“You’re doing a lot more than you might think, so yes, I do need to thank you.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, slightly winded at how far you’d had to walk.

John’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. He wanted to lie and say it was only because he was afraid you’d stumble. How would you react to hearing about his true feelings? Knowing that he’d harbored a crush for frankly much too long than was appropriate to be honest. Your gaze landed on his face, lips parted as you watched the way his eyes dilated ever so slightly. John couldn’t stop himself before he was kissing you, lips pressed softly against yours. You would be a liar if you’d said you hadn’t dreamt of this before, hoping that John felt the same way towards you.

You were the first to pull away, face flushed and lungs desperate for air as you clung to the cotton shirt John wore. A small chuckle slipped through his lips, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled your bodies closer.

“I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while if I’m being honest.” Your heart was racing, had you really heard him correctly?

“So have I.” You rested your forehead against his chest, relishing in the warmth he exuded.

Neither of you made to move from the kitchen, simply wrapped in each other’s embrace. You couldn’t forgive Simon and Johnny for causing the damage they did. But maybe they helped push you into the right direction. tagging: @gaylemonshark

[bonitanightmxres]

Break the Rules || JOHN PRICE

PAIRING: Captain John Price x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Months after breaking up, you and price agree to a “no strings attached” relationship to fill the void in your lives—but it proves to be harder than anticipated when you both start to catch feelings again.

WARNINGS: smut, 18+ mdni, angst, language, some kinda fluff i think lol

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

Price’s breath becomes heavy as you lay underneath him, wrists pinned to the bed. He mutters a string of curses as he thrusts into you, hips meeting yours. You can tell not by his pace, but by the force with which John digs into your hips with his hands as he grabs hold of you that he’s had a rough day. So rough, in fact, that he’s being rough with you; because on those days, you woke up the next morning with purple bruises that perfectly matched the shape of his fingers.

When your hands traveled along his body, and found their grip on his back as your nails dug into the skin, he shuddered. Obviously, you’d done it on purpose, knowing full well how to elicit that kind of reaction– it wasn’t your first time doing that to him. You were gentle, though, just barely grazing the skin as you scratched his back, careful to not be too rough. You both knew the rule– no visible marks. After all, you had appearances to keep. If he were to change in the locker room with his team in the vicinity, he didn’t need all the questions as to where he got all the marks on his back from, and he especially didn’t need them to ask about you; and you, for one, could really do without having to waste makeup on hiding hickeys and bruises again. But, you did wonder what it might be like if you did happen to break the rules a little. Just thinking about other people seeing the marks you’d leave on his skin the way you used to, made your heart race; or if he just let loose every once in a while and accidentally lost himself in you, and left a hickey or two on your shoulder peeking out of the collar of your shirt so that your friends could see; and they could ask you who left it, and you’d giggle shyly, telling them about your rekindled romance. 

Yeah, that was something you’d sell your soul for.

With the way he begins to slow down and make sure that he’s inside you as deep as possible with every languid thrust tells you that he’s close. He was easy to read like that. As he buries his head in your neck, the hair of his beard tickles your skin and his deep groans become louder for you to hear. You place your hands on the back of his head, softly tugging at his hair, coaxing the orgasm out of him the way that you’d done before, knowing that it always made him cum just a little bit harder. You smirk a little when you’re proven right and feel him twitch; all he can muster out is a breathy “fuckin’ hell”. When his body collapses next to yours, you have half the mind to curl up closer to him, to nuzzle your way around his arm and place a hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat. But that would be too intimate– and that’s against the rules.

Sex was just sex. Simple as that– two consenting adults in an agreement to use each other without any kind of romantic feelings. And who better to be in this kind of agreement with than your ex-lover? The one who knew everything about you, down to how to make you writhe and beg for more. The rules in this agreement were his idea, so as to not get confused, given your history with each other. And you had been perfectly fine with them at the time.

But that all began to change.

“I’m gonna shower. You’re more than welcome to join me,” you say cheekily as you enter the bathroom, and he chuckles slightly. “But if you’re gone by the time I get out, have a good day. Tell the boys I say hi.”

He was always gone by the time you finished showering after sex. And tonight was no different. But that didn’t stop you from wishing that maybe one night you’d come back to find him sleeping soundly in your bed again. Or that you’d wake up in the middle of the night with his arm draped over you, thumb softly rubbing your arm as he drifted off to sleep because that’s how he fell asleep the fastest. You scoffed at yourself in the mirror as you combed the tangles out of your hair.

How pathetic, you thought. You’re over here losing your fucking mind dreaming up some perfect little fairytale where you and John Price live happily ever after when you’re the reason you’re broken up in the first place. Hell, for all you knew, there was some other girl waiting for him in her bed too. But maybe he took his time with her, talked with her about things other than work or the weather; or better yet, maybe on her bad days, he didn’t know what to do, so he just held her. Or maybe he was the one who confided in her, and talked through his frustrations with her and thanked her for being there for him, instead of taking out his frustrations on her with her ass up and face in the pillows like he did with you. Obviously, you weren’t complaining about that, but you wanted more. You wanted the relationship that you and Price had agreed to keep out of whatever this was. No other woman had known him like you did—how he liked his breakfast in the morning, and that he preferred to spend his weekends out and about, but appreciated weekends spent inside the house. And the thought of him going to someone else for the things he used to go to you for, made you sick. 

Physically and emotionally ill.

But it wasn’t that John was some animal, some kind of alpha type who didn’t suddenly didn’t care about you and your feelings, since technically you weren’t together anymore. That wasn’t the case at all—it was the opposite. He always made sure to talk to you, make sure you were good to go, or that you were okay afterwards, and that was the problem, ironically. John Price treated you like something more than just the woman he was fucking and somehow in the middle of all the complexities and hesitations, he made you feel like you were his again and you fucking hated it. You hated it because it hurt too much to admit that you missed him. If only he’d been mean, or treated you like you meant nothing to him–then your life would’ve been easier.

But, no.

Instead, he treated you as he always had done, even way back when you were dating; from greeting you with a smile to offering to help clean you up if need be—but you never let him, electing to take a shower each time instead. Not because you didn’t want him to, but because you couldn’t stand to sleep while smelling of him, not when you couldn’t call him yours. With every quick hug or kiss on the head, he only made you fall harder, which went against the whole foundation of what you guys had. It was rule number one, and you had gone and fucked up and broken it like a fool.

A couple weeks had gone by since the last time John had heard from you. Every time the ding of his phone went off, he hurried to it, hoping that it might have been you. Of course, none of his notifications were you, as he’d kept your conversation muted on the ‘do not disturb’ setting on his phone. It was too risky. If his task force ever caught a glimpse of your name in his phone or any of the messages, he’d never hear the end of it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed by you, but more so that he had a reputation to keep. How was it going to look if he, the captain, were distracted? If something went wrong on a mission, he’d blame himself for being too caught up in his own world than paying necessary attention to what really mattered.

That’s what he told himself anyway, and for a while, he believed it.

But it drove him fucking crazy. If he could, he’d go back to that Monday night all those months ago, and ignore the tension between you as you tried to talk through your relationship; he’d put aside his own desire and he’d stop himself from making the second worst decision of his life by declining your proposal to continue seeing each other with “no strings attached”. But if he really could, he’d go back to the beginning of that stressful phase in your relationship that took a toll on both of you; and he’d stop himself from making the worst decision of his life–letting you go.

Every time you sought each other out, he became more addicted than the last. And John knew it was starting to affect you too, he hoped it did. With the way you’d softly touch him when you thought he’d fallen asleep, or the way you wanted to just talk with him. He saw it in your eyes when you held back, wanting more so desperately but were afraid to do it, afraid that you’d push him away. 

And when you sent him a text during the third week of not having heard from you, he knew he was ruined for good.

—

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t do it, that you’d keep your urges to yourself and find some other way to satiate the hunger that ran rampant through your body. But there was nothing like John and there was no way you were going to be satisfied until you had him.

So there you were, sat on top of him, legs on either side of his waist as you take every bit of him inside, and ride him in a way that his cock hits your walls with every movement of your hips. He sits up on the bed, while his big hands keep you in place. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him close so that you’re chest to chest. Hiding your face in his neck, you want to scream his name, but you hold back, biting your bottom lip and only allowing yourself to quietly moan. But the way that he holds your waist, guiding you up and down, or forward and back in such a way that he knows makes your body react more, makes it harder to keep control. You need more. You want more, but it feels so fucking good right now that you’re practically put into a trance, like you’re moving on autopilot with not a care in the world. Your vision becomes blurry, and your brain is consumed with the feeling of ecstasy that comes with riding John like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“Nghhh,” you cry out when you feel his cock hit just the right spot, nearly making you cum right then and there that you have to grab onto his shoulders for support and lift your head. “I-I’m… God, fuck–”

“That’s it,” he coos, trailing his hands up your body, giving your breasts a rub and a pinch to your nipples, sending a sudden shock through your body. “That’s my girl.”

He didn’t mean to say it, it just came out in the heat of the moment and he regretted it as soon as the words fell off his lips. Price wanted to apologize, but he feared he’d be making a big deal out of nothing because, of course, it was just sex. Maybe you didn’t even realize what he’d said. Still, “my girl” was way too out of line. It was reserved for those people in relationships, the ones who talked about their feelings and waited for the other to get home from work. “My girl” was what he had called you before and he hadn’t said it since until now.

Your whines fill the room and they show just how much you need him tonight. Nearly reaching your climax, it’s like a red alarm went off in your head—you don’t want it to end. Because when you cum–which won't be too far off in the future–John will leave and you’re left alone again, as always. So you slow down your impending high as much as you can, slowing the rock of your hips and slowing the way your body slides up and down on his cock. It was supposed to help keep your orgasm from crashing down on you, but the way you’re suddenly forced to feel every inch of him, every vein so slowly, it feels like it’s going to make you burst. The knot in your stomach grows, and you can feel your body desperate to let go and feel the wave of desire wash over you. And the way that John’s practically an expert when it comes to your body makes it hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to make you cry out for more, and he’s using that to his advantage. The way your eyes turn glossy, with not a thought behind them spurs him on and inflates his ego. He wants you to cum, he wants you to come undone on top of him, right before his eyes, knowing that it’s his cock that’s got you losing control of your own body. He couldn’t care less about his own pleasure, but with what you’re doing and how absolutely fucking beautiful you look while doing it, he’s not far behind you. He flexes and thrusts his hips back into you so hard that his skin slaps against yours. John is just as eager as you, but he’s not the one trying to hold off from cumming. He knows you want it too, if not more than he does, and every time he bucks into you, you can feel him subtly pick up his pace.

“J-John… wai–”

It’s too late, you can’t even finish your sentence before tension within you snaps and euphoria clouds your mind. And you’re still coming down from your high as John continues to fuck you, his thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy. This was his favorite—well, aside from having your lips around his cock and fucking your throat—watching you ride the waves of your orgasm; whether you were on top or underneath him, there was something angelic about the way you fluttered your eyes, trying to keep them open; and the way that he could see your cheeks turn red, even in the darkness of night with only the dim brightness from the string of lights around your room. The sinful sight of your gorgeous form above him is what sends him right over the edge and leaves him in a cloudy state of mind.

When you both catch your breath, he shifts his body backward onto the bed, and lays down. Gently, he guides you down, allowing you to lay on him for a moment, which isn’t necessarily new, but it makes you feel complete. Your head lays on his shoulder, while a hand of his travels up and down your back. The roughness of his palm and fingers send shivers down your spine, and threaten to lull you to sleep.

John brushes the hair out of your face with his fingers, wanting to get a better look at you in your peaceful state; he had to admit, though, this might be his new favorite sight. Your eyes open, and you look at him, confused. There was a soft tiredness behind them, that reminded him of a waking puppy. And god, every time you blinked with those eyes, he was willing to ruin his life a hundred different ways.

The rough pad of his thumb swipes across your cheek. Staring at your lips, he leaned forward and kissed you, catching you off guard when his tongue brushed your bottom lip and easily slipped into your mouth. It’d been so long since he kissed you like this; with such fervor, such desperation, like suddenly his life was dependent on tasting you, and your heart pounds as John kisses you eagerly, so hungrily. But as much as you’d been conjuring up scenes in your mind about what this would finally feel like, you can’t help but wonder if this is all just some cruel dream that you’ll wake up from in a matter of minutes; you can’t enjoy this, your mind refuses to let you because he’s just broken his own rule and he doesn’t seem to care.

Pulling away quickly, you climb off of him, and search for your clothes scattered all over the place, “I-I can’t do this anymore, John.”

He’s taken aback, watching you hurriedly pull a t-shirt over your head and not realizing that it’s actually inside out. John gets up, pulling his clothes on too, and follows you into the living room of your apartment. You’re grabbing his things, shoving them into his arms like you’re a teenager trying to rush a boy out of her parent’s house.

“Hang on a minute,” he says, setting his keys and wallet down on your counter. “You can’t do what?”

“This!” You shout, pointing a finger at both you and him. “Whatever fucking mess we are, I can’t do it anymore!” Clutching your hair in your fists, you pause to take a breath, “I just… I can’t…” And as quickly as the anger came, it left; and was replaced by a familiar sorrow. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t hurt every time you leave. Like I don’t lay there alone at night, wishing you would just stay.”

“And what about me, eh? You don’t think about what I’m going through?” Price is slow as he takes small steps toward you, afraid that any sudden movement will set you off and scare you away. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was angry with you, but what you hear in his voice is frustration. “You take your showers after our nights together, probably hoping to rid yourself of me, and I bet it works, doesn’t it? But everything about you is so ingrained into my mind and body that showers can’t fix that problem for me.”

Price stands directly in front of you, rubbing your shoulders as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead. Wrapping his arms around you tightly, he rests his chin on your head. It’s the first time you feel this close to him, despite all of these months spent entangled together in your bed. He just stands there, hugging you, and softly rubbing your back. Your arms inch their way around him too, and you give him a small squeeze. John’s grip around you doesn’t waver, and for the first time in months, you’re not afraid of him leaving.

“I regret this,” he says, lifting your chin up, so that you’re looking at him. “So fuckin’ much.”

The way your eyes look like you’re about to cry makes his heart ache. He can see the tears filling the brim of your eyes, and he knows how much you’re holding them in.

“I should’ve never agreed to this.” His voice is soft, nearly a whisper.

For a moment, you’re afraid that he’ll leave again and not come back so you grab onto his arm, begging him to stay. “I’m sorry, John,” your voice cracks as some of the tears finally break free and slide down your cheek. “For everything. I-I should’ve.. I should’ve fought harder for us.. I shouldn’t have let things get in the way, of what we had, I.. I ruined us.” By now, you’re choking out sobs, gasping for breath, but all you can do is lean into his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Shh, take it easy, love, don’t blame yourself,” he rubs your back soothingly, the way he once did. “I’m not faultless here. I should’ve taken more care of you, should’ve seen the signs…” He presses a kiss to your head, “I want us to date properly again, celebrate our anniversaries, and do other things in that bed of yours, like sleep for once.” You chuckle at the last bit, and he smiles; he’s always loved hearing your laugh. “Because I don’t think I can go another day like this. I don’t just want you at night, I want you all the time.” 

“A-are you sure you want this again?” You ask, wiping your cheeks, and having a hard time believing that you were having a crisis over everything you lost and yet gaining it all back in the same night. “What about the rules?”

“Fuck ‘em,” he shrugs, reassuring you that you are what he wants. “We’ll break every last one.”

a/n: i’m trying to get out of this writer’s block 😭 and i never proofread so apologies for any mistakes lol