#firefighter!john price

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2

Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you. 

“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”

“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys. 

Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.

---

Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley. 

A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You. 

Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.

“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,” Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.” 

The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap. 

Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily. 

“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon. 

Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station. 

---

In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here? 

A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny. 

“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here. 

“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could. 

“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”

Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin. 

“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”

“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”

“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”

Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone. 

When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense. 

Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.

---

“Coffee.”

Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch. 

You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”

“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading. 

“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips. 

The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

[ohworm-writes]

Thinking about Firefighter!Price.

Imagine him coming home after a long, exhausting day of working, keys jingling as he unlocks the door at some ungodly hour of the night, footsteps falling heavy against the floor as he walks inside, exhaustion and fatigue lingering along his form.

He's still dressed in his station wear - a fitted, navy blue t-shirt with Station 141's logo printed onto the front of it, small, right on the right side of his chest, and a pair of trousers in the same color to match, hanging loosely onto him.

He should take a shower, he knows he should. He smells of sweat and sulfur, the scents clinging to his clothes and skin like a second skin, and he know that the two of you'll have to wash the bedding come morning.

But god, the sight of you in bed, dressed in a loose pair of your own shorts and one of his spare shirts, face smushed against one of the pillows as your breathing comes slow, in and out, steady - it's far too enticing to pass up so easily.

So he unbuckles his belt in a daze, stripping off his shirt, undershirt and trouser, tossing the articles haphazardly onto the floor (he tries to toss them towards the hamper, but he knows he misses, given the way his belt buckle clanks loudly against the hardwood floor of the bedroom, but, honestly, he could care less).

And he gets right into bed beside you, fingers grazing lightly over the exposed skin of your thighs, traversing upwards, fingers splayed as his palm travels over the fabric of your shorts, sneaking their way under the loose shirt of his that you wear, hand pressing against your tummy as he pulls you close.

He presses his nose into your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as he deeply inhales the scent of your body wash, softly shushing you as you start to rouse, the way your body gently begins to shuffle as you let out the softest, sleepiest yawn, listening as he grumbles softly against your skin.

"Didn't mean to wake you, love. Go back to sleep."

His voice is so hoarse, so strained and rough from the events of the day - yelling and barking out commands to the firefighters within the ladder and engine crews that he guides - but, at the same time, it's runs smooth like honey, settling just right in your sleepy, hazy mind.

He hugs you tighter, pressing your back flush against his chest as he curls his body around you in a subtly protective manner, littering tender kisses against your neck, trying to coax you back to sleep as he lets out a soft sigh, infatuated with the way your body molds perfectly into his.

"Mmm... s'fine, John. Wha... what time s'it?"

"None of your business, that's what time. Go back to sleep. I'll be here in the mornin'... promise you that. Okay?"

He doesn't let you ask your questions. If you try to think, he knows you'll wake up, and he already feels guilty about waking you up in the first place, so he doesn't even entertain your sleepy question, giving you a promise - two, technically. That he's here now and that it'll stay that way until the two of you wake up in the dawn.

"Stubborn..."

"Always. We c'n talk in the mornin'. Sleep."

"Mmm... glad you're back home safe. Love you."

"Love you, too."

But by the time he says the words, you've already fallen back asleep, and a deep, rumbling chuckle erupts from within his chest, amused, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your jaw before letting himself fall asleep behind you, his breaths, his heartbeat falling into sync with your own.

[yesimilkdamilkman]

Firefighter!Price saving his future gf from a fire🫣🫣

(get in my fucking askbox now)

[soapyghost]

Sparks

Firefighter Price x Fem! Reader

I honest to god did not expect this to get the love it did?? So thank you??? I’m blown away. Also this chapters kindaaa short- and its the epitome of slow burn and I am not sorry. It will get more- angsty soon ehehe. Also I did my best to try and remember everyone who wanted to be added to the tag list and I am so sorry if I forgot anyone! Let me know if you want/ed to be added!

Warnings: hinting at a super gross manager being gross - Mostly fluff. Swearing. Character developments babyyyy

Taglist: @330bpm-whiplash @blueoorchid @deadbranch @sofasoap @c0wb0yenthusiast @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @fruitymoonbeams-blog @averyyreads @lostmypopsicle @jxvipike @moonlighting87 @amatis-gray

A week had passed since the fire in your apartment complex. It had taken a couple days before you were able to go back to your apartment to search for any belongings that may have survived. Luckily your phone somehow managed to survive the inferno, lord knows you didn’t have the money to replace it.

After about 2 days of staying at the hotel, your best friend April was generous enough to let you stay on her couch until you could get enough money scraped together for a deposit on a new place. As nice as the hotel was, you felt terrible about the possibility of racking up a bill for Price. No matter how much you begged the receptionist she would not let you pay a dime for the room, stating that John had given her strict rules to not let you.

The images you managed to squirrel away in your mind of the egnima known as John Price would not stay hidden back there. You weren’t ready for a relationship- not after your ex. And yet, you still woke up every morning in his jacket, the smell of him was vaguely noticeable underneath the overpower scent of smoke.

You had just moved out of your ex boyfriends house and into your apartment, on the opposite side of the state. Well, your ex apartment now. The idea of having to start all over brought tears to your eyes. You had been here less than a month and already things were turning into a shit show.

Today was your first day back at work after the fire, your new manager, Sheppard or Shep for short, was surprisingly kind about the situation. He completely understood and let you take some time off to get your things together. You didn’t understand why the other waitstaff disliked him so much. They always whispered about how cruel, rude and dirty Shep was.

As you rushed into the restaraunt to start your first shift back you were taken aback to see none other than John Price and the entire crew. As you made your way passed his table your eyes locked- and that perfect smile crept upon his face. His smile felt like rays of sunshine. Like a breeze on a summer day.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N” Price bellows, drawing the attention of the whole restaraunt to you. Soap looked at you and waved, “glad to see you alive lass!” You smiled weakly back at him before glancing over to the paramedic who wrapped your hand. “Hows that hand looking” he asked, nodding at your right hand which was now bandage free.

“It’s much better. Thanks” you say, holding it up breifly. You’re positive your face is about as red as the tomatoes on the omelet Soap had infront of him. Your blood runs a cold as your eyes glance over the party and see the man in the balaclava- except this time it has a skull on it.

Who the hell wears that out in public! A shiver runs through you and Price seems to notice. “So Y/N what brings you here” he says, taking your attention away from his terrifying counterpart. “Oh uhm well. I work here” you reply, ”and if I don’t get back to clock in I might not have one much longer. But I’ll be back out!” “Good. Because you haven’t been properly introduced to the 141 house” he beams, gesturing at the men at the table with him.

With that you slip through the kitchen door and back towards the lockers. You press your forehead onto them to help cool your face down so maybe it won’t give away your embarassment. Why is he here? Does he know you still have his jacket? Oh fuck.

“You alright Y/N?” Sheps voice booms, pulling you from your daze. He drops a hand on your shoulder and looks down at you with concern in his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Sorry. I just.” You sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. Did you really want to trauma dump on your boss? His hand raises to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch.

“That crew was the one who saved me from the fire” you say, turning your face away from his hand. Something flickers in his eyes, just for a second, anger? Jealousy? Rage? You’re not sure what it is but before you can place it his eyes change back to concern. “Oh. Well. What a coincidence!” He forces a chuckle and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you out on the floor in 5” he states, before turning curtly and walking out.

You blink a bit, startled by his sudden change, the rumors about him being a piece of shit seemed a lot more plausible now. Shaking your head, you open your locker and stuff your purse in it before throwing up your hair into a ponytail and heading back out to the front.

Lucky for you, the 141 were not in your section today. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances over at their table in between taking care of your own guests. When you had finally taken care of your section, you decided to venture over to be introduced to the whole “squad”.

“Hey yall didn’t have to wait for me guys” you say, noticing the empty plates.

You sauntered over, catching the Captians eye before flashing a small smile, “sorry for making you wait boys” you say, noticing they had long since finished their breakfast. “Oh luv’, you ain’t gotta apologize to these muppets” Price replies, his accent thick. “Hey who you callin’ a muppet, Cap?” Gaz questions, his eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

Price laughs and you swear that must be what heaven sounds like. “But I wanted to introduce you to everyone. That as you already know, is Gaz. Best paramedic this side o’ the town” he says, voice full of pride. “That shaggy man is Soap. Don’t ask” he quips, before you could even open your mouth. “Strange name for a strange guy” you giggle. Soap brings his hand up to his chest feigning pain, Price let’s put a small chuckle at that. “Those two are Alejandro and Rudy. They keep us well fed at the house and are pretty decent at their jobs” John says, gesturing to the two men at the other side of the table from him. Both men wave and flash you big smiles. “And this,” he says, gesturing to the terrifying man in the skull balaclava, “this is Ghost.”

Ghost simply grunts, “can we go now captian. We have shit to do” and begins to stand. “Ghost. You need to learn to relax once ‘n a while.” Price reprimands him. Before you have a chance to say anything or greet the team, Sheppard voice booms, “Y/N what are you doing? Get back to your section”. You whip your head around to see the face of your extremely angry boss.

“Shep, cut her some slack eh?” Price retorts, his face contorting into anger. What happened between the two of them? “No no he’s right” you smile weakly, trying to alleviate the obvious tension in the room. “Go Y/N” Shep says, before coming up behind you and putting his hand on your lower back and pivoting you away from the table.

“Sheppard. You don’t need to move her” Johns voice rises slightly, “she was going”. The temperature in the room was rising. “Boys it’s fine. Really. I’ll see you around yeah?” You say, voice quaking. “Of course luv” Prices says, relaxing slightly, “Cmon boys. We have shit to do back at the house.”

At this, the 141 house gathers their stuff and begins heading towards the door. Price and Sheppard exchange a death stare from across the room, causing goosebumps to form all over you. Now you had to know what happened between them.

You smile, feeling your heart slam in your chest at the thought of them leaving. Would you ever see them again? This is stupid. Just because John Price saved you from a burning building doesn’t mean he wants anything else to do with you. It’s his job. Just like it’s your job to serve them food. “Alright boys, you have a good rest of your day alright?” You say sweetly. Desperately trying to cover up how nervous you are.

The boys all give you a wave goodbye as they head out the door. John flashing you a smile before saying “it was good to see ya again, Y/N”. Now your heart feels like it’s about to smash through your ribs, he’s glad? To see you? You nearly melt as you whisper “you too John”. His eyes crinkle as his smile widens ever so slightly before heading out the door.

Seeing the boys climb into the fire truck and head out of the parking lot you felt a bit giddy. It wouldn't be the last you would see of John Price, if he knew your manager it had to mean he frequented your restaurant. A small smile crept on your face at the thought, but it was quickly wiped away by the shouting of Sheppard telling you to stop standing around.

You return to their table to help your coworker clean it up when you see it. Written on the back of the receipt in probably the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen, was a phone number and a simple message:

"Incase you ever want to return that jacket- John Price"

[lethalchiralium]

i’m so very easily convinced about firefighter!141

give me some business days fellas,,, we might have a new series

send me firefighter thoughts 🫶

[beloveds-embrace]

(firefighters!141 x chubby reader… 👁️👁️ )

A friend of yours is a fire chief for your town’s local fire station. They ask you to help the fire station do some training drills for rescue operations. Your friend says it’s because you have acting skills, but you both silently acknowledge it probably has to do with the fact that you are chubby. Not fit, not thin, not easy to carry as evident by all the partners you’ve dated before- whatever you wanna call it.

It’s alright, you are pretty used to it. If they weren’t your friend, you would have honestly refused and saved yourself the inevitable humiliation, but alas. You are used to it, you really are.

You are introduced to Captain John Price, who holds your hand so warm and snug you have to will your blush away, but there’s nothing that can help you as he lays a big hand over your lower back and leads you to the waiting firemen. Three men, though you expected far more but John- Call me John, sweetheart. Captain is just for thos muppets- explains that they’ll be doing it in groups.

You are introduced to the three firemen (a Scot, and two Brits. Johnny, Kyle and Simon respectively. Unlike the other two, though, Simon is wearing a balaclava) and by god, you almost want to say that just for today, there is a different source of water they can use-

“Lay down here, sweetheart.” John’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and with a blush, you scramble to obey. The good girl you receive in return might as well be the best thing you’ve even been told in your entire life and the heat between your legs agrees as well.

Though you are quickly reminded that this will probably not go so well, considering your size and everything and maybe you should just apologize and leave already-

Before you can think about leaving, Johnny steps forward with that smirk he’s had since the beginning and a glint of mischief in his eyes. He crouches down next to you, stretching his arms out. “Alright, lass,” he says with a wink, “don’t be shy now. Let’s see if I’m up for the challenge.”

Before you can even process it, he slides his arms under you and lifts you up effortlessly- still mindful of your “injury”. Your face goes bright red as he shifts you in his grip, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He gives a low whistle as he run around with you in his arms, a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Not too bad, eh? Thought I’d be struggling, but you’re light as a feather.” His grin widens, smug, as he watches your flustered reaction. “Didn’t expect me to be so strong, did ya, lass?”

You mumble something incoherent, trying to avoid his eyes, and he laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest. When he finally sets you down, you’re left feeling a little dazed, and before you can catch your breath, Kyle steps in and helps you lay back down.

“Alright, my turn,” he says with a gentle smile, his hands warm and careful as he reaches down to lift you. His grip is steady and secure, and he holds you with a tenderness that has your heart pounding in your chest. Unlike Johnny, Kyle doesn’t say much, but he gives you soft, reassuring smiles that somehow fluster you even more to the point where you really, really just want to bury your face in his shoulder. His arms feel solid around you, and there’s an easy confidence in the way he carries you that leaves you a little breathless.

“You doing okay, doll?” he asks, his voice low and soothing, and you nod, struggling to keep from blushing harder. He catches the faintest smile on your lips and chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he gently sets you back down.

Simon is next. He’s quiet as he approaches, his intense gaze flickering over you. Without a word, he slides his arms under you and lifts you in one smooth motion that leaves you drooling (in more ways than one). His hold is firm, and you can feel the strength in every part of his frame. If you weren’t playing the role of an injured, barely-conscious woman, you would honestly be begging to feel under his clothes.

He doesn’t say much as he carries you, but his steady breathing and the quiet intensity in his eyes speak volumes. You can barely hold his gaze; there’s something about his silent, stoic demeanor that sends your heart racing.

Finally, John steps up, and you realize you’re already blushing before he even touches you. Honestly? You doubt your face will return to normal anytime soon. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet authoritative. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you with an ease that leaves you a little lightheaded. The warmth of his embrace and the strength in his arms make you feel small and delicate in a way that you’ve never felt before. It leaves you breathless, but in a good way. John holds you close, his breath tickling your ear as he chuckles. “Not so bad, is it?”

By the end of it, your cheeks are burning, and the four of them are all sharing knowing smirks- you can even see the slightest crinkles of Simon’s eyes.

“Well, I’d say you’ve helped these muppets passthe test alright, sweetheart.” John huffs, his voice warm and full of amusement, and the others chuckle in agreement, each of them clearly enjoying your reactions far more than you anticipated. You can barely meet any of their eyes, your heart still pounding from the attention- and the teasing glances they keep exchanging make it clear that they noticed every flustered look and blushing smile.

As you’re still catching your breath, John tilts his head, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, and continues. “Well, we’ll have to call you back soon for another round, sweetheart. Can’t let the boys get rusty.” he teases, giving you a wink.

Johnny chimes in with a grin, taking your hand and kissing your palm. “Aye, can’t let you off that easy, bonnie. We’ll need plenty more practice to make sure we’ve got it down, yeah?”

Kyle nods as well, his gaze fixed on you. Never before have you had so much attention on you, and you never realized how much you quite love it. “Wouldn’t be proper training without our favorite helper.”

Simon, ever the quiet one, just gives you a small nod, but there’s a glint of promise in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

You can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth you didn’t expect filling your chest. “I’ll… I’ll look forward to it. I’m glad to be of help.” You manage, your cheeks still tingling from the attention.

As you turn to leave, maybe go and ask your friend what else they could need you for since you are such a gracious friend, John’s voice calls after you, low and steady. “Soon, sweetheart.” The words linger, making you wonder just how soon “soon” might really be.

You hope it’ll be soon enough. Very soon enough.

[aerynwrites]

Sacrifices

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader x John "Soap" MacTavish

A/N: sorry for posting a day late. Been busy with holiday things, work and school. Hope you enjoy! and if you do please consider leaving a comment or reblog! even if you just scream into the tags i really really do love reading your all's thoughts - incoherent or not haha. Word Count: 3k Warnings: Canon typical Violence, (attempted) self sacrifice, mentions of grenade based injuries, description of gore/injury, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, soft/fluff towards the end. Summary: The team is on a mission and quickly becoming overwhelmed. In the middle of a push through enemy lines, reader is the only one who notices the grenade that was thrown. She acts to save the men she loves.

The firefight has been constant it seems like, your entire group pinned down between sandbags and barricades and royally pissed off Russian soldiers. infiltration has been slow - almost nonexistent, your group moving forward only a few feet at a time, rushing from one barely there cover to the next. 

Your comms erupt with staticky calls of enemy movement before abruptly clicking off as gunfire takes its place.  Shouts from Price and Ghost trying to get air support and medical and god knows what else, just anything to help you all.

The mission has gone to shit. Gone from infiltrate and extract to a fight for your lives.

“Sunny, you with me?” 

Gaz’s voice fills your ears, your callsign pulling you from your own mind as you move to click the button to respond. 

“Repeat.”

“I see an opening,” Gaz says again, and you look over at him from where he sits several feet away from you, behind a concrete barrier matching your own. 

He gestures with his hands towards some cover a few yards up, and after a quick glance and no small calculations of your own, you think it might work.  Ghost and Soap are already there, having made the move ages ago but leaving you and Gaz unable to join them.  

If you can all get together, you might stand a chance at rushing the remaining enemies, pushing your way into the base and…

You nod.

“I’ll cover you,” Gaz says, “Then you three will cover me.”

“Got it,” you say, voice buzzing in your own ears. “As good a plan as any, at this rate.”

An all to familiar rough baritone fills your ears, and you have to fight back the smile twitching at your lips. 

“If ya quit your yapping,” Ghost says, voice firm, “You’d both be ‘ere by now.”

“On my mark…” Gaz says.

And then he’s calling out, a storm of bullets raining down as you sprint towards your team mates. the noise is deafening yet despite it all, it’s like you can hear everything. 

The beat of your heart in your chest. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

The blood rushing in your ears, the sounds of your rubber soled boots hitting the cracked concrete. 

Thump, thump

The rush of air in and out of your lungs.

Thump, thump.

The all too familiar gentle jingle of a grenade pin. 

Thump, thump,

Two more breaths. Too long, you think. 

Thump, thump.

The sound of metal clattering against concrete. 

Thump. Thump.

No one’s seen it, the rattle of gunfire too loud, their focus too drawn in by the enemy. 

Thump, Thump.

It’s close to Soap and Ghost, just behind them - too close-

“Grenade!”

Your voice is barely audible over the chaos, the sound that your heartbeat was drowning out crashing over you all at once as you throw the entirety of your body weight forward. Soap had heard you just as your fingers dig their way under the straps of his tac vest, shoving him forward and down, right on top of your startled lieutenant who sees what you’re doing much to late to change the course of events. 

“Sunny, no-!”

Soap collides with Ghost - bodies toppling onto crumbling concrete, unable to keep their feet underneath them as you fall on top of them. You wrap your arms around Soap as the grenade explodes, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you try your damndest to shield him and Ghost from it. 

It happens fast - faster than you’d ever imagined something like this happening - faster than your sprint over here. There’s a flash of light, burning heat, shouts cut off by a deafening blast as searing pain shoot through you.

Metal on your tongue.

More gunfire. 

You think your comms are going off but your head feels like its spitting open, ears ringing and you feel like your burning and freezing all at once. Teeth chattering and adding to that blasted ringing in your ears-

“-get out of there now!”

That you hear, along with the warnings of in coming air support. 

Instinctively you go to move, but pain blinds you, ripping a scream from your throat as pain shoots from your side up to your arm and down to your very toes. 

Soap is above you then, eyes panicked as he looks from you down your body then back up at Ghost.

“Lt! What the bleedin’ hell are we doin’!” He yells, fighting to be heard over the gunfire. 

You take this moment to look around, chest heaving as you struggle to breath, mind desperately searching for context. 

Ghost is up again, gun pointed over the concrete barrier as he continues to lay cover fire. You’re vaguely aware of Gaz just behind you, yelling into his comms about a man down and needing medical immediately and ‘we have to move!’

Your eyes then fall down to assess yourself, only to feel complete and utter fear pin you to the ground beneath you. Your side - the little exposed below your tac vest, your hip and your leg-

You have to look away to fight the vomit fighting its way up your throat. It’s a bloody mess - literally.nSoaps hands are covered in the viscous liquid as he put pressure on the gaping wounds, trying to stem the blood pouring from your leg.  You think you saw bone-

Black seeps in at the corners of your vision and you are only kept from the creeping darkness by a warm hand on your face as Soap’s own appears above you, and - why is it wet?

“Hey! Hey lass, none of tha’ now-” he gently taps your cheek. “Now why did you go ‘an do something right stupid like that?” He asks, trying to force that teasing lilt into his words but failing as the panic overrides it. 

Your mind is turning to mush, tongue heavy in your mouth as that coldness from earlier starts to slowly creep forward, starting at your fingers and moving ever upwards. 

“Do…do what?” You ask, fighting against chattering teeth.

Ghost turns then, speaking between breaks of gunfire as the telltale sounds of jets appear in the distance. 

“Use yourself as a fucking human shield is what!” He bellows, and even in your delirious state you can see the wrath in his eyes as he shoulders his gun once again, pointing at Soap. “Get her up, we have to move now!  Or whatever heroic bloody deed she was trying to commit will be for nothing-”

Gaz speaks now, glancing from you to Ghost.

“Lt. I don’t think she’ll-”

Ghost lunges forward then, gripping Gaz’s vest in his hands so tight you’re worried. 

“Don’t finish that sentence, Garrick,” Ghost bites. “No man left behind. Ever. Now move!”

Soap barely has time to mutter an apology before he tying something around your leg and yanking you up from the ground. 

The pain is all consuming. You think you scream but can feel it being cut off as something wet comes up on a cough. That all too familiar metal taste flooding your tongue.

It hits you then, with the taste of blood in your mouth and the tunnel vision closing in..

You’re dying. 

The world shudders around you as Soap runs full speed with your team, trying in vain to keep you as steady as possible as Ghost and Gaz lay cover fire for your retreat. 

Your head lolls backward, knocking against Johnny’s arm with every step, and you just manage to see the vapor trails of fighter jets above you, the white wispy clouds left behind giving you an odd sense of comfort in this moment. 

Johnny looks down at you as the earth shakes beneath his boots and he barely even stumbles. 

He always was the most agile of you all, Ghost the strongest - both of them protective. Even now you can feel Johnny’s arms tighten around you, can hear Ghost’s commanding shouts- although you can’t make out what he says. 

You’re too far gone for that.

Your fingers grip weakly at the various pockets and straps of Johnny’s tac vest as he starts to slow to a stop. You’re in the forest now, the towering tops of the trees creating a vast circle in your ever narrowing vision. A clearing? 

Wow...the sky is pretty too. A very faint pinkish hue dusting the sky behind the fluffy clouds. It must be approaching evening, the sun moving to sink below the horizon…

Night time…sleep sounds really good right about now. You’ve been fighting it -  the pain being your main focus, but now it’s all you want to do. Even the pain is starting to fade-

“No, no - “ another tap to your cheek and your eyes flutter open weakly. 

Johnny’s face is above you again, and you realize he’s kneeled down on the ground again, your legs outstretched in front of you as Gaz works quickly to try and do something about your injuries. 

Ghost is there too, and he’s no longer shouting, just breathing hard into his mask as he gazes down at you - that earlier anger replaced by…is that worry? Concern…fear?

“I must…” you trail off,breathing a herculean task. “I must be pretty…pretty bad if you’re scared, Simon.”

Ghost flinches at the use of his real name. It was an unspoken rule to never use it in the field. Never use it outside of you and him and Johnny together. Never use it unless if was just you three or in more intimate moments. 

Yeah. Simon is fucking terrified. Feels like his heart is about to plummet into the dirt. Feels like his whole world is crumbling down around him-

“Why did you do that?” He finally asks, voice losing its rough edge as he reaches up to wipe at something on your cheek. Probably blood. “Why?”

You smile then. Despite everything, you smile. 

“Couldn’t…” another wheezing breath in, “Couldn’t let them get…my boys.”

Soap breaks then, a broken sound ripping from his chest as he reaches up with his free hand to grip onto one of your own, bringing it up to press chapped lips to bloodied knuckles. 

You can’t feel the tears when they fall onto your skin, but you see the tracks they leave in the crimson stains. Follow them as they slide from the valley of your fingers over the back of your hand before disappearing beneath the sleeves of your uniform. 

“Don’t cry,” you whisper, before choking on another cough. 

The wind picks up now, and you can see the tree branches quiver violently. 

“Evac’s here!” Gaz calls, and you can see the hope that sparks in their eyes as the blades of the helicopter come into view. 

Soap looks down again, another kiss to you knuckles before he’s moving taking you into his arms as he stands. 

It doesn’t hurt at all this time. 

“They’re ‘ere, bonnie,” he says, voice cracking. “Gonna fix you right up-”

You don’t hear the rest.

The thrum of helicopter blades drown him out and then, just as you see a team of medics jump from the interior, darkness finally consumes you. 

At least they’re safe.

It was all worth it. Just for that.

———

Waking up is like trying to wade through knee deep snow. It takes all of your energy, and every moment feels like an eternity with little to no progress. But you keep pushing, snippets of voices and small sounds urging you forward. 

Two voices in particular. Familiar. Warm. Scared. 

“I never thought I’d be the one by your bedside.” Ghost. “A bloody idiot you are. But our idiot, so don’t,” is he crying? “Don’t you fucking die on me.”

You hear Johnny next, it’s the only other voice your brain seems to register in this thick fog of unconsciousness. Along with the feather light brush of fingers in your own.

“Still cannae believe ya did it,” you can’t find it in you to be sorry. “Please, wake up lass…please.”

You eventually do - Wake up that is. 

And what a bloody nightmare it is. Blinding lights, the deafening beeping of a monitor in your ear, people shouting but only two of them are familiar, fighting to stay in the chaotic room as Doctors rush about an shine lights in your eyes and ask you all kinds of questions and then-

It’s over. 

It’s over and you have a flimsy plastic cup of water being shoved into your hands and fingers carding through your hair and lips pressed against your temple before two sets of eyes fix on you. One chocolate brown and the other a piercing blue as they look at you expectantly.

It’s a stand off for longer than you anticipated. Neither Johnny nor Simon speaking and you trying to catch up with how fast your brain is moving. Eventually you move to speak after taking another sip of water, a few drops slipping past your lips as your hands shake slightly. 

“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Simon throws his hands up, a scoff slipping passed his masked lips, the sound muffled by the black surgical mask adorning his face. 

“Of course that’s the first bloody thing you say-”

“Well I’m not!” You argue, frustration bubbling up in your chest as the heart monitor slowly speeds up. 

Johnny tries to step in. “Lass, we dinnae expect an apology-”

Simon cuts him off.

“Speak for yourself,” he steps closer to the side of the bed, gripping the side-rail in a white knuckled grip. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Throwing yourself in front of us like that?”

You have to fight back the tears you feel burning at the back of your eyes. Anger, frustration, guilt all bubbling together in your chest in a confusing mix of emotions. 

Why is he giving you the third degree? 

“It’s not like I planned it Simon, I didn’t think-”

“You’re fucking right you didn’t think!” Simon roars, voice reverberating off the walls of the small hospital room. 

Johnny reaches out then, hand firm on Simon’s shoulder as he tries to pull him away from you. “Simon, that’s enough-!”

He shoves his hand away, turning to pin the sergeant with a fiery gaze before turning his attention back to you. 

“No Johnny,” he bites before addressing you again. “Did you know you died?” 

The words shock you, making you physically flinch back into the bed as Simons stares you down. And it’s in this suffocating silence that his statement brought on that you finally see it. The fear in his eyes. The fear that wavers just beneath the watery lash line of the eyes you’ve come to find solace in. 

You shake your head softly. 

“I…I died?”

Johnny nods, sniffling softly before swiping a hand down his face. 

“For five minutes,” He says softly, finally moving to sink into one of the chairs by your bed. 

“You died,” Simon repeats, voice having lost its angry edge. “And you could’ve stayed dead. Then you would’ve been six feet under with nothin’ but a fucking medal an’ a picture on the wall and-” he chokes. “And where would we be? Where would we be without you?”

Johnny takes your hand in his own - the familiar calloused warmth soothing to your battered mind and body. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out in measured beats as you try to digest this information. You’re only brought out of it when another hand takes your free one - this one also familiar in a slightly different way. 

It reminds you of why you did it in the first place. You love them. Both of them in their own unique way. Johnny is big and all consuming and loud and boisterous but gentile and just slightly soft around the edges when he needs to be. His hands are calloused and warm but smoother on the palms. 

Simon is…he’s somewhat opposite. He’s quiet and reserved and frankly quite intimidating on the outside. His words are few but meaningful. He’s large and imposing and can scare the living daylights out of someone when he wants but when he’s with you and Johnny…he’s different. He’s all gentle words and soft touches - as if you’re made of fine porcelain and he’s the bull in the china shop. His hands are cooler than Johnny’s but still soft in places and still just as comforting. 

“I love you,” you finally whisper, eyes peeling open to look at the men by your sides. 

“I…I can’t apologize because I love you,” you explain. “And if I had to do it all over again, I would. It was just…instinct.”

They’re both silent for a moment, your words sinking in until Simon lets out a rather uncharacteristic sniffle. He tugs down his mask, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes before bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a feather light kiss to your knuckles. 

“Yeah, well…” his voice is thick with emotion. “Leave the sacrificin’ to us in the future, okay love?”

He doesn’t say much more, never being one to talk much about how he feels, but you understand what was left unsaid. And so does Johnny, apparently voicing what your shared partner can’t.

“He’s right, lass,” he agrees, lips tugging up in the smile you’ve come to adore. “We just got somethin’ good. Too good for the likes of us. Cannae go losin’ it now.”

You send both of them a smile of your own, but it’s damped by the tears that finally spill over. Not sad ones necessarily, but tears created out of love and pure adoration for the men before you. 

The tears don’t make it far before Simon is reaching out, cradling your face in his hands, thumbs wiping them away before pulling his mask down just enough to press his lips to your own. You return the gesture, squeezing his hand when he pulls away. 

You then tug Johnny towards you, sniffling before giving him a quick kiss as well when he leans in. Then before you can move two sets of arms are wrapped around you, careful of your wounds but holding onto you fiercely. Whispered ‘I love you’s’ are murmured into your skin, fingers carding through you hair as you all finally relish in each other’s presence. 

For now you were all alive - alive and able to hold one another. 

And that would just have to be good enough. 

[gloomwitchwrites]

For Long Distance Fun - John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, mutual masturbation, gift giving, sex toys, oral sex (male & female receiving), vibrator, swearing

Word Count: 820

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Mutual Masturbation)

For Christmas, John bought the two of you a new sex toy. He wants to try it out.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

"What—" You laugh softly, and then glance up at John. "What is this?"

Inside the unwrapped gift is a pink and white box. The label is clear. There is no mistake or denial of what this is, but you’re startled by the gesture. This isn’t something you thought John was interested in.

“It’s for the both of us,” replies John. He shifts, scooting closer to you on the sofa. “Interested in trying it out?”

“Right now?” He nods. “Right here?” you continue, glancing around at your living room.

Gently taking the box from your lap, John transfers it to his.

Long Distance Relationship Sex Toy, says the box. The vibrator for the woman is called “Eve” and the male counterpart is called “Adam.”

“Why not,” shrugs John, removing the pink and white box from its packaging.

Breaking the seal, John delicately removes the toys and the instruction manual. The light on the Christmas tree sparkle against the plastic as he sets it aside.

“Thought we could use these when I’m away,” says John, opening up the user manual. “See here.” He points. “They connect to an app on our phones. We can use them simultaneously even if I’m on the other side of the world.”

John lifts the Adam toy. “I fuck this.” He then lifts the Eve toy. “And this fucks you.” He smirks. “We can play at the same time.”

“Across the world?” you ask, unbelieving.

“All I need is bluetooth and a couple bars of service, love.”

You shake your head. “You can’t take that on missions.”

John laughs. “Course not. You think I’m going to take this out during a firefight?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, teasing.

“Certainly would startle the enemy,” chuckles John. “But in all seriousness, it doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

“I don’t understand.”

John’s brow creases, and there is a mischievous hunger that wasn’t there before. “I can fuck this on my own time,” he replies, lifting the Adam toy. “Record the whole thing on the app. And then when you log in, you can have your toy vibrate along to what I recorded. Doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

With his free hand, John starts to undo the buttons on your pajama top, revealing skin. His hand slides inside, cupping one breast as his mouth presses to your throat. You groan at his touch.

“Want to have a go, love?” he murmurs against your throat.

His lips against your skin make you tingle—sending a little shiver down your back. Gently squeezing your breast, John’s hand descends to toy with the elastic of your pants.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your response breathy and wanton.

John’s hand slides under the elastic band and tugs. Shifting, he places the box on the sofa and goes down on his knees before you. With another tug, your pants are gone and John is draping your legs over his shoulder.

“Follow the instructions while I prep you, love.”

Heat instantly radiates up your neck and enflames your face. You grab your phone the moment John’s tongue touches your clit. It’s hard to concentrate as he tongues you. The words on the instruction manual are blurring together with every stroke.

“I—oh. John.” He hums against your pussy. “It’s done,” you gasp.

He draws back, lips glossy. Reaching behind him, John removes his shirt with one hand. As he stands, John shoves his pants down, the two of you falling onto the couch completely naked and entwined.

John reaches for his phone the second you take his dick in your hand. You’re aching for this, and getting to taste him for a bit is perfectly satisfying. As you throat him, John taps away at his phone. He’s hard, almost throbbing in your mouth by the time he’s drawing your head back.

“Come here,” he growls. You ascend, draping yourself over him. “Open your legs, love. Just like that.” Holding the Eve toy in his hand, he guides it to your pussy, pushing the head of the rabbit vibrator in.

“Take it,” he rasps, and you grab on to the handle. John takes up the Adam toy, easing his dick in. “Ready, love?”

You nod and John thrusts.

The rabbit vibrator moves inside you, and you cry out immediately at the shock of sensation.

“Don’t move. Stay just like that,” he groans against your cheek, hips thrusting into the toy. “Fuck. I can feel you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around the vibrator as it buzzes along with John’s movements. It’s almost too much too fast. John’s grunts aren’t helping nor is his heat. Turning your face into his chest, you cry out his name, the orgasm rising fast, extending outward until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s unending rocket fuel that’s sending you up to the stars.

“I can fucking feel you,” he says again, this time groaning loudly, indicating his own end.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[aestas---estas]

You're like the sun

MDNI 18+ | Part 2 | Part 3 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~2,3k words | fem!Reader, assistant!Reader, protective!Simon, intrusive thoughts briefly mentioned that are quickly squashed, drinking mentioned, reader is described as curvy (one mention), probable military inaccuracies | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me, I'm new to this | divider by @cafekitsune | Read on AO3

You're like the sun. Simon hates the sun. Always too bright, too warm, beaming up at him with that celestial smile, and if he stares at you for too long your face imprints at the back of his eyelids; forcing him to bask in your light even when he turns his gaze away.

You bring him tea in the mornings — knocking confidently on his office door, waiting for his gruff grunt of acknowledgement before entering, too chipper, too bright. It's Earl Grey, a dash of milk, just to his taste, and he fucking hates that it's perfect. He questioned your motives the first time it happened, and with a melodic voice you told him you're bringing Captain Price his coffee and Simon's office was just on the way. Never faltering under his scrutinising gaze, only calling out a sweet goodbye before disappearing the way you came. It takes him weeks before he realises he never told you how he likes his tea, and by that point it's too late to ask.

One week you're out; sick, some stomach bug Price told him when he asked point blank about your absence on the second day. It's not that he misses you, of course not, he had just gotten used to the daily routine. He counted on you bringing him his morning tea like he counted on the sun to climb the horizon. So if he suppresses a smile underneath his mask when, after 5 days without your bright light, you grace the doorway to his office with a steaming mug and a wide smile, that would only be because he finally didn't have to make the beverage himself.

Before you, Simon would send his paperwork to Price via an unfortunate rookie that happened to pass by his door — threatening that even a glimpse inside the folder would be answered with violence. Too comfortable in his own space to venture outside and possibly subject himself to pointless small talk with soldiers he couldn't care less about. Now, he finds himself walking the hallway between his office and Price's, placing the files on your desk without a word. That's what you're there for, he tells himself. You're the assistant, it's your job to deliver whatever paperwork that was meant for the Captain. He doesn't scold or threaten the sun when it beams down at him from high up in the sky, so why would he utter a hateful word in your direction when you flash him that blinding smile and do your job?

It takes Price 4 months until he convinces you to join him and the boys for a night out at the pub. It's not that you feel unwelcome or unwanted per se, but you know you don't belong — not like the rest of them. You're the newcomer, have never been in a firefight, never had a scar be inflicted upon you from an enemy getting too close. You read and write reports, take phone calls, pass along messages and bring caffeinated beverages. But after a particularly shitty week, a drink with some coworkers didn't sound so bad anymore.

Stepping into the crowded pub, a pretty dress accentuating your curves, you drew Simon's attention right away. Like any personification of a celestial body would, you commanded the room. But the other mens’ obvious stares ranging from salacious to malicious did nothing to deter you, your focus was on the booth in the far corner where the team was all sat. A wave and the usual radiant smile of yours was all the greeting they got before you held up a finger and backtracked to the bar to order.

“Bonnie one, ain't she?” Johnny says, elbowing Simon in the ribs, eyes never leaving your form as you lean over the bar top to make your order heard over the music. Simon doesn't answer, but something ugly snakes across his chest, tightening around his heart. Of course Johnny had set his sights on you, and you would fall to his charm like every man and woman before you. It was a small miracle you hadn't already taken a tumble or two in the hay with the sweet-talking Scotsman.

Kyle scoots down the bench once you finally make your way over, a yellow and orange drink in hand. Despite your bad week your mood is as bright as the colours of your beverage, and Simon finds himself enraptured by your stories, your laugh. Even from across the table, the toe of your heels bumping against his rough boot with every shuffle of your legs, he can feel your warmth; it washes over him, makes the palms of his hands damp where they grip his beer glass tensely.

You fit in almost seamlessly with the squad. You talk in depth about some book with Price, you joke with Kyle, you flirt with Johnny. Had Simon been a better man, he would've offered you his seat so you could be closer to the Scottish Sergeant. But he's not a better man — he wants to be able to stare at you from across the booth, wants to observe your glow without distractions or interruptions. He's selfish, depraved, rude, a brute to put it simply.

So when Johnny offers to walk you home with a grin on his face, Simon fixes him with a steely glare and crosses his arms over his chest. “You're not fucking the secretary, MacTavish.”

Johnny sputters some half-assed defence, but eventually shrinks back down in his seat. You stumble as you get out of the booth, feet tripping over themselves, and Simon's arm snakes around your waist to steady you.

“‘M not a secretary,” you slur out, swaying slightly as he pushes open the door to the pub and leads you outside. The night air is crisp, cool, yet your body is warm where it rests heavily against Simon's side. “‘M a personal assistant.” You sound so proud over the title too that it almost makes him chuckle; almost. 

“You answer calls and deliver mail,” he replies, downplaying your role like the right bastard that he is.

You huff in annoyance and displeasure, obviously deterred by his dismissal. He can't be sure, but for a second he senses a glimpse of hurt in your eyes. Why would you care what he thinks of your position? Didn't you get along with Johnny all night? Or maybe you're mad that he cockblocked you. Yes, that must be it. You're not sad that he doesn't truly understand your value, you're not annoyed that he dismissed your pride, you're angry because he wouldn't let Johnny walk you home and tuck you in tight.

The two block walk to your apartment building from the pub is done in silence. Simon has his arm around you the whole way, making sure you don't stumble and fall flat on your face.

“Thank you,” you say as you lean against the door to your flat, fumbling with your purse to try and find the key. “For walking me here. You didn't have to.”

“No, I didn't,” he answers at length, because really, there was no reason for him to stay by your side the entire walk home. He could've called you a cab, he could've left you by the foyer instead of ushering you into the elevator and asking ‘what floor’, he could've stayed put inside the pub. He could've done a hundred and one things instead of making sure you got inside your flat safe and sound with his own two eyes.

A sound of victory expels from your lips as you fish your key out of the mess that is your purse and hold it up for him to see, a big, drunken grin on your face.

When you stumble into your hallway, Simon thinks he must've lost his mind — you didn't close the door. Didn't you know that was dangerous? Didn't you know he was?

“Careful,” he mutters out as you nearly tumble over and hit your head at the corner of a table when reaching down to unsnap the buckles of your shoes. The lock clicks in place behind him.

He takes care of you that night; argues with you to brush your teeth and remove any makeup you had put on, makes sure you drink at least two glasses of water and take a painkiller before ushering you off to bed. He sleeps on the couch and it occurs to him how horrifyingly simple it would be to snuff out your light. He could walk away, leave your door unlocked for any degenerate to enter, or he could be personal about it; press a pillow over your face as you sleep, hold your throat in his hands with enough force to snap, maybe even steal a kitchen knife from the wooden block so primly placed near the stove.

It's a terrifying thought, one he forces out of his mind as soon as it enters. The sun doesn't deserve to implode just because he sometimes finds its brightness debilitating, and neither do you.

Nothing changes after that night, yet everything does at the same time. You still bring Simon his tea every morning, now with an accompanying crumpet or biscuit, he still hand delivers his paperwork to your desk, but now he stays for a minute to chat. He makes a simple typo once, misspells his own rank at the beginning of the report, just to get a few extra moments of your warmth as you stop by his office to point it out — but not to worry, you have already fixed it, you reassure with a smile.

You bake cupcakes a few weeks later, two for each of them, decorated with a light pink frosting that matches the shade of your top so perfectly Simon suspects you must have done it on purpose. You make Price call everyone into his office for a quick celebration; it's your birthday, and Kyle and Johnny both offer to throw a proper party, but you shake your head and tell them you already have plans to celebrate that weekend. To Simon's surprise they both back off, neither of them making a big fuss about not being invited. He dreams of pale pink sunsets that night.

The incessant ringing of his phone wakes him up, pulling him from a fitful sleep in the middle of the night. Too tired for formalities, he simply grumbles out a ‘what?’ into the receiver, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Loud, drunken chatter, drowned out by the thumping bass of whatever club music that was playing in the background, met his ears for a few seconds before your voice broke through.

“Hey, baby.” Baby. The nickname feels like a cold shower, making all his synapses fire, his attention at high-alert.

“What's going on?” He asks, already pulling on his jeans and searching for his keys. You don't sound like yourself, something is off and it makes a ball of anxiety furl tight in his gut.

“Can you come pick me up?” You ask in lieu of a proper answer, rambling off the address of whatever club you had found yourself at.

He's outside the club within minutes, probably breaking a handful of traffic laws, but none of that matters as he spots you — arms wrapped tight around yourself, slightly shaking from the cold night air, some sleeze talking you up despite your closed-off body language.

“Oi!” He calls, drawing both your and the sleeze's attention.

“You serious?” The sleeze mutters, distaste clear on his face as he eyes Simon up and down.

“Simon!” You fling yourself in his arms, a wide smile pulling at your lips as you press yourself against his solid form. You're cold to the touch, goosebumps littering your bare arms, and he drapes his jacket over you before he even realises what he’s doing.

“This him then?” Sleeze asks. “The boyfriend?”

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p as you look back at him, still keeping yourself flush against Simon.

That explains the nickname then. You were trying to get rid of this jerk, and the only thing that works on people like him is telling them you're unavailable.

“Let's go, love,” Simon mumbles against the top of your head, just loud enough for the other man to hear. 

“Thank you,” you say once he's got you in the car, fingers nervously playing with the hem of the skirt of the dress you're wearing. It's another cute number that hugs you in all the right places, just like the one you wore that night in the pub. “I'm sorry I called. I'm… I'm sorry I said you were my boyfriend.”

“Don't worry ‘bout it,” Simon answers at length. He doesn't care that you had disturbed his sleep, he doesn't care that you had lied to a stranger about your relationship, he doesn't care that his jacket will undoubtedly smell like you once he gets it back — all he cares about is that you were safe, that despite the alcohol in your system you had enough wits about you to call him.

You kiss him on his cheek when he drops you off at your building, smiling softly before disappearing with a quick ‘see you on Monday.’ He doesn't realise until he's halfway back that he never asked for the jacket back.

It's nearing your one year anniversary as Price’s personal assistant. You make the team cupcakes again, vanilla frosting this time. Everything is just as it was day one, yet nothing is the same. Because now Simon walks you to your car at the end of every day, because now he follows you home after the pub whenever you accompany the team on one of their outings, because now he calls you ‘love’, because now you hold his hand and kiss his cheek, because now when he compares you to the sun it's because you're all encompassing, life giving, eternal. Without your warmth, your light, your love, his world would be cold and cruel and lonely. You're like the sun. Simon can't live without you.

--- Masterlist

[thelaisydazy]

We find out it’s everyone’s favorite puppy’s birthday and bake a dog friendly cake for the best baby

and some cookies for the 141 too I guess

mostly for everyone’s favorite firefighting puppy

The goodest boy NEEDS HIS CAKE

----

It was well after closing and you were still at the bakery. You’d heard through Johnny that it was Riley’s birthday today and you wanted to drop off something for the pup. Luckily, your boss was more than happy to let you use the bakery to prepare a little doggy cake and a tray of cookies. 

Covered in flour and icing made from greek yogurt and peanut butter, you admired your work. You weren’t exactly skilled at cake decorating, but even you had to admit the little cake looked cute. It was simple, just some nice icing swirls. The cookies were even simpler, just a batch of plain sugar cookies.

You loaded everything into boxes and balanced them in your arms as you locked the door. You spare a look at the gray sky, you had to hurry up and drop everything off before it started to rain.

It wasn’t easy, but after a while you finally managed to reach the station house. Using the heel of your shoe, you knock on the side door. 

It’s Kyle that greets you, that beautiful smile on his face. “Hello luv,” he says warmly before his eyes flicker to the boxes in your arms. Without asking he reaches to lift them from your arms. “What’re you doing here?”

“Johnny mentioned it was Riley’s birthday,” you say smiling back at him as he takes the boxes. “I wanted to drop off some goodies. There’s a dog-safe cake for Riley and some sugar cookies for the rest of you.”

“Gaz!” You hear Johnny call from further inside. “Is Simon back wi’ Riley?” He rounds the corner, spotting you with a wide grin. “Bonnie!”

“Our sweet thing came to drop off cake and cookies,” Kyle said, shuffling back as Johnny came running up. “I was about to invite them in.”

“Oh, no I don’t wanna impose,” you said. “Besides, I should head home before the rain starts.”

Almost on cue, the sky opened up, dumping buckets of water outside. 

“Or maybe I could stick around..”

“That’s th’ spirit!” Johnny laughed. “C’mon, we’re get’n set upstairs.” 

You follow Kyle and Johnny upstairs, greeting Price and Gary with a smile. Price was standing at the base of a ladder, cigar between his lips as he held the ladder steady for Gary, who was at the top hanging some blue and yellow streamers. “What have we got here?” Price asks, looking you over. 

“Cake for Riley,” Kyle answers, placing the boxes down  on a counter. 

“An’ cookies!” Johnny piped in, opening the cookie box and swiping one for himself. Kyle shooed him away before he could take any more. 

A few moments later, the door opens and Simon comes trudging in, Riley in tow. They’re both soaked, but they perk up as soon as they see you. Riley’s leash slips from Simon’s hand as the dog runs for the cookie in Johnny’s hand.

You grab a dish towel from the kitchen and walk up to Simon, tossing it over his wet hair. “You got rained on,” you giggle. He hums in response, bending so you can dry his hair more easily, just happy to be standing near you.

[ohworm-writes]

Task Force 141 but instead of being in the military or the SAS they all work at a firehouse together and it's called Station 141. Send tweet.

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD Men ? - AU civilian

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, König, Rudy, Alex, Nikolai

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written, mid or if they're OOC)

SOAP as a firefighter : 

-"911, how can I assist you today?"

-"I think there's been a break-in at my place!"

-"Could you describe the intruder, ma'am?"

-"It's... a turkey."

-"A turkey?"

-"Yeah, one of those gobbling birds! My neighbors use a live one for their Thanksgiving, and it somehow busted loose. It barged into my place through the door, gave me a real fright. I dashed into my bathroom, but it went all 'Rambo' on my door, and now it's busted. My handle is broken, I'm stuck in here!"

-"Don't worry, help is on the way."

-And that's when you met Soap. There he was, showing up at your doorstep in full firefighter gear.

-"Hey there ?" he greeted, axe in hand, ready to face off against the rogue turkey.

-You weren’t kidding, he thought.

-He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the havoc that bird had wreaked in your place.

-Your poor sofa was toast, and your table was in pieces. Slowly, he made his way to the damaged door.

-"Hey there, Ah’m a firefighter. I’m here tae break down the door. Please step back."

-"Oh thanks ! I was starting to think I'd be spending the night bawling in my bathtub."

-He chuckled.

-"Wouldnae want a lovely person like yerself spendin’ Thanksgiving solo."

-"Thanks," you replied.

-"I'll get started," Soap said as he began dismantling the door.

-"Here, it looks like the turkey's gone," he reported.

-But when he turned to you, he noticed something amiss.

- Normally, people were relieved to see him, not scared out of their wits.

-His gaze shifted back, and that's when he saw it—the monstrous turkey, ready to pounce.

-Without a second thought, he scooped you up, effortlessly carrying you despite whatever size or weight you were, and bolted past the bird.

-"Why's that thing so fast?" he exclaimed.

-"They're practically dinosaurs, I swear!" you cried from the safety of his arms.

-You both made it to the street. Soap dialed up a wildlife specialist to handle the feathery menace.

-"Ah’l swearin’ off turkey forever," he vowed.

-"I think finding a new place to live might be a good idea," you whispered, still trying to calm your nerves.

-"Aye, yer neighbors are some real characters for pullin’ a stunt like this."

-"Thanks again for this. I mean, I'm sure you've got more pressing cases."

-"No’ really. Usually, it's just family squabbles. Last time, Ah had a grandma tryin’ tae kill her son wi’ mashed potatoes," he joked.

-"Grandma can get wild," you chuckled.

-"Ye have no idea. Name's John, by the way. Sorry for forgettin’ ma manners."

-"Hey, a wild turkey trying to take me out can do that to a person," you quipped. "I'm Y/n," you added.

-He grinned.

-“I owe you big time, Soap," you said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Guess this Thanksgiving, I'll be giving thanks for firefighters and sturdy bathtubs."

-Soap gave you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's all in a day's work. Plus, -it's not every day I get to play hero to a person in distress... from a turkey."

-After the turkey trouble was sorted, Soap bid his farewell. Little did he know, two days later, your new neighbor would be attempting to cook aluminum in his microwave. Maybe this time he'd find a moment to ask for your number.

-------

GHOST as a chef : 

-The poor waitress had asked you twice if you wanted to order by the time your date arrived. But it was painfully obvious. 

-You had been stood up.

 -You tried to ignore the looks, the sensation of your clothes feeling too tight, too constricting. You felt like a clown.

-Staring at your phone, you sent messages, hoping for excuses like traffic or an important matter.

-Maybe he had a flat tire, or perhaps his boss demanded he stay late. Yet, two hours later, you were still there, feeling like a fool.

-That's when the message came: "Oh, I was just joking, you're not my type, you know."

-Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the humiliation wash over you.

-How could someone flirt for two months just as a joke? He messaged you every night; how were you supposed to know it was all a farce?

-Biting your lip, you stood up.

-At this hour, you hoped there were still buses running.

-You couldn't afford an Uber. Yet, as you gathered your things, the waitress approached.

-"Excuse me, but your food will arrive."

-"I... I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't afford anything here, and my date stood me up. He was supposed to pay, and..." you rambled, feeling ashamed, but she led you back to your seat.

-You felt even more ashamed. This place was so luxurious.

-"I really can't afford it, madam," you whispered.

-"It's on the house. The chef offered it," she said gently.

-"Oh."

-You didn't know if you felt grateful or not. It felt like pity, but food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was still a luxury, so you ate. It was unbelievably good. You felt so thankful to the chef.

-"I... could I thank him?" you asked after finishing your dinner.

-"He doesn't speak to clients. That's why he opened his own restaurant — so he could remain unseen by his patrons and not be obligated to accept their thanks, As he says “I Ghost clients”" the waitress explained.

-"I see. His dishes are so precise, it's impressive."

-"Yeah, he's good with a knife."

-"Well, thanks again for offering me this. It was a crappy night, but at least I ended up in heaven," you said.

-She smiled, and you left.

-But you felt indebted to him. Dishes like that cost a lot.

- Even if you didn't doubt he could afford it, you felt like you had to do something in return.

-So the next night, you baked cookies.

-You felt ridiculous with your small Tupperware and homemade cookies.

-They'd probably taste awful to him, you thought, but you wanted to repay him.

-"Hi, I... wanted to give this to Ghost? He offered me dishes last time, and I wanted to thank him. I understand if you say no. I mean, it could have poison in it, but..." you rambled to the waiter.

-"No need, we'll take it," the waiter with a mohawk said with a smile.

-You felt like he knew something you didn't. As you were about to leave, a tall, blond man walked over, holding a cookie.

-"Thanks," he said with a gruff voice behind his mask.

-Shit. Ghost was... this man?

-This mountain of muscles made those beautiful dishes? Those meticulous details came from his hands? You were impressed.

-"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure.

-"Best cookies I've tasted."

-"I know you're lying."

-"Second," he admitted. "My ma's were better."

-You chuckled.

-"I can give you the recipe. I mean, you really saved me last night. It was so... humiliating."

-"It's not. The only one who should feel ashamed is the bloke who stood you up, love."

-"You're right, but still."

-"Come back again, Friday. With the recipe."

-"I can send it by email."

-"I want you to taste a new dish."

-"Oh."

-"Having someone honest is nice. It's a change from all the compliments."

-"Okay," you agreed.

-Little did you know, Simon would always find new dishes to make you come back.

-Of course, he could ask his sous-chefs or waiters to taste, but seeing your smile or frown after a taste was so much better.

-(I need a long fic about Simon being a chef, like this AU has so much potential, plus in kitchen you have “brigade” which could be like 141)

GAZ as a primary school teacher : 

-You were on your usual delivery route, this time dropping off packages at the primary school.

-As you made your way through the corridors, you spotted Gaz, the primary teacher, who greeted you with a smile.

-"I was waiting for you," Gaz said cheerfully.

-"Oh, am I right on time?" you responded, glancing at your phone in confusion.

-"Yes, but the kids are eager," Gaz explained.

-You furrowed your eyebrows. Eager for what? Seeing a delivery person? Or perhaps the contents of your package were something special, like paintings or other intriguing items?

-"I see," you said, still puzzled.

-"Follow me," Gaz instructed, leading you into his classroom before you could protest.

-As you entered, you were met with the curious gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.

-It dawned on you as you glanced at a piece of paper – Gaz had mistaken you for the guest speaker, an athlete scheduled to address the students.

-"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," you whispered to Gaz, but before you could say more, a child wrapped their arms around you.

-"I'm so glad you're here!" the child exclaimed, melting your resolve. How could you shatter their excitement?

-You couldn’t bear to crush their excitement. Besides, it was clear that the athlete wasn’t going to show up; it was already 10 AM, and they were supposed to be there by 8AM according to the schedule on the board.

-And so, you found yourself spinning tales to answer their questions, pretending to be the athlete they expected. 

-“Um, hey there ! Being an athlete is pretty cool, you know” you improvised, trying to sound convincing.

-“How does it feel to do sports all day ?” one curious kid asked

-“Well it’s tough but you know riding horse is fun”

-“I thought you were running”

-“RUNNING ! Of course, horse is just a hobby” you blurted out

-Despite your fibs, the kids beamed with admiration, hanging onto your every word.

-After a couple of hours, Gaz approached you with a knowing smile.

-"You're not the athlete, are you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

-"How did you figure it out?" you replied sheepishly.

-"When you mentioned unicorns helping your coach – that was a dead giveaway," Gaz chuckled. "But I appreciate you playing along."

-"I couldn’t bear to disappoint the kids. Kids' dreams are important," you admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.

-"Yeah, they are," Gaz agreed. "Thanks for going along with it."

-"It was more fun than my usual deliveries, anyway," you admitted with a grin.

-“Wait, your boss won’t be mad ?! I mean two hours, sorry you must be so late, no ?”he said worried

-“Don’t worry you were my last”

-As you prepared to leave, Gaz introduced himself properly.

-"Thanks against or helping out. And by the way 'm Kyle, but the kids call me Gaz – it's easier for them," he explained.

-"It was nice meeting you, Gaz," you said sincerely, touched by his kindness towards the children.

-As you left the school, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment. And to your surprise, when you made your next delivery, there was Gaz, offering to lend a hand. 

-"Thought you might need some help this time," he said with a wink.

-Maybe it was repayment for your earlier assistance, or perhaps the kids had teased him about having a crush on you – either way, you were grateful for his company.

PRICE as an uni history teacher :

-It was about 10 PM, and there you were, sprinting in high heels, your wig dangling precariously.

-"Oh, for the love of all that’s good," you muttered under your breath.

-The situation was straightforward, yet utterly absurd.

- You, a university teacher, found yourself at a costume party with a Bridgerton theme.

- After hastily getting ready at your friend’s place, it dawned on you that you had forgotten your house key.

-Sure, crashing at your friend's was an option, but you had a furry friend waiting at home who needed your attention.

-So, off you went, driving back to the only place your keys could be: the teacher's offices at the university.

- Picture this: you, clad in an 18th-century outfit, a fake wig teetering on your head, and a petticoat swishing around, all the while cursing your luck and hoping no students would spot you.

-Finally, you reached the office, finding it deserted. You located your keys and—

-"Quite the accurate ensemble, I must say."

-You froze, turning to find a man with a rather impressive beard. "Um, I can explain?"

-"Are you a student?" he asked.

-"No need to butter me up; I know I don't exactly look like one," you confessed.

-He chuckled. "Sorry, I was just trying to give you an out. You know, student parties and whatnot."

-"Thanks, but yeah, I'm the… new teacher. Guess we haven't crossed paths yet. Been here about a month," you said, extending your hand.

-"Well, isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he remarked.

-"How so?"

-"I’m John Price," he revealed.

-Your eyes widened. Oh, crap. You just met THE history teacher of the campus dressed as a Bridgerton character. What were the odds?

-He laughed. "Nice to meet my new colleague. Heard quite a bit about your work."

-"Likewise, and… sorry about the attire," you apologized.

-"No need. It suits you. Makes me feel like a proper gentleman seeing someone dressed like that," he said with a grin.

-You chuckled nervously. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Price."

-Little did you know, your next class for the first year was a shared one with him. Dodging him might not be as simple as you thought.

NIKOLAI as a F1 pilot :

-Your friend's desperate plea over the phone stirred something in you.

-"Alright, I'll come help with the shoot," you conceded, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension.

-As you arrived at the location, taking in the serene surroundings, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the bustling crew.

-Your specialty lay in capturing the untamed beauty of animals—dogs, cats, and the like.

-This commercial setup felt like a far cry from your usual stomping grounds.

-Engaging in conversation with the staff about the artistic direction, you couldn't help but notice the artificiality of the setting, with fake plants and trees surrounding you.

-Nevertheless, you settled in, adjusting lights and preparing for the task at hand.

-"The model is here," an assistant announced, drawing your attention to the center of the room where a man stood, completely naked.

-"Why is he naked?" you whispered in disbelief, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks.

-"It's for the charity event, featuring naked pilots for calendars," the staff explained casually, oblivious to your discomfort.

-Stunned, you turned to your friend, silently questioning her decision to involve you in this unconventional endeavor.

-"I photograph nature and animals, not... naked humans!" you protested, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

-"Well, technically, you photograph a big snake," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.

-You rolled your eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Ugh, don't even mention his...thing, please."

-"I don't mind being called an anaconda," the man interjected with a smirk, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart race.

-Caught off guard by his boldness, you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity.

- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about these... circumstances," you stammered, struggling to maintain composure.

-"I understand. If we need to reschedule, no problem, Солнышко ," he reassured, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

-"What did you just say?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of fluster in your tone.

-"Sorry, I meant no problem to reschedule, sunshine," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

-"But you're... a star?" you questioned, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

-"I'm a well-known F1 pilot, yes. But I'm closer to retirement than those young ones. I doubt people would buy the calendar for me," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

-"I'd certainly buy it for you," your friend chimed in, breaking the tension with a playful grin.

-He laughed, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. "And you?"

-"I... maybe? Okay, we'll do it, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm more accustomed to animals, so..." you trailed off, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of working closely with him.

-"Let's get started," he suggested, his smile softening the edges of the room and easing your nerves.

-And so, the shoot commenced, with Nikolai proving to be a surprisingly adept model, effortlessly charming everyone with his wit and charisma.

- As you directed him through the poses, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between you, a magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

-"Thanks for today. Need a ride?" he offered, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

-"No, I came in my car," you replied, torn between the desire to stay and the need to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

-"The red one?" a staff member inquired, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you.

-"Yeah, why?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the thought of your car.

-"Sorry, mate, your car got impounded," they informed you, their words puncturing the bubble of tension that had enveloped you.

-You sighed, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. "So, a ride?" Nikolai offered, his gaze softening with concern.

-"Yeah, I guess. What a crappy day," you muttered, cursing your luck.

-"Don't say that, it was great," he insisted, his voice gentle and reassuring.

-You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him for his unexpected kindness. In his car, as he drove you away from the chaos of the shoot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that was only amplified by his soothing presence.

-"Not what you were expecting, huh?" he remarked, his tone playful yet sincere.

-"Well, I wasn't expecting a race car drive, but yeah," you chuckled, feeling the tension between you slowly dissipating.

-"I drive safely. Sometimes you need low adrenaline," he explained, his words resonating with you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

-"Thanks again for the ride," you said, turning to him with a smile that felt more genuine than any you had worn all day.

-"No problem. I mean, you've seen me naked, so..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

-"Yeah, sure," you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the playful banter.

-"If you want, you can still come to one of my races," he offered, his gaze lingering on you with a hopefulness that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

-"I'll think about it," you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips as you contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead.

ALEX as a lawyer :

-You couldn't believe your eyes.

-A client was after you for a cup of tea—yes, you heard that right, a freaking tea!

-The same tea you accidentally spilled during a chaotic rush, and she tripped you with her feet, claiming you scalded her with hot tea. The kicker?

-You knew it was iced tea.

- But it was your word against hers, and she had a squadron of lawyers ready to pounce, while you were broke. It was pretty clear how this would end.

-You sighed, resorting to searching for lawyers online, but all you found were scams.

-One promised to chase after dead people, another claimed you'd make thousands just by being pretty, and the rest boasted about defending infamous criminals with laughably bad Photoshopped images.

-Feeling desperate, you reluctantly agreed when your mom mentioned your cousin knew someone who knew someone. You certainly didn't expect a model-lawyer showing up at your doorstep with a bright smile and legal expertise.

-"Hi, I'm Alex," he offered his hand.

-"Hi, I guess you know about my... case?" you replied.

-"Yes, there's a high chance of her winning since similar cases have ruled in favor of people like her. Remember the McDonald's hot coffee incident?" he explained.

-"So I'm screwed?" you muttered.

-"Not necessarily. I can prove she's acting out of self-interest."

-"...before you say anything, you know, I can't... afford it?" you interjected.

-"Yes. I... I used to be a prominent lawyer. Perhaps you've heard of the Shepherd case?" he mentioned.

-"The CEO who got off the hook despite everyone knowing he committed tax fraud?" you recalled.

-"Yes, I was his lawyer," he admitted.

-"Oh," you murmured, taken aback.

-"I... I'm not proud of the people I've defended. I didn't realize the harm I was causing to victims. For me, everyone deserved representation, but when I saw what Shepherd did with his ill-gotten gains... I couldn't continue down that path. I signed up to advocate for people. Not evil," he confessed.

-"So you took on lost causes like me?" you mused.

-"You could say that," he smiled.

-"Well, it sounds like Daredevil. Maybe I'll catch you wearing a latex suit at night while fighting crime," you joked.

-"You might be onto something there," he replied, his expression serious.

-"Wait, you're joking?" you asked, but he didn't crack a smile.

-"Mr. Keller, you're joking, right?" you pressed, but he just smirked.

-"Let's focus on your case," he redirected.

-"You can't just dodge my question. I need to know—" 

-"Boxing. I box at night, nothing illegal. I train kids, and I've competed in the past," he confessed.

-"I see. Why do I find that hard to believe?" you teased.

-"I'm a damn good liar. I'm a lawyer," he retorted.

-"Fair point," you chuckled.”well at least I believe in the latex suit at night”

-“Kinky”he joked, you smiled.

-Alex got down to business, helping you devise a strategy.

-Maybe with this super lawyer on your side, you stood a chance. Yet, you couldn't shake the curiosity about his secrets. Who knows what uncovering them might bring?

KÖNIG as a baker :

-König had just opened his bakery.

- Eager to be neighborly, he sent some cookies to the local shops nearby.

- However, when his customers arrived one day, one of them expressed hesitation: "You know, I was hesitant to buy here because I heard you made the florist down the street sick."

-König couldn't believe his ears.

- Ashamed, he double-checked his ingredients, but everything seemed fine.

-So, he decided to switch things up and bake some croissants instead.

-Yet, the next day brought news that the florist had fallen ill due to food poisoning.

-Determined to make amends, König sent something different the following day.

-And the pattern repeated itself. After a week of this, he finally decided to confront the florist.

-Entering their cute shop, he whispered nervously, "Hallo."

-"Hi," you replied.

-"I'm König, the—"

-"The baker," you interrupted.

-He froze.

-Well, he certainly hadn't made a good impression.

-After seven incidents, he couldn't expect a warm reception, but he hoped you’d understand he hadn't done it intentionally. He wasn't a villain.

-"I'm sorry about the pastries," he began, "I swear I don't know what went wrong. Other shops ate them and had no issues. I—"

-"I know you're not trying to poison me," you interjected.

-"Oh, but... then why?" he asked.

-"I thought someone would have told you, maybe Horangi, the chef at the restaurant. But I'm lactose intolerant. I assumed you knew, so I ate your pastries thinking someone had informed you. Then, I realized that wasn't the case. But if I didn't eat your gift, you might have thought I was upset with you, so I still ate them, and—"

-"It was a misunderstanding," König finished their sentence.

-"Two anxious people overthinking things, but yeah," you admitted, laughing.

-"I promise to bake you something lactose-free," he vowed.

-"Thanks, it'll be appreciated. Your pastries were good, just not for my digestive system," you replied.

-He nodded and returned to his bakery, pondering the idea of introducing gluten and lactose-free versions of his pastries. Surely not because of the cute florist who seemed to visit more often now. Nah.

RUDY as a librarian :

-You were a young journalist, eager to dive into investigative reporting, but your editor relegated you to the local sports section since you were the new kid on the block.

- It wasn't exactly your passion, but you made the best of it. Your current assignment: write about Rodolfo Parra, a former boxer.

-Avoiding the internet due to its unreliable nature, especially for local stories, you opted for the library.

- As you searched for information on Parra, a man approached.

-"Need a hand?" he offered.

-You glanced at his badge, confirming his name as Rudy.

-"Yeah, I'm digging up info on the boxer Rodolfo Parra. I heard his early days were at the local club, so I figured the archives might have something," you explained.

-Rudy smiled. "Rodolfo Parra, huh?"

-"Yeah, you know him?"

-"You could say that, but I've heard he's not too keen on journalists."

-"Exactly why I couldn't land an interview," you sighed.

-"But why write about him? He retired two years ago," Rudy questioned.

-"My boss wants it, so here I am," you replied with a hint of resignation.

-"I've got some info, but can I trust you?" Rudy hesitated.

-"Absolutely, I'll respect his privacy. I just want to know his story, his struggles. I've heard rumors about a fixed fight where a coach, El Sinombre, forced him to lose," you shared.

-Rudy's expression darkened. "It was more than that. I'm surprised you know about it."

-"I've delved into El Sinombre's dealings before. I wanted to write for investigative reporting," you confessed. "I found it odd that a sports club had ties to a pharmacy."

-"They developed stimulants to win fights, and more... potent substances," Rudy revealed.

-"So Rodolfo lost to a doped-up opponent?" you concluded.

-"Yeah. Rumor has it, El Sinombre threatened his family if he didn't comply. Rodolfo vowed never to lose, so El Sinombre took matters into his own hands..." Rudy trailed off.

-"And Rodolfo ended up paralyzed," you finished solemnly.

-"Yeah, but with rehab, he's probably walking now. But he can't fight anymore," Rudy confirmed.

-"Having your dreams crushed like that must be devastating. A fighter silenced," you mused.

-"Maybe it was for the best," Rudy countered.

-"You think so?" you questioned.

-"Boxing isn't a lifelong career. Maybe retiring was a blessing," he reasoned.

-"I don't know, having your dreams shattered like that... it must take a toll. Imagine if someone burned down your library," you countered.

-"Well, this library was my backup dream, so I'd just have to find another," he quipped.

-You nodded, then realization dawned. "Your backup dream?"

-"Yeah," Rudy admitted. "Rudy for Rodolfo. Not the smartest move for a future investigative journalist, huh?"

-"Hey! You—yeah, I was naïve, but you could've given me a heads-up," you teased back.

-"Now, tell me about your boss. Things might be more complicated than we thought," Rudy suggested.

-"Do you think El Sinombre is after you?" you pondered.

-"We'll find out," he replied cryptically.

-Maybe your beat would evolve over time...

If you want more : my masterlist

I still need to write Alejandro, Lasswell and Farah, maybe in a next part with other characters :) !

[yesimilkdamilkman]

I see the asks im working on them trust💪🏾💪🏾

[soapyghost]

Flicker

Firefighter Price x Fem! Reader

Hi hi! I know it's been a HOT minute since I have uploaded the story but my life has literally been insane. And i've been sick like constantly. Plz send help. Warnings: swearing, violence, obsessive behavior, we are developinggggg. Mutual pining??? Also brownie points to whomever can guess who will be introduced next chapter! WC: 1.5K Taglist: @330bpm-whiplash @blueoorchid @deadbranch @sofasoap @c0wb0yenthusiast @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @fruitymoonbeams-blog @averyyreads @lostmypopsicle @jxvipike @moonlighting87 @amatis-gray @nfg-miimochii @bangirl134 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @elliestark13

The receipt burned a hole in your back pocket all shift. Every time you thought about it your entire face blushed crimson. The super hot firefighter who saved you from a burning building, while you were half naked, just wrote his number. For you. You felt like a school girl all over again, butterflies in your stomach and sweaty palms. When your shift finally ended it took everything in your power not to rush to the backroom and whip out the paper.

When you finally made it back to your locker and retrieved your phone you immediately input Price's number under "John *emoji*". What were you going to say? "Hey sorry I've basically stolen your jacket for the last week?" You groan out loud and rest your head back on the lockers. Your fingers hovered over the phone, dancing around the screen trying desperately to come up with something that doesn't make you sound desperate.

The loud slam of the backroom door jolted you out of your daydream and caused you to nearly jump out of your shoes. Your eyes flicked to the hallway door as you waited to see if whoever was that pissed was coming your way. Sure as shit, the heavy footsteps were coming your way and within seconds Shepherd's bulky frame was in the doorway.

"What the fuck was that Y/N?" he boomed, you had never seen such anger from him before. "I-i I'm not sure what you're-" you stuttered, "Acting like that in MY restaurant?!" He interrupted. The tone of his voice was nothing like the Shepherd you'd been so used to. "Sir?" you squeak, not sure how to handle this situation. You really hadn't done anything that you could think of.

And then it hit you, "You mean talking to the 141?" you questioned, finally meeting his eyes, which where black. His pupils were blown with pure anger. "Are you stupid?" he roared, "You left the rest of your tables to go and flirt with that group of degenerates!"

Degenerates? The 141? What in the world had happened between Shepard and the 141 that makes him hate them so? And flirt? "Sir, I wasn't flirting. I was just thanking them for saving me." you replied, still shocked at the sudden change in your manager. So this was the Shepherd everyone had warned you about.

Your brain finally snapped into flight mode. Your eyes snapped down to your phone which still had the text screen open to John, you closed your eyes and silently you thanked those stupid typing tests that you took in school where they covered the keyboard and began to type "help" from memory. You hit where you thought was the send key and prayed to whatever higher being was out there that it went out.

"Saved you? You think that disgusting group of nobodies SAVED you?" he barked. "Oh no no sweetheart, I saved you" Shepherd said, several octaves lower than he had been previously talking. "I gave you a job here when nobody else would" he began, "I let you take time off after that little fire in your apartment" he began getting closer to you effectively cutting off your only exit.

What was he talking about? Saved you? Your mind was spinning and you couldn't think straight. "It should be me you should be thanking" he growled, lowering his face to be inches away from yours. His breath fanned against your face, hot and foul. "Sheppard what are you doing?" you squeak trying desperately to find some way to get out of this situation.

But he didn't hear you, "But no, you go and thank that sorry excuse for a Captain. John" He spat out John's name like it was a curse. "Your entire existence in this town was thanks to me!" he yelled, slamming his fist into the locker next to your head. The thud of the metal caused you to jump.

"Shepherd please I didn't do anything" you pleaded with him, hoping this would calm him for just enough time for John to get here and save you. You heard the backroom slam open and the thudding of heavy feet running your way. Shepherd heard it too because he whipped around just in time to see John Price burst through the locker room.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing Shepherd?" he roared, launching himself at Shepherd and shoving him harshly to the ground. He then stepped around him so that he was standing between you and the man on the ground. Shepherd groaned, clearly in pain "what the fuck are you doing here?" "What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing?" he snapped.

But before he let Shepherd respond he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the lockers. He shoved his keys into your hand before looking into your eyes and whispering, "go. get in my car" before letting your hand go. He didn't need to tell you twice and you bolted to the front of the restaurant and out to the parking lot. You looked down at the keys in your hand, Chevy.

Your eyes scanned the parking lot before landing on the dark grey Chevrolet pickup truck parked haphazardly in 3 different parking spaces. Without thinking you click the unlock on the keys and throw yourself into the passenger side. You made sure to lock the doors 6 times over, not knowing who or what might come out of the restaurant.

You could feel your heart in your throat as you looked at the double doors waiting and hoping John would come out ok. The door swung open and there he was, cradling his right hand but, alive. He rounded to the drivers side door and pulled on the handle. The door didn't budge and it took you a second to realize you hadn't unlocked it for him yet. You shakily pushed the button and a soft click sound ran through the cabin of the truck before he opened the door and hopped in.

"You came" you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. Price's blue eyes met yours as he pulled you in for a hug, "always" he whispered back. You stayed there for a minute, just basking in the warmth and safety of his arms. You tried desperately not to cry as you pulled away slowly. You glance down to his right hand and see his knuckles are bloody.

"John your hand!" you gasp, grabbing it in your own. You hear John chuckle, "been through worse, luv." You look up at him again to see him smiling down at you. "Can I have my keys so I can take you home?" he asked, gesturing at his keys which were still in your hand. "Oh" you murmur, before handing them over to him so he can start the truck, but his hand never left yours.

"Are you alright?" he asked once the two of you were out of the restaurants parking lot. The question smashed the dam of tears you had been holding back, and they began to spill down your cheeks. "H-He was s-so mad at me" you whimpered. You clamped your eyes shut to hopefully avoid anymore tears from flowing. "I'm so sorry luv. He won't ever hurt you again" Prices voice was firm.

The rest of the drive back to your friends house was fairly quiet. It was mostly you giving John directions. When you arrived, you begged John to let you take a look at his hand before he left. "Oh alright, but you stay there." he groaned, but he was smiling. He turned off the car and hopped out. You sat there a bit confused before you realized he was coming around to open the door for you.

You began to open the door, but Price shut it. "I said stay there" he said through the door. You laughed and held up your hands in mock defeat. Price opened the door and offered his hand to help you down from the truck, pulling a giggle from you. "Such a gentlemen" you quip.

You lead John up to your friends place begging silently that she wouldn't be there. You unlocked the door and yelled, "Hello? April?" But the house was silent. You let out a sigh of relief. "Wait here let me grab some bandages" you told John before heading over to the bathroom. "This is really unnecessary Y/N" he replied.

When you returned with the bandages you motioned for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. You grabbed his hand and grabbed Neosporin. "I don't need all that" he complained, "I been through a lot worse with a lot less." You shot him a look to which he sighed and let you continue your work. Once you were finished he flexed his hand a few times, "good as new" he beamed, "thanks Y/N"

"It should be me thanking you John. What happened back there?" you ask, only slightly afraid of the answer. "Doesn't matter. All that does is that you're safe and you won't have to go back there" he stated. "John I have to!" you exclaim. How were you going to make money? "I don't have another job" you cried, feeling the tears well up again. "Oh luv no" John whispered, grabbing your face in his hands using his thumb to wipe away the stray tear that had fallen. "I think I know just the person to help you out" he smiled.

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

John Price x auto mechanic reader: John races you to the car, cus there’s a flat tire and you each think you can do it faster. If you win, he gets all huffy and insists on holding a flashlight or umbrella (for rain or sun)

John Price x firefighter reader: You nearly die while rescuing someone from a burning house. John gets angry and shouts at you for risking your life, and you go, “really? You? of all people? How dare you lecture me about me risking my life, when you do the exact same thing?!” (He’s just terrified of losing you)

John Price x assassin reader: you’ve been hired to take out Captain John Price, a man you have a storied history with. You have a gun aimed at his chest, but he acts completely unafraid. He slowly approaches you, “is this really what you want, love?” For the rest of the night, he has you pinned beneath him, as he shows you exactly why you should let him live.

[beloveds-embrace]

masterpost

Hi! You can call me Noona! I write whatever comes to my mind and atm, I am very much obsessed with CoD and Genshin/Capitano. I am very much open to hearing ideas and just yapping in general, but I also can’t promise that I will write every request.

What I don’t write: fully explicit smut, suicide

Masterlist has not been updated fully. Use the tag noona.writes to see everything I’ve written!

Masterlist:

Baker!Reader x 141 + part 2

Sick!Reader x 141

Omega!Reader x Alpha!Price

Bite kink with Soap

Yandere Capitano + part two

Matchmaker buns + part two

Bundad Simon

Firefighters!141 x reader

CoD Expiration date concept

Magic Mike 141 x stage manager!reader

Monster!141 x chubby reader + part two

harpy Gaz x wingless reader concept

Lavender Marriage au + part two

Abused reader x poly 141 + part two

Omega 141 x Alpha reader

moose Konig

reaction to a dark romance reader

Haunted house moans

rugby player simon x ballerina reader

divorced but obsessed simon x reader

Ghoap angst concept

simon x family traditions

Horrible konig concept

john price x single mom reader

simon and a certain someone grieving your loss

john catches you making out with one of his men

from simon's girl to his missus

johnny's supportive nature

you came/you called

omegaverse 141 x unusual reader concept

spoiling them when they return from missions

false accusations concept

going to them for safety + guard dogs

lipstick testing

Big eater simon riley

Dukedom 141 Masterlist

Roommate au masterlist

Until the Last Loop

ANONS:

👾 anon

💜 anon

🐥 anon

🧸💗 anon

✨ anon

Strawberry week share-anon

🐸 anon

🎓 anon

💎 anon

🦚 anon

🦋 anon

🦈 anon

🍒 anon

🪭 anon

👽 anon