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random0lover · 2 years ago

Text

This.

This whole fic is what I need want from a man.

Like literally to a T.

Is that to much to ask 😩

…

I need John Price is what I need *sad sigh* why can’t he exist 😭

No because this man would heal my daddy issues. Taking care of reader like he does? Making sure they eats, drinks water, knows what they need when she’s emotionally distressed? Man is so fucking perfect I’m going to cry because what’s the odds of me finding love like that…

No one else but you

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Summary: You and Price broke up months ago after a bad fight and you're still reeling from it. You're utterly heartbroken, but with the less that great wisdom of your friends, you decided to try and jump into another relationship to solve the hurt - one that was bad from the beginning. Will Price showing back up in your life get you out of it? Or will you be left with no one at all.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Angst with a happy ending, fluff, cheating boyfriend (not price), Smut (no mention of reader genitals), soft dom!Price, nickname Daddy used, pinning down, dirty talk, praise

-💘-

Realistically you knew that you’d see John Price again one day, you just hated that it had to be that day. That day that you were on a date with your new boyfriend. The day after you’d just made things official. Pretty much right after you'd just gotten on at said boyfriend for distracting himself with his phone the whole time. Now you were the one that was distracted.

You and Reid hadn’t been dating long, just barely a month and half. You’d asked the night before about where he saw things going and then somewhere along the way in that conversation he asked if you brought it up because you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Then you supposed that’s why you did ask, and said yes, and he’d agreed to it.

Of course you’d felt kind of happy about it at the time, but now - after locking eyes with your ex, who offered you a crinkly eyed smile before turning to the barista - you felt like there was a pit in your stomach. It was as if your belly was made of lead. Had you made the right decision?

“Hello, are you listening to me?” Reid laughed, waving his hand in front of your face. “Weekend plans. Next weekend. Selena’s cabin. Need a yes or a no. She’s messaging me about it and you were the one that just ranted to me about how I wasn’t paying attention to you.”

“Hmm? Sorry, what?” you asked, resuming eye contact with your boyfriend. “Where’s the cabin again? Who’s Selena?”

It was so unfair, you thought to yourself. Why was Price here now? You’d figured after being deployed he’d be away for a long time, but slowly you came to realise that it had been ages since you’d seen him. 3 months in fact.

And now he was there in the cafe, standing in line for a tea you presumed, looking as handsome as ever. His beard had been allowed to grow, he’d probably not had time to trim it, it was longer and even in length. His eyes looked weary and his hair was messy, probably from running his hands through it too much, you thought, and you bit your lip as you noticed he was wearing that shirt you liked. The worn green linen button up, with a pristine white T-shirt underneath of course.

“Do you know that man or something?”

You jumped when Reid pulled you out of your daze yet again, and suddenly all the bluebirds and butterflies were out of your field of vision. You’re opened up to the reality of the coffee shop, all the whirring and buzzing machines and emphatic chatter of all the tables around you. It was as if a spell had been broken.

You gulped awkwardly and shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Sorry, yeah…that’s my ex,” you explain with a sigh.

Even then, even while you were with someone else, you still hurt over the way things had been left. That should’ve been a bad sign, one that meant you weren’t supposed to be moving on so soon, but whenever you talked to anyone about it they just said you needed to move on and ‘shag it out your system’ - whatever that meant. John didn’t feel like the kind of man that anyone could just forget about, even when it was you that broke things off in the first place.

“Wait, the soldier guy? The one that you said beat a guy up outside that bar?” Reid marvelled, fastening his eyes to Price’s place in the queue.

“Yeah, him,” you murmured, forgetting that you’d told him about that.

“He doesn’t look like I thought he would,” Reid snorted, watching him wait for his drink. “He’s like an old guy, looks pretty harmless to me.”

You held back the protest that had come to the tip of your tongue like a hot pepper. It wouldn’t do to tell your new man that he’d get flattened by the captain if he got on his bad side - that would be asking for an argument. Instead you bit your lip and watched as Price made his way toward you both, takeaway cup in hand. You were begging whatever deity might be watching over that he wouldn’t linger long.

Though by the looks of things, he’d had a hard time trying to forget about you too. There was something in his eyes, something like relief, that made you feel he was glad to have bumped into you.

He eventually came to a stop next to your table, standing close to your side. You could smell the piney aroma of his aftershave as it rolled off of him - sprayed on to help cover the lingering scent of cigar smoke. It combined with the smell of bitter coffee and sweet cakes and left you dazedly staring at him.

“Hello, there,” he said simply

You gulped, instantly feeling your mouth go dry. What were you supposed to say back? Hello, how are you? No, you had so many other things rushing through your mind you didn’t think to respond with something normal.

Did you think about me while you were away? Did you miss me? Did you finally realise you were wrong to hurt that man so badly just because he’d pushed up against me and called me names when he thought he was supposed to get served at the bar before me? Do you think things could’ve been different afterwards? Could we have talked more and worked it out? I missed you so much, please take me away from here.

“Um…hi,” you said sheepishly, offering him a small smile. “How’ve you been? Did you just get back from deployment?”

“Yeah, just got back on wednesday there. You know how it is when I’m away. Spend the whole time worrying about everyone till we’re back home safe, don’t I?”

He’d tilted his head at you meaningfully, letting you know that he wasn’t just talking about his men. So, you thought, you struggled just as much as me.

“What about you, how’ve you been? And who’s your friend?” he asked, turning his attention toward Reid.

Price narrowed his gaze on your boyfriend and offered his hand, shoulders rolling as he did so. You didn’t miss the way he’d said friend. Apparently Reid didn’t either. Reid took Price’s hand all too willingly and firmly shook it, making eye contact so direct you wondered if he was trying to shoot lasers out of his eyes.

“Yeah, good,” you responded, watching as their handshake carried on a little too long. “This is Reid.”

“The boyfriend,” Reid added, finally snatching his hand back.

Price raised his brows and glanced at you. You could swear that you’d noticed his jaw tick, but nevertheless he smiled and patted your shoulder, his hand warm on you, even through your thick jumper.

“John Price - the ex,” he said to Reid, before turning back to you.“Good to know you’ve had someone looking after ya.”

his lips were quirking as if he’d had to force the words out.

“He uh- has been yes,” you said appeasingly, side-eyeing Reid as he frowned at you. “Someone’s got to!”

You’d laughed awkwardly, tittering away while hoping the interaction would end. Though there was no chance of Price going that easy. He stayed and nodded his head slowly, his eyes narrowing on you as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. Was he thinking of all the times that he’d been the one to look after you?

“Did you get yourself a tea then?” you asked, trying to end the awkward silence and - hopefully - send him on his way, you could ask him to go drink it in peace.

He looked down at it as if he’d forgotten the scalding cup in his hand and back at you, raising the cup just slightly.

“Know me well, love, don’t you?”

Your body all but seized as he resurrected one of his old pet names. You used to preen when he called you love. Now you were choking on your spit - actually genuinely choking.

You wheezed and gasped, quickly taking a drink of your latte to try and ease collapse of your windpipe. It might have settled if not for the fact that he started rubbing your back. That only made the problem worse. You struggled to take in the closeness of him, the warmth, how firm his hand was as he settled it over your spine.

You brushed past him and got up, offering both him and Reid an apologetic smile.

“Don’t know what’s…come over me,” you gasped, trying to find enough air to talk. “I’m just going to go to the toilet quickly!”

And before another word could be said, you rushed off to try and find some peace, desperately trying to avoid all the hustling bustling people around you. This was not good.

-💘-

While you were away, Reid and Price both stared each other down. Left to their own devices they could both drop any pretence they’d kept up while you were around, not that Reid was making much of an effort to try and appear friendly. Though now he was openly glaring at Price, letting him know that he wasn’t welcome. Trying valiantly to scare him away.

Price, meanwhile, was casting a wary eye over this new boyfriend, looking him up and down and not missing the woman’s name on his phone screen. He wasn’t the type of man to deny that men and women could be friends, but something about the way Reid had been messaging whoever it was so intently, rubbed him the wrong way. He looked from the screen and back to Reid, causing the other man to scowl.

“What was that?” Reid all but growled.

“What was what?” Price asked, raising a brow.

“Calling them love and rubbing their back like that! You said it yourself - you’re the ex. Act like it and back off!”

“Ex or not, I want you to know something. I might not be in the picture right now, but I’ll tell you this - you hurt them…and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Reid frowned, about to laugh off his threat when Price gave his rival the same look that he’d used in interrogations- the one that showed that he wasn’t above getting dirty if the situation called for it. It was then that Reid recalled what you’d told him about the fight, about how Price had almost permanently maimed the guy, he had remembered you saying that the man had had his jaw wired shut just to recover from what Price had done to him.

Reid didn’t visibly back down, but he didn’t retort back either. He pursed his lips instead and watched as you bounced back to the table in the background, relieved that you’d recovered sooner rather than later.

-💘-

“Everything ok?” you chirped, sitting back down in your chair.

“Yeah, course,” Price smiled, his eyes turning to those familiar crescent moons that you adored. “What about you? Survived, have you?”

You played with your hands and laughed awkwardly, remembering to swallow before you choked again.

“Yeah, still kicking somehow.”

“Well that’s good to hear. Listen, its been lovely to see you, but I’ll let you two get back to it, I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome. Just so you know though, if you ever need anything,” Price said, his blue eyes melting into honey, “just give me a ring.”

With that, he winked at you and left, not waiting for your response.

You huffed out a breath, only just realising that it had felt like your lungs had been fit to burst pretty much that entire time and looked over at Reid. He looked like he was going to combust. All the light that had been on his face earlier in the day had died and he looked sulkily down at his phone, angrily tapping a message into it.

“Oh my god, Reid, I’m so sorry about that,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you finally realised what had just happened. “He can be really intense, and I didn’t realise he was going to come barging up to us like that! Anyway,why don’t we get things back on track, what were you saying about going away to a cabin?”

It was Reid’s turn again to blank you now. He continued to type a message to whoever he was talking to and left you in silence, listening to his thumb angrily jamming down on the glass. You tried again and he still didn’t respond, and soon it began to feel like every tap on the screen was a hammer in the nail of your coffin.

-💘-

You had thought you’d resolved that argument that night.

You had spent the whole rest of the outing shuttered out from any conversation with him, only to spend hours when you’d gotten home locked in a bitter fight. He’d said you could’ve backed him up a bit more and made him look less like a fool, and you’d agreed and tried to tell him that you were so overwhelmed you weren’t sure how to react, though you knew you could’ve tried to have handled it better. You just weren’t sure what you would’ve been able to do differently.

There had been some back and fourth for a while, but eventually it was settled when you’d said you’d block him and delete him off of everything and that was the end of that. Or so you had so naively believed.

You’d gone along to the cabin on the Friday of the following weekend and soon it was revealed to you that that hadn’t been the end of things at all.

Everything had started off fine, it had been nice even. You’d all gotten camping chairs and had sat round a big fire drinking and getting to know all of Reid’s friends and were enjoying yourself immensely. However as the night wore on and Reid had gotten drunker and drunker - Price had eventually come up. That’s when everything did a complete 180.

Someone, for some godforsaken reason, had brought up awkward ex stories and Reid jumped at the chance to tell everyone about the coffee shop encounter. He spared no detail in making Price sound like a disgusting lecherous old man, and laughed as he told everyone about how he’d been threatened. A detail he’d forgotten to tell you when you’d had your discussion.

“You didn’t tell me about that,” you’d protested weakly, putting your hand on his thigh. “You should’ve said something. That’s not right that he threatened you.”

He shook his leg from your grip and laughed bitterly, taking another swig of his vodka. Suddenly the taste of the spirit was acrid in your throat and the smoke from the fire was stifling you. The evening was going downhill fast.

You turned around and took a glance at his friends, they were all laughing about it, apparently finding it hilarious that an old man had threatened Reid. Everyone was in hysterics apart from one of the girls, the girl who’s cabin it was. She didn’t appear to be hearing any new information, she was just smiling like a cheshire cat and opening another cocktail can.

“Didn’t take it seriously then, did I?” Reid shrugged, looking around at all the laughing faces with glee. “What’s he gonna do? Knock me over with his walking stick? That guy was like a hundred years old.”

You wanted to say that it was funny he didn’t say that to Price’s face, but immediately thought better of it. Instead you just tried to laugh it off and hope the subject changed, but ultimately it didn’t. Instead you became the group target when one of his friends had sniggered and asked if Reid wasn’t too young for you. Must be hard keeping up with someone your own age instead of someone that falls asleep when you get on top, and apparently it was the funniest jokes in the world to everyone but you.

For the whole rest of the trip his friends had kept bringing up your supposed penchant for gross old men and had kept the joke going. They brought up pictures of old actors and asked if you’d ‘smash them’ and when one of the men from a neighbouring cabin had walked by, of course an older man walking his even older doddering greyhound, they’d told Reid to hold you back before you ran off with him.

It wasn’t fair, you’d thought. Price wasn’t actually that much older than you. Sure, there was a little bit of an age gap, the lines on his face were a little deeper than other people his age and there was a bit of grey creeping into his hair, but he spent most of his time fighting and commanding big groups of soldiers. It would age anyone quickly!

However, as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, Selena (Cabin owner and supposedly happily committed friend of Reid’s) had come up to Reid on the second night while you were supposed to go away to get something to drink. Somehow, between you going away and hastily coming back to ask what he wanted instead of the drink you were out of, she’d wandered onto his lap. You stood by the patio door, no longer noticing the chill in the air and instead honed in on the fact that she was stroking a hand through his hair and murmuring to him softly and sickly sweet.

“I like your hair like this,” she’d said, her voice sultry and low. “Why’d you never style it like this when we were together.”

“Oh yeah?” Reid responded, gripping her hand in his. “I guess I hadn’t figured out how to do it yet.”

You bit your lip, not feeling like you could say anything yet, knowing that you’d only be made to look like a jealous hypocrite if you protested at an ex getting a little too close. They hadn’t actually done anything yet, you told yourself, they were just sitting together on the old deck chair. He looked like he was about to take her hand off of his head. She was barely even touching him to start with really!

Until she was.

She leaned in and sloppily kissed him, her drunken body swaying as she fought to keep her balance on top of his wobbly legs. Bile rose in your throat as you watched them together and suddenly the entire weight of the weekend was upon you. The jeering of his friends, Reid refusing to stop them making fun of you and telling you to grow up, and finally watching them both locked in a kiss that Reid was in no way trying to get away from.

You blubbered out a pathetic cry and ran to your room, grabbing your things in a blind panic and barely checking that you had everything, only really worrying about your car keys. You ensured that you had them clasped tightly in your hands, stabbing yourself with the rigid metal, and rushed to your car. You hastily threw your bag into the back and slammed the door loudly. You’d gone to open the drivers door when Reid came bounding up behind you, shouting after you and having the audacity to look angry.

You watched him rush over in a panic, and leapt into the car seat, making extra sure to lock the door as you got in. You’d done it just in time too. Just as the click of the lock had sounded, Reid angrily pounded on the window and screamed at you, telling you not to overreact and get out the car.

“I’m not overreacting, I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive, you’ve been drinking,” he growled.

“I’ve been drinking lime sodas,” you screamed back, turning the engine over as you angrily jerked the keys. “And I saw you kiss her back! If you think I’m gonna let that go then you’re dead wrong! This is over.”

“Oh, come on! I didn’t do that, you’re making things up. Just come out the car and talk to me for a minute!”

You glared at him and put your foot on the clutch, revving the car as you waited for him to get out of your way. He stood resolute and threw his arms in the sky, looking ready to rip you out of the car with his bare hands.

“If your stupid army man came over and did the same you’d probably kiss him back too!”

That did it.

You reversed the car in a flash and turned round, uncaring if you bashed into anything. As long as you didn’t run over Reid (as much as you kind of wanted to), you were happy to do anything just to get out of the drive. You turned the car successfully, even managing to leave dent free and barrelled your way down the road. Wiping furiously at your tears so that you could see your way down the unlit country roads.

-💘-

When you finally got back to your town, you weren’t able to go home right away. You didn’t have the strength to drive on. You’d been hounded with text messages and calls and the sounds of vibrations and sight of angry words had put you too on edge. You couldn’t go on.

Instead, you’d stopped in the Tesco Extra car park and rammed on your break, sitting in a relatively abandoned section near the back. You hastily turned off your phone and threw it in the back seat before draping your arms over the steering wheel, then crying into them like something out of a cheesy movie.

It wasn’t fair.

You’d just wanted to have a nice weekend away and instead you’d spent the entire time being the butt of a dumb joke and had been cheated on to boot. It felt like nothing in your life could go right.

Every one of your friends had encouraged you to get with Reid, had told you things would be much better with someone that would actually be home and not off in some random country video calling you from miles away; and at that moment you wanted to facetime each and everyone one of them and show them exactly where that advice had gotten you.

Look at my big ugly crying face and feel awful, you stupid idiots!

Even when you were mid breakdown in your car you still knew that that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t their faults he was a cheat. Instead you just kept weeping quietly to yourself and letting the hot tears roll down your face like acid, stinging at your irritated skin. It felt good to get it all out and soon you were running out of anything to cry with anyway.Your big snuffly sobs were turning into quiet breaths and eventually no sound left you as you stared ahead into nothing, the neon shop lights blurring in the corners of your eyes.

Your calm didn’t last for long though. A knock came at your window and you jumped out of your skin, bolting upright and looking at the glass with panic. At first you thought Reid had somehow found a way to follow you home, but it turned out to be worse than you’d first assumed. It wasn’t your now ex, it was the ex before him - Price.

You took a moment to catch your breath and furiously rubbed at your eyes, hoping that he hadn’t noticed what you’d been doing all hunched over in the dark. However, your motions had completely betrayed you and before you could think to roll down your window, he was coming over to the passenger side of the car and tapping on the glass again and motioning to the lock.

He wanted to get in. For crying out loud, what was this day?

You groaned, but knew there was no use denying him and weakly pulled up the lock, wincing as he wrenched open the old door and shut it with a bang.

“What happened? Are you ok?” He asked, gripping your arm with a reassuring squeeze. “Are you hurt?”

He looked ready to follow through with his supposed murder threat when he’d asked the last question. You swallowed thickly and scanned his face, noticing that he looked less tired than when you’d last seen him, he was more focused as he glared.

He had shaved the mutton chops back into his beard, but he was still wearing the old green shirt that you loved, it looked like it had been washed many times since you’d seen it. It was fraying even more than it had been.

“No, I’m ok,” you finally responded, your voice going croaky. “I just- I just had a bad weekend is all. I’d rather not talk about it. I’ll be fine once I get myself home and then I can sort myself out from there.”

“You’re in no state to get yourself home, not like this,” Price admonished, easily sliding his palm against your face. It felt cool to the touch, it soothed your burning cheek. “Did you come here to get something? Do you want me to go in for you while you wait here? Then we can figure out how to get you home.”

He made sure you were making eye contact, he was speaking in that low familiar tone he used to use with you. The one that used to send your heart sparkling like a firework fuse ready to blow. You could already feel the beginnings of a sparkler fire, there was something fizzling away and making your heartbeat flutter and skip.

“No! No, I didn’t come to get anything, I just needed to stop for a minute. You don’t have to do any of that, honestly I’d feel awful for you if you had to go trailing after me,” you laughed, trying to brush off how heartbroken you were. “Please John, don’t put yourself out all for-”

“Nonsense. Wait here and I’ll be back in a second.”

“John!” you protested, watching as he slid out of the car.

“I mean it,” he said sternly, giving you a serious look. “You move from this spot and I’ll be cross, love. Sit tight.”

There was no arguing with him. It was as if he’d tapped into some deep seeded programming and reactivated it as if he’d never left. Ill be cross love. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him.

You relaxed back in your chair and watched curiously, still rubbing your eyes of the drying salt, tracking Price as he ran over a little ways to his car and brought a bag out of it. He surveyed the car park, visibility peering around, watching for any cars that might cross his path and came back to you before very long. Efficient as always.

He drew to a stop in front of the driver's side and opened the door, beckoning you out. You frowned and crossed your arms, ready to put up a fight at him wanting to drive your car. For one thing, he hated driving it and would always come off the clutch too hard - a problem you weren’t even sure why you were worrying about at a time like that - and for another you weren’t sure you were in the right state to let him be your caretaker at that moment. You were so vulnerable and you didn’t want to hurt yourself further by being around the one man that held the key to making or breaking you.

“Are you really going to fight me on this?” He asked, tilting his head down at you.

His forehead creased and he stared at you intently, willing you out with whatever mind powers he seemed to possess. That’s how it felt like with him sometimes. He had such a knack for getting what he wanted out of you, and to be truthful it was often better that way. He knew best.

Apart from when he started that fight.

You shivered and shook the thought from your mind, taking one last look at his unbudging frame. It was useless arguing with him. He was right anyway. You were in no state to get yourself home, you were bleary eyed and weak, you’d probably end up running a red light and ramming into another car knowing your luck. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, you thought darkly, you could only take so much more.

However, you soon gave in. You went to unbuckle your seatbelt and finally realised in all your upset you hadn’t even done it up in the first place, so you awkwardly drew your hand back, looking up to see Price’s ‘I told you you weren’t fit to drive’ look. Your face flushed then and it felt like you’d touched the sun.

You recovered eventually, then sighed and stood out from the seat, winding your way round to the passenger side and settling in. He joined you in the car after that, sitting in your driver's seat and rattling the car with his extra weight. From there he settled his shopping bag on his lap and pulled out a can of coke from its box and handed it to you.

From the small peak you’d gotten he had clearly meant for the juice to be a mixer for whatever crappy whiskey he’d gotten for himself, but there was little chance of him giving you any of that while you were in the state you were in. He had a rule about you drinking when you were upset. He was already shoving the bag in the back of the car by the time you’d even amusedly thought about asking about it.

“There. You sit there a moment and drink that and I’ll get you home.”

“You don’t have to give me your shopping, John. You’re going out of your way enough as it is. You’re already leaving your car behind!” You said, motioning to his old Honda. “How will you get home after? You’re putting yourself out too much!”

“It’s just a can of juice, love. I reckon I’ll be good for it,” he snorted, finally starting up the car again. “And don’t you worry about me. Just focus on calming down and feeling better.”

It was comical watching him get used to your car again, almost enough to make you forget about the hell you’d driven away from. Price swore under his breath and grumbled as he worked his foot against the ‘stupid overly high clutch’ and ‘stiff bloody gearshift’, but he managed to get it out of the car park. Soon you were leaving the blurry red and blue lights of the shop in the distance.

You said nothing for the duration of the drive. Instead you sat obediently and drank your coke, barely thinking of anything at all as the familiar sights of the city passed you by. The McDonald’s drive through, the old ratty furniture and charity shops that littered the streets before your own, and of course the pet store you always liked to visit. The one that Price always used to suck a breath in at (he always worried you’d come home with something one day).

Meanwhile the coke bubbles fizzed and washed over your tongue, tickling at your dry throat. Admittedly it did help you to feel a little better as time went on. That with the added distraction of watching Price focusing intently on not stalling your car almost let you forget all about the shitty couple of days you’d just endured.

Finally you rolled to a stop in a parking spot just a few steps away from your doorway and the rumbling growls of your car died. The fuzz of the silence burned at your ears and eventually it was too much, you clicked your tongue and turned to Price awkwardly offering him a half smile. You were about to brush him off with a thank you, but you were beaten to breaking the quiet streak before you could even open your mouth.

“Are you going to tell me what he did?” He asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You pursed your lips and played with the empty can in your hands, causing the aluminium to squeal as you squeezed it. You didn’t want to get into it all with him. You weren’t convinced you could make it through the story without crying again, and the last thing you needed was to go blubbering into his arms when you were trying to maintain some distance. Afterall, you reasoned that it was hardly his job to pick you up from an Ill advised rebound relationship. Plus he was the very reason you’d jumped into it in the first place.

“Who said Reid did anything?” You murmured, digging your nails into the white logo of the can.

“Captain’s intuition,” Price murmured, turning fully to you now. “You can tell me, You know. I don’t want you holding yourself up in that flat and crying alone for the rest of the night. It’d play on mind and neither of us would get any rest.”

“Don’t do that,” you moaned.

“Don’t do what?”

“Make me feel guilty for wanting to sort myself out.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, I want you to feel better. And I know you won’t help yourself if I leave you alone right now.”

“I’m not a child,” you huffed, feeling your heart beginning to ache all over. “I can look after myself.”

Your chest was feeling heavy and all of a sudden you were overcome by dread. It felt like he was trying to reprise his old role again, but that’s not something he could just step right into. He couldn’t just pick up where he’d left off, you reasoned, there was hurt there and so many things left unsaid. If things went wrong he could leave you even more broken than you’d ever been before. You pictured yourself shattered like a china cup that had been dropped too many times.

“You can look after yourself, can you?” Price asked, raising his brows. “Tell me right now that you’ll go and get yourself to bed and not end up worrying all night and having a panic attack at work tomorrow, and I’ll go. Tell me how you’re going to look after yourself and I’ll leave you to it, go on.”

You withered under his gaze and folded your arms in on yourself, trying to apply pressure over your shaking torso. He was right of course. You’d envisioned in your head even before the car had stopped, shutting the door, shutting out the world and feeling the weight of it all avalanche over you. He knew you too well to think you’d take any other course of action, right down to the fact that you weren’t going to take any time off work. Which would ultimately lead to you crying in the bathroom like a schoolgirl.

“John,” you whispered, “you can’t- we can’t-“

“This isn’t about us. It’s about you, and you needing someone to be there for you. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to invade my way into your life, I just don’t want you to spend all night torturing yourself over whatever happened…just let me help you. That’s all I’m asking… It’s all I want.”

He spoke so calmly and so softly you couldn't help but melt against his will. He was making too much sense. You didn’t really have the energy to argue either, so you just nodded and got out of the car, trying desperately not to start crying again. The thought of Price still caring so much about you was pulling you under into another tidal wave of upset, and you were fighting against the rough surf just to try and make it to your door.

Price led the way, bulleting up the steps just the way he always used to. He still had your keys,so he unlocked the door and held it open while he put his hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you through. You could feel the thin glue that was holding you together being peeled away. His reassuring smile and his steady presence were making it harder and harder to hold your face as it was.

You could feel your lips go wobbly and your eyes welling up again and before you knew it you were throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing into them, rattling against him with your accompanying shaky hiccups. You weren’t even sure what you were crying about now.

Sure, you were still upset about the weekend you’d just endured, but now you were also thinking about Price and all that you’d lost when you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore. You’d told him that that fight had ruined what you’d built, and had destroyed your trust and now more than ever you knew that that wasn’t true.

It felt like John was the only person you could trust. He knew exactly what you needed and seemed to be there for you at all the right times, he looked after you and loved you and would do anything just to make you happy. He had been adamant at the time that he was justified for that fight, had worried you that it would happen again and you’d be put through the terrifying ordeal once more, but now you wondered if that had changed. If he’d realised what he’d done wrong, just as you had.

You shouldn’t have walked away. He shouldn’t have stood his ground.

You sniffled and tightened your grip on him, threading your fingers through his shirt and nuzzled into his neck. His scratchy beard tickled at your scalp, and his arms wound themselves securely around you and held you firmly against his warm body. Even through your stuffy nose, the intermingling scent of pine and cigars and cheap laundry detergent smelled like heaven in that moment and it calmed you. You’d been able to stop crying for a moment, and found yourself wiping your hands over your eyes and face yet again.

“There you go, love,” he murmured. “That’s better, isn’t it? You don’t have to fight your problems alone, you know. I’ve always said that to you, haven’t I? You don’t have to try to be so strong all the time.”

You scoffed at that, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

“Don’t feel very strong right now,” you sniffed.

“Not strong? Course you are. You always try to push through everything till I come along and stop you, eh? C’mon, why don’t we get you sitting down and get you a glass of water.”

You smiled at his comment and nodded, drifting into the comfort of being looked after by someone that knew you so well.

Price took you over to the Sofa and fluffed up one of the pillows for you to sit against, not forgetting to unfold your favourite fluffy blanket in the process. He even wrapped it around you like a soft cloud, insulating you from the world.

He then disappeared into your kitchen for a moment, rummaging around and running the tap in a couple of short bursts before returning with a full glass of water and another glass with what you presumed was jack daniels and coke. That one wasn’t going to be for you, but distantly you did wish that it was. Drinking your problems away and escaping reality sounded like a rather pleasant prospect.

“Any chance you’d like to have the water?” you asked, smiling behind the blanket.

He chuckled and set the water down on the coffee table next to you, keeping the jack and coke on hand for himself while he sat down across from you. Even though he was only on the opposite end of the couch he felt too far away.

“Can’t have that. You’re not allowed to drink when you’re upset,” he said with a wink. “Against the rules.”

“Didn’t realise I still had to abide by those rules,” you retorted.

His eyes twitched a little, you could see something in his face change when you said that. You regretted it instantly.

“No ones holding you to em’, but they’re still what’s best for you, are they not?” he shrugged, looking at you expectantly.

Price had always been very good to you, and part of that was ensuring that you looked after yourself. So somewhere along the way in your relationship, when you’d been exploring each other’s kinkier sides, Price had set you some rules. Rules you had to follow on pain of a spanking. Sometimes it was a bother, but you’d come to realise that you’d never been healthier than when you’d been with him. You’d drank lots of water and made sure to go outside and go on walks when you could, and had refrained from falling back on alcohol when something was amiss. Just to think of a few rules.

He was correct in saying that they were what’s best. It was just difficult when he wasn’t around to enforce them.

“You’re usually right,” you said with an appeasing smile. “Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love to forget this whole weekend over a bottle of wine and a big box of cake though.”

He laughed at that, all traces of consternation wiped from his face as he must have pictured you with your go to coping mechanisms before you met him. You laughed too when you remembered the night he’d barged in on you eating and drinking your sorrows after a rough day at work. He’d had the joy of hauling you to bed afterward while you babbled on about how people had been so mean to you and how you wanted to set fire to the whole place and never go back there again.

“Well in lieu of wine and cake, you have water or I can go make you a tea. Would you like that?”

“No, its fine, the water’s good,” you said dismissively, finally picking up the cool glass with your dewy palms. “I just wish I could forget this whole weekend. It’s been a disaster.”

“Oh yeah? You ready to talk about it?”

You breathed in a sharp breath and tilted your head to the side.

Fuck it, you thought.

“Reid aired our dirty laundry in front of all of his friends and then proceeded to cheat on me,” you said, raising your water glass in toast before taking a swig. “That was after everyone made fun of me the whole time too.”

Price let out a short little laugh. He was incredulous.

“Cheated on you?”

“His ex kissed him and he uh- didn’t exactly try to get away from her,” you shrugged, voice breaking

“What a fuckin’ fool,” He growled. “He kissed his ex right in front of you?”

“He didn’t know I was there, I don’t think so anyway. I was supposed to be away getting drinks, but I came back to ask him what he wanted because they were out of beer and- well…yeah.”

“Doesn’t make it any better. What kind of an idiot would cheat on you?”

You felt your cheeks warm and shrugged again. Price had his faults, but he’d never hurt you like that. He was too old fashioned. A one person at a time kind of man.

“I guess it wasn’t really an amazing relationship to begin with anyway,” you sighed, reflecting over the month you’d had.

“No?”

“When I asked him where he saw things going, he said ‘I dunno. You want me to be your boyfriend or something?’ and then that was how we made things official,” you recounted, finally realising that maybe what had happened was for the best.

Price groaned and put a hand over his face. It reminded you of the time that you’d announced to him that you were going to buy a flying squirrel after you’d seen a cute video of one - something you often took to claiming with an array of different animals - and he’d worried you might be serious. He’d taken his hand off his face at the time and said ‘darlin with the amount of stuff I’ve had flying at me over the years, I’m not sure my heart could take being assaulted by an airborne rodent in the night.’

“You must be drawn to muppets or something,” Price mused. “You deserve a lot better than that.”

“I was with you last, wasn’t I?”

“Exactly,” He smirked. “Point proven.”

You smiled back at him and shook your head - Price and Reid weren’t comparable. Price cared for you too much, that’s why he ended up in that fight in the first place and that’s why he couldn’t comprehend that he was wrong for escalating things after you’d been shoved. Reid didn’t really care for you that much at all. It wasn’t like you’d made a massive effort for Reid either, but at the very least you hadn’t gone and let Price lick half your face off.

“You let me down at the end there, I’ll give you that…but before all that, you were the best thing that I’ve ever had in my life…Even when I wasn’t with you and you were in all those far off countries, and I used to whine and moan about you being away a lot, it was better than when I was actually alone, better than anything with anyone else too.”

“Love,” Price breathed, not knowing what to say.

You stared at him then and felt your heart burst. The floodwaters opened then, you coudln’t help yourself as you saw the sad sheen of his glistening eyes.

“These past few months I think I’ve really come to see what a stupid mistake I made. I shouldn’t have told you things were over before you left. I should’ve just stuck it out till you got back and we could’ve talked about it all properly. I was just scared and angry and I didn’t know what else to do. Now I know though…now I know what I should’ve done. Just tragically too late, huh?”

You whispered your confession, too afraid to look at him anymore as you said it, instead casting your eyes down to your blanket while you played with the soft material between your fingers. You huffed out a breath afterwards and looked up at Price, noticing the way his jaw clenched and his hand tightened on his glass. His knuckles were almost bone white.

Had you said too much? Were you going to chase him away? Who knows if he’d moved on and was really just trying to be there and be a friend for you.

For a split second you worried that you’d gone too far with your venting, but Price didn’t leave you hanging for long. He leaned forward and put a hand on your thigh just as you were about to apologise and held eye contact with you, keeping a firm hold of you and your attention.

“Darlin’...do you really mean all that?”

Your eyes would’ve welled up again if you had anything left to cry.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but yes. It’s been all that I’ve thought about since I saw you last week.”

“Sorry? What’re you sorry for?” he said, laughing gently, searching your face.

“It’s not fair to tell you something like that. I’m basically ambushing you with all my feelings right now and you’ve been nice enough to drive me home and look after me, when all you were trying to do was get some shopping in and now you’re here listening to me blubber about my stupid feelings, when I haven’t asked you how you feel and how you’ve been doing and you probably don’t even want me by this point, because look at me and big tear streaked face, and-”

Price cut you off mid ramble, moving in closer to you and taking your face in his hands. They were rough and familiar and they were warm, and they held you steady just as you felt like you were going to come apart again. You breathed, but it didn’t feel like your lungs were able to hold onto the air. They were fighting for space with your booming heartbeat.

“Angel…you really- do you think,” he had to pause for a moment, his voice crackling. “Do you think maybe it’s not too late to talk more about it? Not now, course, but… you think you’d want to give us another chance?”

You pursed your lips and looked down. Angel. His favourite nickname for you, the special one he reserved only for you. You looked back up to his wide blue eyes and nodded. It seemed like you were glittering in the reflection of them.

“Yes…One day,” you smiled.

Price smiled back, his moustache turning up with his lips.

“One day,” he repeated, voice full of wonder.

Neither of you said anything for a second. You both just stared, tension mounting as the air felt so thick that you could craft shapes with it. It felt like neither or you was sure of your next move, but suddenly you got a burst of courage and you decided to take a leap of faith.

You kissed him. You leaned forward just slightly and took his mouth in yours, pecking at first until he kissed back and eventually your world was bursts of stars and hints of jack and coke. The taste of him landed deliciously on your tongue. Your heart pounded harder than ever at that point, but it was ok, because you could feel his beating erratically just the same.

You moaned.

“Please, daddy...”

You let the words loose before you could even think about it. What is it they say about old habits…?

“Shit, hold on, I-” you sputtered, breaking away from Price completely.

“Language!” he chuckled, his laugh low and earthy.

You paused and looked at him measuredly, trying to parse out what had just happened. In the wake of all the familiarity, you’d resorted to your old name for him. Apparently he wasn’t against its resurrection, he’d found it amusing in fact. You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, searching for the right words, but you weren’t entirely decided between apologising or asking if he liked it.

“Don’t look so worried, Angel,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “You can still call me that if you like. Or are you apologising for kissing me?”

“But…well…isn’t it a bit unfair for you..y’know, since we haven’t really completely resolved things yet? I can’t just go around kissing you out of the blue and calling you daddy and we haven’t even talked about-”

“Would you stop rambling on about what’s fair and right,” Price admonished, rolling his eyes, “I don’t care about what you’ve been doing all these months, I don’t care about doing things by whatever rules people normally go by. All this time, all I’ve wanted is you, and now you’re here in front of me telling me you want to give things another go…I’ll take as much as you’ll give me. So tell me…do you want to kiss me? Will that make you happy? It would make me happy.”

You took a breath and nodded.

“Words, Angel,” he admonished.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, feeling like your head had been sparked with a jump lead.

“Very good,” he praised, whispering lowly into your ear.

You shivered as you felt the words zip down your spine. You hummed with the praise and felt your body warm up considerably, feeling entirely too hot all of a sudden.

Price soon gathered you in his arms like clay and moulded you into his lap, untangling you from your blanket nest and switching places so that he was propped against the arm and you were leaning snugly against him. With you both comfortably in place, he put one hand on your hip while he held the back of your neck with the other, and gently placed a couple of kisses on your neck, sending your spine alight with tingles.

“And would you like to call me daddy again?” he asked again, still murmuring deep and low.

You swore then that he’d disturbed a horde of butterflies that you didn’t know had been dormant all that time inside your tummy. Your heart was fluttering along with them.

“Um, yeah, I mean- yes. Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he urged, kissing your neck. “You know how to answer properly. I know you do.”

Were you in a fantasy of your own making? Had you died and gone to heaven?

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimpered, nuzzling your head into his chest.

“Oh…” he breathed, voice all growly and needy. “That’s my sweet Angel. So good for me.”

You could’ve died then and there. You couldn’t imagine ever feeling happier. You didn’t care if it was a fever dream, coma hallucination or a psychedelic induced fugue state. All you wanted was to be with Price again, and with him reassuring you and praising you and holding you in his arms like that, why would you try to fight it?

You unburrowed yourself from his chest and scanned over his face, admiring his crinkly eyed smile and scruffy face for a moment before kissing him again, wrapping your arms around him snug just in case it really was all a dream. You wouldn’t let it fade away. You were going to hold on tightly. You’d continue to kiss his fluffy bearded face and welcome every sensation as it rooted you in your dreamlike reality.

You intertwined yourself with him and moaned, returning his kisses with fervent need and roamed your hands around his back, eventually bringing a hand up so that you could thread your fingers through his wiry dark hair. The bristle of it jolted through you and you smiled against his lips.

“That feel good, hm?” he growled, “I can feel you bucking your hips against me, love.”

You felt your cheeks burn like hot coals and refused to meet his eyes, instead settling your chin on his shoulder. You hadn’t realised you’d been doing it, but now that he’d mentioned it you finally registered the sway of your body gliding over his and noticed the growing hardness underneath you.

Fuck.

“That does feel good,” you whimpered, not embarrassed enough to stop yourself. “Feels so good, daddy.”

“Mhmm? Feels good for me too. I love feeling your body on mine,” he hummed, kissing the side of your neck. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that? So so perfect.”

You whined and nuzzled against his neck, drawing out a low groan from him as your nose connected with his tender flesh. You slowly returned the favour, kissing him just as he’d been kissing you and showing him exactly how it felt to have your body set alight with prickling heat. You smiled as he continued to moan with you, but it didn’t last long.

He snatched the upper hand back, and propelled you both forward, forcing you to lie back on the couch, on top of your blanket, while he took his place on top of you. He ground his hips into yours and had you eking out the most salacious moans, filling the room with the sound of your pleasure.

“I love it when you moan for me like that, I’ve missed that sound so much,” Price rumbled, “do you want more? Would you like that?”

“Mm, yes,” you keened. “More, daddy. I want to feel you.”

“Wanna feel me, hm? Ok, Angel. Lets get these clothes off shall we?”

You moaned just at the suggestion and eagerly complied, sitting up a little and helping him to remove your top and trousers until you were naked below him. You were about to ensure that he matched you in kind, but the only thing he’d allowed you to remove was his shirt, hastily popping the buttons off like you were unwrapping a present. He’d put his hand over yours at his trousers and given you a wicked grin, a glint appearing in his azure eyes.

“Uh uh, don’t you worry about that,” he smiled, bringing your hand up to his lips so that he could kiss it. “We’re focusing on you right now.”

“But I wanna make you feel good too,” you whined, tilting your head.

“I know you do,” he laughed, gently pushing you back down so that you were flush to the couch. “Just trust me, this will make me feel very good. Just let me treat you like you deserve.”

He didn’t allow you any more time for backchat. You whimpered as he fastened his mouth around one of your nipples and you writhed at the sensation, moaning low in your throat when he trailed his hand down your body, past the swell of your belly and drifted down below. You were bucking your hips against him slowly again, creating friction between you and his hand.

He alternated between nipples for a moment, swirling and flicking his tongue while he lazily rubbed his palm against you, not in a rush to try and urge you to a finish. He savoured you and sent your body sparking and prickling like a freshly lit firecracker. Your breathing was getting heavier and your stomach was tightening and coiling and it only grew more and more erratic as he started to move down your body, kissing his way down to the opening between your thighs.

“So good for me lying there. So obedient. You always do what daddy tells you, don’t you?” he growled, planting a kiss just below your belly.

“Mm, yes,” you breathed, struggling to think of any words

“Yes what?” Price asked, nipping the meat of your thigh and drawing out a yelp.

“Yes, daddy!”

He was using his tongue on you now, swirling it around and tasting you, savouring your pleasure. You swallowed the lump in your throat and clutched at the couch cushion next to you, scrunching the thick material in your hand, clutching it for support. It didn’t take long until he fell into a steady rhythm, using his mouth and hands on you and sending you into a spiral.

Your mind was barely present anymore, you were only good to use a couple words and no more. Everything else was just moans while your head felt like it was turning to mush. You breathed deeply and heavily and thrust your hips against Price, feeling the coil in your belly tighten all the more, feeling the stars in your eyes turn from constellations and into tiny galaxies and universes.

“I- um- Daddy, I-”

“Are you gonna cum for me, love?” Price rasped.

“Yes!”

“Go on then. Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel, Angel.”

You groaned and the swelling feeling in your head boiled to breaking point. You shuttered your eyes closed tightly and squeezed the couch cushion tightly, moaning out as your orgasm washed over you. The wave of pleasure rushed over your body and after a big rush of pleasure, it lapped slowly over you, gently receding until you were left a shaking twitching mess underneath your lovers body.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, blinking away the fuzziness form your eyes. “Holy…Moly.”

Price looked up at you from between your thighs and barked out a laugh, clutching his head in his hand while the other gripped your shaking thigh. Once he recovered from your outburst, he shook his head and clambered up your body, coming to a rest against next to you, and drawing you into his arms.

He was rock hard against you, but there was very little you could do about it in the state you were in. You just bustled yourself into him and lay your head against the warm expanse of his chest and sighed happily, basking in the aftershocks of your happy ending he rubbed your arms.

“You’re not gonna let me return the favour, are you?” You’d mumbled eventually, rutting up against him for emphasis.

“Got plenty time for that, Angel,” he said gently redirecting you off of his throbbing centre. “Just wanted to make you feel good. You’ve had such a rough day, you deserved something to take your mind off it all.”

He placed a kiss on top of your head then and drew you closer, wrapping his arm tighter around you. You sighed and ran your fingers along it, feeling the little dark hairs tickle at your finger tips. You came to a stop at his palm and lightly traced over his lifeline, it was illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp.

“How come you were out shopping so late?” You asked sleepily, letting your hand drop and rest at Price’s side.

He shrugged at first, rocking your body with the movement.

“Sat around feelin’ a bit useless today,” he said eventually, sighing deeply. “Didn’t have anything lined up for myself, so eventually I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I went all the way out to the hills and was out for hours, didn’t get back until after dark and then i realised I didn’t have anything to eat. How come?”

“I dunno…i guess its just a little funny that you ended up in that car park just when I needed you to be there. Like fate or something,” you murmured.

He chuckled at that and kissed your head again. The sound washed over you like spring rain.

“You know I don’t normally subscribe to rubbish like that, but on this occasion…it feels like there’s something to that theory.”

“Yeah? Feel’s like a good thing to be saddled with me again, does it?” you smirked, trying to cover up how worried you were about being a burden.

No matter how good he’d made you feel only moments before you couldn’t help the rush of paranoia from kicking in. The feeling that Price was going to realise that you were too much to be with, that you needed him more than he needed you. It had begun to feel like the past few months were a great demonstration of that. He’d survived a warzone and gotten through deployment while you holed yourself up for over a month from grief and then jumped into a failed relationship in the making just to try and get over him.

“Listen to me, love, before you get any big ideas about this being some kind of hardship for me again…This past week that I’ve been back has been miserable. Deployment was bad, but I had a bit of distraction over there at least. When I got back here, and realised what life was really like without you? That was hell. You give me purpose, Angel. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now, than cuddled up with you on the couch. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, no one in the whole world.”

He swallowed harshly and continued on.

“When I thought I’d lost you forever I was so angry with myself, I realised right away when I got on that plane that I should’ve just admitted that you were right. You were right, and I shouldn’t of hurt that man like that. I lost control of myself and I was too stubborn to hear that he wasn’t really a threat. I wanted to call you and tell you that, but I figured you’d been hurt enough and the last thing you needed was me playing with your feelings and trying to work things out while I was away. I reckoned that if I came back and you were open to give things a go again I’d make sure to fix things, but if you wanted to keep me out your life then…well I’d have wished you the best. Whatever happens between us, now or in the future, I want you know that I only ever want what’s best for you, because I…”

He trailed off, peering toward the lamp and letting his eyes blur into its amber glow. You stared up at him from your place on his chest and smiled, watching the way his lips tried to form to finish his sentence. He was pensive, he wasn’t sure whether to say them or not.

“Because you love me?” you smiled, swivelling so that you faced him fully.

You finally had a little strength flood back into your body, so you hoisted yourself up and lay on your tummy, folding your arms over his chest and resting your chin on top of them. He tilted his head at you and smiled, affirming your words with a tight nod.

“I’ll always love you,” he sighed, “No matter what. Just wasn’t sure if it was entirely appropriate to say that to you just yet.”

“John, you just threw me around and made me cum while I called you daddy - appropriate ran out the door and flew to the moon like a half hour ago,” you giggled.

He laughed with you and shook his head, clearly in as much disbelief as you were that this was really happening. You were back in each others arms, just where you were always meant to be. You sighed and he ran his hand over your head, stroking his fingers through your hair and sending your head into a fuzzy daze with the feeling of his gentle touch.

“You make a good point,” he agreed. “Always have struggled with moving at a normal pace, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, I think that was pretty apparent from the moment we met,” you agreed.

“I’ll never forget the look on Gaz’s face that night he opened that door,” he mused, getting that stupid smile on his face that he always got at the memory of the time you’d met - and immediately fucked.

“I hate when you bring that up,” you groaned, giving his arm a playful slap. “He was so pleased he’d introduced us before he walked in on us!”

“Well, serves him right for not knocking,” he winked, “it's rude to barge in on a superior officer.”

“Ugh! You’re lucky I love you too, or I’d be getting up and locking that bedroom door,” you groaned. “I hate the superior officer line!”

He smiled at that, his face brightening instantly. You’d said it back. His eyes were perfect crescents. You loved when they did that, sparkling outwardly to you through shuttered lids. He was like a cuddly koala bear.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, his voice low and soft.

“What?” you asked, frowning as his tone shifted.

“You’re going to let me take you for dinner tomorrow,” he announced.

“I am?” you smirked, relaxing instantly.

“Yes you are. We’re going to go to dinner and talk everything through and we’re going to set everything right again. Then after that we’re going to put all this nonsense behind us, yeah?”

You giggled lightly at his commanding tone, but you didn’t disagree, you nodded. You fastened your arms around him and cuddled into him close, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you settled into his perfectly warm body. Your eyes started to flutter as you did, growing heavy as you became more and more aware of how drained you actually were.

“I think I like the sound of that,” you sighed, closing your eyes completely.

Price squeezed your shoulder and gathered you close, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. His beard scratched at your scalp again.

“Good,” he yawned. “That sounds good to me too…”

-💘-

1 week later

You were sorting out some grand emergency at work and Price was in your flat alone. He’d had a shower and gotten himself half dressed, too eager to get something to eat to put a shirt on. So he stood in your little kitchen in front of the window, bathing in the spring sunlight, eating a bowl of cereal to himself as his damp hair dried from his strategic position.

Just like he’d said, you had fixed things at dinner the night after you’d reconciled - and from there on it was almost like things had completely gone back to normal. Almost. When you’d turned your phone on the next day, you were greeted with a torrid of horrible messages and some hundred missed calls from Reid. However, with Price there, you didn’t really let any of it bother you.

Not much anyway.

He held you through your upset and after a quiet minute of figuring out what to do, you messaged Reid a short, matter of fact text. You told him that you were in fact serious about your decision, you reminded him that - no - you weren’t drunk when you’d left, you weren’t ‘being crazy’ and would even be generous enough to put his things he’d left at yours into a box for him to collect, should he decide to be grown up enough to come over and get them.

You’d gotten a million more missed calls after that and a flurry of messages, but after hearing Price’s words of encouragement, you ignored them all. After a few days they stopped coming, and a few days after that you assumed that that was it. That he was out of your life for good. Thank god.

However, Reid had decided he wasn’t going to go completely quietly. Well, he was forced into not going quietly. After being egged on by his friends, he was put in a tricky position and realised that he wasn’t going to be able to back down. At their insistence he was going to turn up to your place unannounced and confront you when you were least expecting it - give you a piece of his mind while you were unprepared and unable to defend your ‘completely mental overreaction’.

At least that was how it was supposed to go.

Though, when he’d pounded on the door and had someone other than you answer, his smile dropped. His face was practically tripping him when he realised who it was that answered.

“Can I help you?” Price asked, crunching on a spoonful of cereal, completely unbothered.

“Can you…help me?” Reid repeated, incredulous.

“Certainly can,” Price grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s why I offered.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s that hypocrite that’s clearly cheated on me?”

Reid was furious. He couldn’t believe that he was made to feel like such an asshole for kissing someone else when you’d been with the geriatric behind his back the whole time. He was fuming

“Hypocrite? I believe you two were broken up after that little stunt you pulled, mate,” Price corrected, putting his cereal bowl down on the entry table. “Why don’t you just settle down and stay here while I get your little box of shit. Then you can be on your way.”

“You think I’m just going to go while you’re making me look like a mug? You went and swooped in on someone that’s taken and think you can just walk around naked like you own the place now because they slutted themselves out to you?”

“Careful, son,” Price growled. “Better choose your words more carefully.”

“Or what? You’re gonna kill me?” Reid laughed. “You don’t intimidate me, old man. You’d lose your job over something like that. Guy like you would go to prison for a long time.”

Price chuckled to himself and nodded his head, quirking his lips into an upside down smile. It didn’t meet his eyes though. They didn’t turn to crescents, they just stayed slitted ever so slightly, glaring at the absolute maggot before him.

Price would’ve loved to have taught that shit eating little cunt a lesson. Though he knew already that any kind of physical violence would have you both on the rocks again, and after he’d just gotten you back he wasn’t ready to jeopardise things. However that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t prepared for Reid’s visit, oh no. He had more weapons at his disposal than the average man - he knew plenty of people in lots of places, both high and low, powerful and shady.

“Little old fella like me couldn’t do damage like that,” Price sighed, putting his hand over his heart like he was weary. “I have other things I can do though. Don’t even need to bother laying a hand on a little weasel like you.”

“Oh yeah like what?” Reid laughed, hoisting himself up to the last step and getting into Price’s face. “You gonna get some army buddy of yours to rough me up or something, pay me a visit and scare me? If that happens I’ll record the whole thing.I’ll get you done for it! All my friends know about you, they’d back me up that you were behind it all.”

Price shook his head and sent a quick message off on his phone, quickly taking it out of his pocket and burying it back in again in a flash. After that, he proceeded to pick his cereal back up and ate another spoonful, scrunching up his face when he realised it had mostly lost its crunch. Well, he made a face at that and the fact that Reid was still there and giving him that stupid challenging little look.

“Sounds like I’d get into a lot of bother for that,” Price agreed, swirling his spoon around his bowl. “I’d just hate for you to have recordings…mind you, I don’t think I’ll have to worry too much about those. You’ll be too busy trying to unfuck your life to bother about me.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Reid frowned.

Reid threw him a gesture as if to ask what the hell, and Price shrugged, taking one last bite of his less than tasty cereal. He resolved to himself that he’d pour another bowl and get himself to the shops. He’d hate for you to be running low - it was important to him that you ate afterall. All a part of making sure you were looked after and cared for.

“I said - what’s that supposed to mean!” Reid gritted out, poking a finger into Price’s chest.

Price growled and shot him a warning glare, sending the younger man flying back with just the change in demeanour alone. Reid looked stupid then, holding his palm out like he was going to try and karate chop Price.

“Why don’t you run home and go check your credit score and bank accounts, hm?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Reid laughed, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Are you actually trying to pretend like you can do something like-”

Reid trailed off and frowned down at his device, hurriedly tapping the screen as his brows knitted tighter together.

“Ugh, what an absolute dinosaur I am,” Price grunted, shaking his head at himself. “You can check all these things on your phone nowadays. Plonker. Anyway, like I said - have fun trying to work all that out.”

Price went to shut the door, but grunted when Reid stuck his foot in it before he could close it fully. He glared when he almost spilled his cereal on himself, the milk had splashed up against the sides and a little had dribbled onto his foot. Other than that he was mostly uncovered. Reid was safe from having the rest splashed all over him.

“I’m going to the Police about this! You hear me? I’m going to report this and you’ll be in so much fucking trouble!” Reid vowed, wrenching the door back open. “Fix this right now! Fix it now, or I’ll do it. I’ll go to the police.”

“Go to the police then. But what’re you gonna tell them exactly? ‘Oh, my ex’s boyfriend has frozen all of my money and tanked my credit score! Do something, Mr. Officer!’ Sounds a bit fucking looney, doesn’t it?”

Reid looked at him with wide eyes, withdrawing his foot from the doorway as Price laughed at him, frowning as the realisation fully sunk in. He could report the crime, but he had no idea how Price had even managed to do it in the first place. Something like that would require the help of dodgy people, the likes of which Reid couldn’t even comprehend.

And if he could do all that to Reid’s finances…after, presumably, sending a single text…then what else would Price be capable of?

Reid backed away fully and looked at Price and down at his phone, then back to Price and back down at his phone, locked in a state of disbelief. What the fuck had just happened. His heart dropped and his mouth got dry. It was like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Watch that last step, son. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself,” Price called, grabbing the door so that he could finally shut it. “If you know what’s good for you you should stay away from here and never send another pig headed message again. Never know - It might help your little money situation. Might not help, mind you, but it certainly couldn’t hurt, could it? Good bye, now.”

And with that Price closed the door and retreated back inside, leaving Reid to stand stupidly on the grass out front while he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

There, Price thought, things are just as they should be now. He smirked to himself as washed up his cereal bowl, replaying what had just happened in his head. Thank you Nik. Guess I owe you a beer, mate.

4K notes · View notes

random0lover · 2 years ago

Note

Okay this was literally perfect🥹

I paused my show to read this and now I’m laying in bed crying because the ending was so fucking sweet! John being stressed that something bad was coming just to find out that his wife is pregnant made my heart start beating hard because I’m sure he was so stressed those 3 weeks 🥺

Then him going silent scared me for a solid minute but then the excitement he showed? I wanted to start crying then! And don’t get me started about how I actively started crying because he immediately decided that was going to take two whole years off 😭

Then him saying, “This is more important. You both are more important.” Full blown tears just pouring out of my eyes until I had to set my phone down because I could see the screen anymore.

Oh, to be loved by John Price *dreamy sigh*

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Text

𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 | 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Pairing ༄ Firemen!Stucky x F!Reader Word Count ༄ 2.4k Warnings ༄ Swearing, pet names, extreme tension of the spicy kind, fluff, implication of a poly relationship (Steeb and Bucko are married but it doesn't stop them), they are menaces Rating ༄ M Event ༄ @stuckybingo B5 (Firefighter AU) Author's Note ༄ Look, I can't help what I did here. I just thought of their uniforms. You're welcome.

Built Differently Masterlist | Stucky Bingo Masterlist

It was an old wives tale that you put no stock in: that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach – though this time, it worked, and it worked better than you could have ever imagined.

It had been a day. And on days like this, you turned to baking; sugar was a sure-fire way to improve anyone’s mood.

You weren’t sure how you had gone that overboard, though. Your kitchen, once spotless and organised, was in disarray with trays of muffins and cookies that were overloaded to the point they were almost overflowing.

It wasn’t a baking disaster, no – it was just a severe overestimation of the ingredients, that’s all.

The clouds out of your kitchen window looked stormy and grey, and a steady breeze rustled the trees lining your yard, and you sighed, glancing back down at the array of sweets. You came to a decision then. The firemen – and firewomen – at your local station; they were always giving to the community, fearlessly putting their lives on the line to save others and help them.

They deserved some sweet treats, too.

With your arms ladened with containers of baked goods, you placed them on the back seat of your car and then started the engine. The fire station of your small town wasn’t too far away, so you cranked up the volume of your radio and began the quick drive, a big smile on your face.

There was a bus parked just down the road with the sign for children boarding, and the smile on your face widened. Today must have been field trip day, and where better to do it than here? Children were standing just inside the station's roller doors where a truck sat, lights flashing bright; red and blue bouncing and reflecting off of gleeful, childish smiles.

You hummed quietly to yourself and parked your car, a small distance away to keep the driveway clear – after all, emergencies didn’t stop just because children and baked goods appeared.

A loud whoop of a siren echoed as you made your way to the open roller door and the children squealed, making you grin behind the towering containers in your arms, overjoyed to have picked such a cheerful day to share.

“Kids, settle down,” a deep voice called, the smile evident in the tone. You peered around the doorway and saw a fireman, a toothy smile surrounded by an immaculate goatee. “Now, are you ready to see how we get down the pole,” the man pointed over his shoulder towards the shining fireman’s pole by the stairs, “over there?”

A collective cheer came from the children and you lowered your arms just a little bit so you could see over the top container better. The doorway was partially in the way so you stepped inside, and the man spotted you. “Hi there,” he said, and you smiled back. “Just a minute. Buck can help you when he gets down here.”

“No worries at all,” you said, and Sam — as his name badge on his chest showed — winked before turning back towards the pole.

“Buck, Steve! Show these kids how it’s done.”

Heaven above, you were not ready for what would come sliding down that damned pole.

The squeak from the sole of boots and the pull of skin against metal sounded and your mouth opened in a quiet gasp, the containers nearly tumbling from your arms.

A blonde man, the size of a fucking tree, you swore, slid down first. The pants of his uniform were held up by red suspenders that lay over an extremely muscled chest, on full display through an extremely tight grey shirt. He landed on the cement floor with a grunt and spread his arms out, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he took in the clapping children.

“C’mon, Buck,” he called, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Get down ‘ere!”

It was a miracle that the children cheered again, because the noise that left you when ‘Buck’ slid down the pole was not dignified.

‘Buck’ was just as, if not, taller than the blonde you assumed now was Steve, and definitely broader. Dark brown hair fell down his face in strands while the rest was kept up in a messy bun. His grin was wide, happy, and bright, and his face was covered in a light dusting of stubble. The dark red, almost burgundy shirt that he was wearing was arguably tighter than Steve’s.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered when Bucky stood next to Steve, throwing a tattooed arm over Steve’s shoulder, grinning down at the kids that barely reached their knees. “Oh, fuck.”

Fate wanted to laugh at you, however, because it was at that moment that both Steve and Buck looked over at the open doorway, their grins growing wider by tenfold once they managed a glance at your floundering expression.

“Take care a’her,” Sam, the man with the goatee said before gathering and herding the kids towards the far wall, where uniforms and helmets hung ash stained, but proud.

They sauntered over, and it was all you could do to not fall to the floor with wobbling knees.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said brightly, and you bit back a whimper. “What can we do for you?”

Uselessly, you glanced between the two of them – struck by how damn handsome they were up close. It put all your calendars to shame.

“Doll?” Buck said, raising a brow and offering his arms to take the containers. “Lemme take them for you.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, immediately growing anxious at the loss of the barrier you had to hide behind. “I-I baked them for you guys, as a thank you for all you do for us–”

“Is that a batch of cookies I see?”

Bucky turned at the voice, but Steve was still staring at you, a smirk growing on his pretty pink lips–stop it! You chided yourself.

“Clint, back off, they’re mine!” Buck yelled, pulling the containers tighter to his chest and shifting closer to Steve until their shoulders bumped.

A snort sounded behind them and you watched another blond approach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” Clint said, waving a hand as he entered what looked like an office. “Like your husband would protect you when he could take them all for himself.”

Immediately you looked at Bucky’s left hand, ignoring the way the intricate tattoos contrasted against his skin in the light, and saw two gold bands – one wider than the other with black and red stones. You felt crestfallen, it was a shame–

“What’re you staring at, sweetheart?” Steve piped up suddenly, a dangerously mischievous glint in his eyes. “You eyein’ up my husband?”

The ground couldn’t swallow you whole quick enough, and your eyes widened. “No!”

Buck laughed and shook his head. “Like you weren’t enjoyin’ it, punk.” The containers shifted in his arms and he offered his hand. “I’m Bucky, and this here is Steve.” You offered your name and gasped as Bucky pulled on your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Stop swooning and just ask her out for coffee, you fool,” Steve snapped and rolled his eyes, taking the containers from Bucky and striding away, pausing only to wink at you.

Time had frozen. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Bucky said, staring at what you would guess to be Steve’s ass as he walked away. “Anyway,” he turned back to you and you realised belatedly that he was still holding your hand. “Thank you, doll, we appreciate it a lot.”

You looked up at him and smiled the best you could – you were still reeling from the shock of whatever the hell just happened. “You’re welcome,” you said quietly, and Bucky tilted his head slightly. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing his hair brush against his cheeks, and the way his grey eyes shone in the light. “I better go–”

“Where you goin’?” Bucky interrupted. He was still not letting go of your hand.

Staring up at him, you struggled for words before settling on, “Home.”

Bucky raised a single brow in question, and shook his head slightly, as if amused. “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

Oh, god, you thought.

“Come stay a while, the kids are leavin’ soon,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the kids with a nod of his head. “And this way we can give our compliments to the baker directly.” His smirk – god, it would be the death of you. “I owe you a coffee, c’mon.”

The tug on your hand was like a jumpstart to your heart, and you followed on autopilot while Bucky walked towards another door. His heavy boots slapped against the floor and you watched his back ripple as he walked, barely restraining yourself to just reach out and run your hand over the muscle, to feel the power and strength of them.

“There he is,” Steve said suddenly, his head poking out the door just ahead. “I was about to come and pull you off her.”

“Like you wouldn’t join in, punk,” Bucky huffed, and you stiffened, your mind racing. Just what kind of marriage was this?

The door opened and Bucky pulled you inside. It was a breakroom of some description with lockers lining one side of the room, while tables littered the middle, surrounded by mismatched soft chairs. A red-haired woman was perched on a black chair just inside the entry, while a younger man stood at the lockers – both of them were staring right at you as you entered behind Bucky, the young man with wide eyes, the woman with narrowed eyes, like she was appraising you.

“Who’s this?” The red-head asked, a sly smirk pulling at her lips when she glanced down to see Bucky still holding your hand.

“This is the lovely dove that baked us all these goodies,” Clint piped up suddenly behind you.

The young man ran towards Steve who was setting out the baked treats, snatching one with a laugh when Steve pushed him away. “Kid, you got no damn patience, d’you?”

“No,” he answered, and he looked at you, waving happily. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Hi Peter,” you said softly. Bucky pulled you closer again and you were suddenly against his side, his arm over your shoulder and all you could smell was him - woodsmoke, some kind of spice, and just Bucky. You gulped quietly and smiled at the red-head who stood slowly and made her way over to the table, then Steve. “I hope you like them,” you gestured to the containers.

“Make way!”

Bucky pulled you to stand beside the door and the man with the goatee appeared, grinning happily and making a beeline to the table of containers. “That’s Sam,” Bucky whispered, pointing at Sam’s back with the hand over your shoulder. “He’s the fire chief.” Then he pointed at the woman, a slight smile on his lips when you looked up at him. “That’s Nat, and I am terrified of her.”

“I heard that, Barnes,” Nat said suddenly, her back still to you as she perused what was on offer. “Watch it.”

Unseen by her, Bucky grimaced exaggeratedly and saluted. You laughed.

“Alright,” Steve said, clapping his hands. He took a seat on a couch you didn’t notice before and he patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down, sweetheart,” he said, though you had no choice because Bucky had started to steer you towards him. “You deserve to enjoy your baking, too.”

You landed with an oof against Steve’s side, and Bucky followed, sitting on the free cushion with a loud groan. “Haven’t sat down all day,” he complained. Steve rolled his eyes and offered you a muffin that you took with a smile.

The containers slowly emptied and so did the room. Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Sam had filtered out to the office, leaving you alone with Steve and Bucky.

“So, sweetheart,” Steve purred suddenly, and your gaze snapped to his face. You could feel Bucky shift next to you but you were trapped in Steve’s gaze, a deer in headlights. “What d’you say, huh?”

You baulked, not even registering Bucky’s hand on your shoulders, slowly moving up to grip the back of your neck. “What?”

Steve chuckled and Bucky huffed a laugh, putting more pressure on the back of your neck – enough to cause you to shiver. “Come home with us, doll,” Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. A shudder flew up your spin and you couldn’t form words. It was all too much of a shock–

An alarm echoed in the breakroom and you jumped a foot in the air.

“Damn it all,” Steve groaned.

Bucky looked to the ceiling and let go of your neck. “Always the fuckin’ way.”

“What’s happening?” You asked, looking between the two as they got to their feet, slight frowns on their lips.

“Time to go save lives,” Steve winked. “Tell ‘er, Buck, I’ll see you out there.”

You watched Bucky nod and offer a hand to pull you up, only when you took it, he pulled you tight to his chest, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat when you let out a small noise of surprise. His hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back so he had to bend slightly to look you in the eye, it was all you could do to not whine needily at the action – why was he so damn tall, you cursed.

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling a small card and a pen from his pants pocket. He stood there for a second scrawling something, and then he handed it to you. It was a phone number. “Call me later.”

There was a shout from out by the truck and Bucky winced. “I gotta go, doll,” he rushed, and he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, the stubble on his jaw tickling slightly.

“Okay,” you said numbly, still in shock. Bucky smiled and ran from the room; the yells of his crew audible even over the alarm. Slowly, you ran your finger over where he kissed your cheek.

You couldn’t shake the warmth you felt when you sat next to Steve, nor could you shake the comfort you felt from Bucky’s touch. It was surreal. They were married to one another, but yet, here they were so openly flirting with you – you were intrigued, happy even for that fact.

Suddenly, as you walked back to your car parked a small way away, thumbing at the small card in your hand, you realised bringing treats to the station may have just changed your life.

And you could not wait.

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Note

This… holy shit this man 🤤

This was so incredibly hot and the writing actually pulled me into the moment which I really loved. Oh, and the banter? I loved that so much, made it feel more real 😭

okay hear me out (i have no idea if youve done a fic like this already, so if you have you can ignore 😭) but like… riding leons face. thats it- thats the quote. thank you 🥰

10/10 talented brilliant truly inspiring prompt to the point where I went sO FAR-

Riding his face. That's it. That's the blurb.

Warnings/content: Fem reader, 2nd person (you, yours), Post RE4 Leon onwards, soft dom Leon talks you through it, praise, squirting, (obviously) face riding

Word count: 2,900 est.

!! NSFW UNDER CUT, MINORS BACK TF UP OR I'M THROWING YOU INTO THE REGENERATOR LAB !!

﹀.♡.﹀﹀﹀.♡.﹀﹀﹀.♡.﹀﹀﹀.♡.﹀﹀﹀.♡.﹀

“You want me to what?”

Your boyfriend’s request had you in a state of shock, stopping what was originally turning from soft kisses into another night of mind-breaking sex.

Leon couldn’t help but find it pretty damn funny just how stunned you were by his suggestion. He shook his head with a light laugh. “You heard me, sweetheart. I want you to ride my face. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though.”

Fumbling hands fiddled together. The very thought had you squeezing your thighs together from under the oversized shirt of Leon’s you’d claimed; hell, just hearing those words leave his mouth was enough to send a shock straight to your panties. But none of that could scare away how anxious you were. “No I’m open to it, it's just- what if you can’t breathe?”

“Okay after years of fighting bullshit I’d happily die between your thighs.”

You huffed out, punching at his shoulder and earning you another laugh. “Leon, I’m serious!”

He swatted your hand away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to try and settle you. “Honey I’ve been held underwater for well over 10 minutes without air. You’ve forced my head into a pillow as punishment for plenty of shitty jokes. I’ll be just fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll tap your arm twice if it gets too much. Sound good?”

With a look up into his eyes through your lashes, you finally felt yourself cave. Leon had made you open to a lot of different experiences, and so far all of them had ended up in your favour. So you figured from that kind of history it was at least worth a shot. “Sounds good.”

You could already see the excitement building behind those eyes.

“Alright, c’mere.”

He took you by the chin in an instant, dragging you down to lay on top of him with a long kiss. He’d already settled his head comfortably into one of the pillows. Your hands pressed flush against his chest to keep yourself somewhat upright, trying to keep a steady pace to pick up from where you’d left off. One of your favourite things about making love with Leon was how close you both wanted to be. Time and parting was truly such sweet sorrow, which made sense as to why the day after coming home you were both desperate to have his cock buried inside of you until all you could remember was his name. To have you cumming on his fingers, or him in your mouth, honestly you could care less where. Sure cuddling and kisses were great, but both of you craved that deeper intimacy.

But Leon clearly wasn’t in the mood for patience today, no pacing was needed. His hands tucked up under the shirt to take hold of the soft skin of your hips, and began ever so slightly dragging you forward. This earned him a laugh from you. “My god you’re really set on this aren’t you?”

He gave you a lop-sided smile in return. “You betcha.” Then he was drawing you back into a quick kiss, one you pulled away from to speak with a giggle.

“A little patience goes a long way, mr.” A finger prodded at his chest as you teased him. Leon gave a light-hearted scoff at your comment, the type you’d get when he wasn’t willing to laugh but wanted you to know that whatever you’d said had him smiling.

“What can I say, I know what I want and I’m set on getting it. Now, if you don’t sit yourself down I’ll pull you down.”

You scoffed out, still nervous. “Just give me a second. I’m a little scared.”

He couldn’t help but smirk. “Scared of my mouth? I mean it’s the same one that’s gone down-

Before he could give you some kind of snarky comeback, your lips were on his. God, his favourite way for you to shut him up. A usual way, sure, but it never got old. A hand pressing against his bare chest as you grinned against him. When you pulled back, Leon was still beaming at you.

“Better?”

You nodded with hesitance, taking a low breath in and heaving it back out slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Okay.”

Shuffling your hips forward just enough to rest at where his throat began, you let out a shaky breath. Then with a great deal of hesitance lifted yourself up so you were hovering just above Leon’s face, one hand keeping the front of your shirt up and out of the way. He looked more than eager, and when you clamped a hand over your mouth to hide your smile it was as if you were contagious, because he was chuckling now too.

“What?” He asked, pulling some of his hair out of his eyes.

“Ohhhh my god that’s really weird.” Your voice muffled thanks to your palm, staring right down at where your boyfriend was positioned. Your boyfriend, who so far looked bordering on euphoric with the very idea of this happening. Leon was always nothing short of thrilled to give you head.

A breathy laugh puffed from his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s-” You lowered your hand with a lighthearted huff. “Christ you haven’t moved yet I am so done for. Just your breath is- Good god.”

Leon felt like he was the one that was done for, eyes locked onto the wetness already collecting rather generously through the lips of your cunt. If he stayed like this any longer, he was sure it’d drip down right into his mouth. He licked over his bottom lip in anticipation. “Y’know you can scoot down, darlin’.”

“Oh you wish. I’m so freaked out to sit down you have no ide-”

Whatever ‘a’ was meant to finish that word instead turned into a small yelp of surprise thanks to Leon’s hands pulling your pussy directly down against his mouth. As mentioned recently, no patience this time around. As soon as you made contact your body threw itself forward in an arch.

“Shit!” Your gasp hit the headboard, hand gripping the wood for dear life as if worried you might fall onto your side from the sensation. Something that shot straight through you, piercing you like an arrow from top to bottom. Sure, he’d gone down on you plenty of times before. But this new position, where his mouth was pressing right up into you as you sat spread out for him, had you in shambles. And he’d barely started.

A breathy whine fell from your lips, lip wobbling slightly as you tried to adjust to the feeling with squirming thighs. You were barely given a moment to adapt to such a change. “Lee, you- ngh ah, fuck- you cheated.”

But you got no response in return, nothing but Leon’s mouth starting you off in slow, soft kisses from the bottom of your lips right up to your clit. Such a simple motion that already had you panting, already had you hot and bothered. All coherent protests regarding his ‘cheating’ in this game of yours left your mind in an instant, now too busy taking in how your boyfriend was now parting his lips every few kisses to take more of you into his mouth, giving all of you the attention he felt it deserved. And god if it wasn’t worth it to feel your legs already trembling from where his face sat between them. You were driving him insane, the way you hummed against your lips in a pitiful attempt to silence every noise and squeak, back stretching in a short arch with every slight movement. He could already hear you panting.

You thought it couldn’t feel any better, that he couldn’t work you up more than he’d already managed to thanks to this godsend of an angle. Oh how wrong you were. With a neck crane he found and latched right down onto your clit, being rewarded with the whine you let out. Your hips twitched, that he definitely felt. He was sucking, rolling the bundle back and forth against his tongue from in his mouth and just grazing past the skin of his teeth, getting nothing but shaken whimpers and keens from you. That delicious mix of pain with pleasure. He was eating you out and tearing you down like a man starved, his slight stubble brushing against your skin like the sweetest of sandpaper, marking you as his. Your body downright burned.

A few soft ‘fuck, that’s it’s were whispered here or there between your whines. The most submissive he’d heard you be in a long time, so open for him despite your clear worry of cutting off his breath - which was impossible. So, to try and ease you into a state of nothing but bliss, he let go of your puffy clit. What was once a broken whine of protest turned into an open-mouthed moan as you felt him work his tongue bit by bit into the sopping wet heat of your cunt. Warm and stretched for him, already leaking out into his mouth, clearly comfortable with the different actions he’d been testing on you. He wondered why he hadn’t asked to do this much earlier.

You could feel him moving his head ever so slightly to the side with each movement, trying to commit how you felt in his mouth to memory. Each little sound or shaken sigh as you fought with your hips to not twitch or buck against his face - much to his dismay.

He pulled back just for a moment to speak. “C’mon gorgeous, don’t be shy.”

But you were still a bit nervous. It got to the point where he grabbed you by the supple skin on either side of you, grinding you down onto his tongue at an angle that had you whining out and quickly grabbing at the sheets. One hand still trying so hard to keep your shirt up so you could keep marvelling at the gorgeous boy beneath you. But it shot a spark through you, his roughened hands on each thigh with such a gentle yet firm hold, one that would stop you if you so much as hesitated to move. All you could get out of him were rasped yet satisfied hums against your cunt, a ‘good girl, so good’ every few moments between the loud licks, sucks and sounds of his tongue on your raw cunt. You couldn’t help but stare down at him for a second, to see the look of concentration in those eyes shut tight. Like he was mentally mapping you out so he could learn every spot to hit next time. You could’ve came right then and there if it weren’t from fear of almost waterboarding your poor boyfriend.

That was until he found that one spot. The one that had your mind blanking out when Leon’s tongue brushed against it. Something spongy, something he obviously recognised because he then focused right in on that spot with every prod and lap into his mouth.

“Holy shit. Right there.” Your voice wobbled as your head tipped back to let out an exhale of pure pleasure, hips with a mind of their own chasing some kind of release. From the way the bridge of Leon’s nose bumped against your swollen clit, to how you felt his stubble rubbing against your skin, to his mouth and tongue working you into knot after knot. Whatever it was, you were wound up far too tight at this point. Your fingers combed some of his hair out of his face to try and distract yourself from just how good it felt, body curling to rock back and forth with shaken moans. Any fear was gone, now you were riding his tongue like your life depended on it.

“Can tell you’re close.” His words were muffled against the flushed skin of your pussy and you could hear him taking a few quick breaths in. He was preparing himself to dive right back, to push you over the edge. But you knew what had a chance of happening whenever he went down on you and made you cum, to which you squirmed to try and get out of his hold. That was something you were really worrying about.

“Lee, no I can’t- god, fu-uck - what if-”

But he already knew exactly what you were trying to paw yourself away from, and instead of complying he dragged his hand over the one holding at your shirt. Wordlessly offering to take it for you. The other still sat on your thigh just below your ass, thumb brushing over the skin gently. Softly. Such a stark difference to the way he had you falling apart in his mouth.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Give it up for me.”

“But-”

Your concerns fell on deaf ears as you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan, feeling his tongue slip right back inside of you. Hunting down that angle that had you crying out, a sound sent straight from heaven that Leon was desperate to hear. Working back through his mind to map your body out all over again, indulging in every gasp and whine. When he found it he downright attacked it, putting every ounce of work into the muscle of his tongue until you snapped. And he got exactly what he wanted.

“Oh Christ- Shit, Leon!”

It fell right from that heaven Leon was imagining, fell in the form of something close to a sob with nothing to muffle the sound. Fingers too focused on gripping the silken sheets and his hand over yours, squeezing until your knuckles turned white. Cheeks flushed and mouth agape. Your hips jerking and shifting as you felt it hit you full force, felt everything draining from you in a rush of heat, a gush, one that had you panting heavily between soft gasps at the feeling of his tongue still on you. It had you clenching around his tongue, body rocking in a spasm. Leon was gratefully drinking up everything you gave him, with short hums bordering on growls while his hand squeezed your own. With one last low groan from his throat, you only now realised that Leon’s hips had been rutting up into the air to try and relieve his own tension. Simply eating you out could get him rock hard, that you knew, but he was definitely staining his boxers by now. He was always more of a pleasure dom anyway.

Your hand ran through his hair to draw him back to you, fingers combing through it loosely. You were fighting against involuntary whimpers to speak to him. “Baby, you should’ve said-”

Nope. He wasn’t having any of that, not when you’d given him all that he wanted. As soon as you started he was dragging your poor clit back into his mouth and giving it one harsh warning suck. A warning not to test him. That was enough to tell you plenty. You curled inwards with a hoarse-throated cry, completely overwhelmed with overstimulation as you clenched around nothing. “Okay! Okay, I got it, fuck!”

Satisfied with your response, he finished cleaning you up with his tongue the best he could. Listening to you squeal and whine against the back of your clenched fist during this was almost enough to get him hard again, but it had to be done. Once happy with his job, his large hands were easing you up off of his face and back to straddle his waist. It still shocked you just how simply he could move and manoeuvre you around.

You covered your face with your hands, heaving out a sigh that mixed with a tired giggle. You definitely should’ve trusted Leon’s instinct in the bedroom more often. “Oh my god my neighbours are gonna hate me.”

He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, swallowing down what was left of your arousal on his tongue thankfully. You peaked out from between your hands to get a good look at him.

He was nothing short of ecstatic, looking up at you with a cocky, toothed grin. Clearly you weren’t the only one who enjoyed that.

“I think it was worth it. You haven’t squirted like that in a while.”

“Shut up you jerk.” You grumbled. He could practically feel the heat from your cheeks, watching you pull the fabric of your shirt up to cover your face in embarrassment. All it took was riding his face once, and you were drenching him. He had to admit, he felt proud of himself.

“Aw, c’mon sweetheart. I’m flattered, really.”

“I’m sure you are.” The fabric was dropped in defeat, the bottom of the shirt once again pooling around your waist. Settling back into the situation after being dragged through heaven and back, you let your thumb brush over the scar on his face gently, his arms wrapped snug around you. You caught that glint in his hooded eyes, arching a brow with another chuckle. “Lee, you look drunk.”

He merely shrugged. “If you got what I just got, you’d feel drunk too. That was- god. We’re definitely doing that again.”

With a shake of your head and a smile, you were pushing his hair out of his eyes to lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’ll just see about that, pretty boy.”

#i’m down so fucking bad #random0lover smut reblog #random0lover fluff reblog #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon scoot kennedy x reader

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Note

Why are all my dream men not real 😭

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

This is so cute I had to share (the price one is my favorite)

Could you do any 141 member (I don’t really care I love them all) comforting civilian!reader while she’s on her period? Like the cramps, nausea, mood swings?

Thanks!

He winced as another pained groan left your lips.

“Pain killers didn’t help?” He frowned. He laid down behind you tucking you against him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, his hands pressing down on the heating pad against your stomach. The pressure made you feel better and you softly grabbed his hand and put it under the heating pad, silently asking him to massage your stomach. “I got you.” He pressed another kiss to your shoulder.

“Are you done with your paperwork yet?” You whined.

“Ya, Sweetheart.” He lied. The thought of leaving you alone to suffer on the couch made his stomach turn. “You rest up, now and I’ll fix us some dinner later, yeah?”

“Don’t leave till I fall asleep please.” You requested, scooting closer to him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He’s literally the dream partner when it comes to this stuff

He has always been a very nurturing person

He has your special week marked on his calendar so he’s never caught of guard if you snip at him or you wake up and need to change the sheets

When he can’t be with you he always ships a care package to your house with all the things you could possibly need (snacks, pads/tampons, medicine, a card saying how much he loves you)

He’s the best honestly

“Kid, open the door!” The door handle jiggling. You splashed cold water over your face trying to calm down, but no matter how hard you tried sobs wracked your body. You blamed the hormones. You and Simon were new in your relationship, about five months in, and you had just recently started spending the night at his place. You always had a plan for what to do if you got your period during the night but you didn’t plan for it to come almost a week early. You woke up feeling a familiar wetness and practically ripped yourself out of Simon’s arms. To make matters worse he had his thigh resting between your legs, meaning- you didn’t even want to say it. You shook the thoughts out of your head.

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” Simon sighed from the other side of the door. “You know what I do for a living, yeah? You think a little blood is gonna scare me off? I find that a bit offensive if I’m being honest.”

“It’s disgusting and embarrassing!” You shouted through your sobs.

“It’s not disgusting.” He shot back. “Whoever made you feel that way is a cunt. And it might seem embarrassing now, but I promise you in a week it’ll make you laugh. Out you come.” He shook the door handle again. He did make you feel better. “There she is.” He whispered. You looked him over, happy he had changed his sleep shorts. A clunky thumb wiped away a few remaining tears.

The man is completely unbothered

You can throw a whole hissy fit and he’ll just ask if you’ve eaten anything today

Bodily fluids don’t faze him at all- you could bleed, vomit and cry all over him and he’d just pat you on the back

He’s still doesn’t always understand how to take care of other people, so if you want/need him to do something all you have to do is ask

He never ever makes you feel bad/embarrassed about anything

“Si, you aren’t going to believe the blood clot that just came out of me.” “I’m proud of you Sweetheart.”

“I just can’t believe he did that to her!” You sobbed, wiping your eyes on your husbands shirt.

“What a bastard.” He growled, wiping a tear from his own eye. He wrapped an arm tighter around you, throwing a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth.

“Get off the screen!” You shouted, throwing a few pieces of popcorn at the TV.

“Ya, fuck off!” Johnny yelled after you tossing a few pieces as well. You both looked at each other before bursting into a giggle fit.

Every time you on your period it seems like Johnny also goes on his

You would think both of you being so emotional would cause problems, but it really makes you feel less alone

He definitely steals higher grade pain meds from the base to help you (Price caught him and started doing it for his own partner)

Absolutely loves to take warm showers with you

This man is also unfazed by bodily fluids ;)

Whenever you feel sick he is on the other side of the door cheering you on

You hated when you got your period and he wasn’t here. It always reminded you of how sucky life was before him and how much spoiled you are now. You pressed yourself deeper into his pillow, inhaling his scent. Your muscles relaxed slightly- but it was nothing compared to the real thing. The pain killers had yet to kick in and your body felt so hot and uncomfortable. Your ears piqued up when you heard the door open.

“Babe?”

“Ky!” You screeched. The ache in your stomach couldn’t stop you from running through the flat to greet him. “What are you doing here? Your not suppose to be home for another two weeks?” You questioned between both of you pressing kisses against each other.

“I can just stay for two days.” He sighed, scooping you up. “I told Cap you weren’t feeling well- and let’s just say being the favorite has its perks.”

If you thought Price was good wait till you meet Kyle He definitely learned it from Price

Total Princess treatment to the max

“Ky, I can tie my shoes.” “Don’t worry bout it love.”

He shows love through acts of service so this is his time to shine ✨

Has a stash of all your favorite snacks/drinks for when the time comes

He usually puts you between his legs and the two of you play video games for the next eight hours- distraction helps take you mind off of the pain

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random0lover · 1 year ago

Text

Me when I got to the last part

Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays.

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know.

You know too well.

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart.

“It’s fine.”

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away.

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath.

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head.

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together.

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again.

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth.

Too smooth.

It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success.

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark.

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing.

And then you burst into tears.

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight.

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial.

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue.

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert.

“Until someone called me a liar.”

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full.

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe.

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you.

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back.

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies.

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it.

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose.

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting.

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand.

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling.

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours.

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.”

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight.

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes.

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble.

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole.

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.”

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed.

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt.

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.”

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them.

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear.

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you.

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath.

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

“Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck.

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers.

“How was work?”

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this-

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face.

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak.

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood.

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh.

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts?

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern.

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch.

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind.

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment.

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing?

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair.

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”

#the emotions in my brain are screaming #sometimes I think it would be healthier for darling to move on #obviously she’s going through a lot and has been even before she met the boys #but then again she has created this attachment to them so I think it would almost be worse for her even if they all mutually decided it #would be best if they weren’t together anymore…#random0lover angst reblog #random0lover smut reblog #random0lover fluff reblog #peachesofteal #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader x ghost #john soap mactavish x you #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Text

A dream. Ghost & his little girl.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader one-shot (it's so fluffy I could die).

Simon would be a girl dad. You can't change my mind. Writing fluffy shit isn't my thing--I'm usually a very feral writer. Hope you enjoy this softness, don't get used to it, LOL. This is not proofed.

They have a very sweet moment and I could just DIE.

"Daddy."

Ghost stirs in his sleep. His large body took up a majority of the couch, long legs draped over the sides.

"Daddy!" Comes that tiny voice again.

He's in a state between conscious and completely knocked out. Everything is black, and the small voice echoes through the darkness. He groans when he feels a small weight press down on his chest. His large hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose. He breathes one sharp breath through his nostrils and huffs, feeling the weight on him shuffle around as his wide body moves under it.

"Momma, can you come get daddy up, please? He won't listen to me again." The small voice calls out into the darkness.

A tiny hand comes forward, balling into a fist and knocking gently on the skull part of his mask. He grunts in response. He's still struggling to open his eyes--but when he hears your voice, the sound of blood pumping through his veins starts to echo in the back of his head.

Slowly, his long lashes lift to reveal light. His brown hues are finding it hard to focus. He turns his head to the side slowly, away from the sunlight to help focus. When he's finally able to open them all the way, he sees you. There you are, leaning up against the doorway. A gentle smile caresses your cheeks as you cross your arms over your chest. Your hair is wet, sticking to your cheeks from a fresh shower. You're wearing one of his hoodies---it's massive on you, coming down past your knees like a dress. You've got no pants on, beautifully sculpted thighs free to dry in the fresh air.

There's something so majestic and beautiful about you when you're not covered head-to-toe in combat gear and weapons. Your gentle beauty reminds him exactly why he fell in love with you.

"Ana, honey. Let Daddy rest. He just got home." You say with sweetness dripping off your tongue. He'd never heard your voice in this tone before.

He watches you in silence as you lean off the wall and let your arms drop to your sides. You approach him slowly, and his head follows you. Your arms reach out above him, and he turns, looking up to see the little girl sitting atop his chest. She has light brown hair, much like his. But her eyes are the same color as yours. She's wearing jean overalls and a baby blue shirt underneath. Your hands come to wrap around her to pull her off him.

You bring her to rest on your side, arm under her butt to hold her steady.

She looks exactly like you.

He's motionless, fingers jerking slightly at his sides as he watches you. You bring a hand up to the girl's face to swipe a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Why don't you go grab him something to eat, hmm? He's probably hungry." You say softly.

The girl nods, and you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. Leaning down, you set her little feet on the ground, and the girl immediately takes off through the doorway.

Once she's gone, you turn to look down at him. That same gentle smile crosses your face, and you approach him slowly. His gaze follows your every move as you come to sit next to him on the couch. Your hand lays on his chest, gently rubbing fine circles with your palm.

"Sorry, love. She gets a little too excited when you come home." You say.

He breathes slowly, watching as your eyes search his. You rub his chest slowly, leaning in close to press your forehead to his mask. Ghost watches, still unable to move his body. His fingers twitch anxiously at his sides, desperately wanting to run through the softness of your damp hair.

You lean back up, hand coming to slip under the soft part of his mask. Gingerly, you pull it up to reveal his stubbled jaw and plump lips. His lipe part in anticipation as you lean forward and press your lips to his. You both moan together, relishing in this feeling.

"Simon--" you speak softly. Pulling away, you smile down at him. You speak his name again, and it sounds like heaven slipping from your lips.

"Simon--" you say again. Only this time, it's echoing like the girls voice was before. He watches you start to fade, darkness pulling all around him. His eyes widen as you slip from his point of view. His body is still limp, and he can hear his heartbeat.

"Simon--" he hears again, but it's a lot louder now.

He tries to say your name, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

"Simon. Wake up." He hears you say again. It's louder this time, and he can feel the cool skin of your hand on his mask. His eyes begin to open slowly, adjusting to the rising sunlight beaming in through the window.

He looks over to see you sitting on the floor next to him. He's lying on a small couch that's full of rips. When he looks around, he recognizes the same run-down shack he saw before he fell asleep last night. He sighs, closing his eyes. He brings his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose like he had in his dream.

"You okay?" You ask softly.

He glances over at you. Your small form is situated on the floor next to the couch. Your arm is resting atop his, and your fingers stroke him softly. Concern covers your features as you seek for his eyes. He looks down at your partially swollen belly and grunts.

"Why are you on the floor?" He asks sternly.

"I woke up about an hour ago. Didn't want to disturb you. You never sleep." You speak softly. A soft blush flushes over your cheeks as you look down, slightly embarrassed. "And...I'm getting sorta heavy. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You're fuckin' jokin' right?" He says.

You slowly look back up at him and shake your head.

"You're carrying my child--" he says, shifting to sit up on his arms. "--and you think I give a damn about how heavy you are?"

"I also got sick. So, didn't want to get it on you."

He cocks his head to the side, never taking his eyes off you.

"You should have stayed on base." He says, his voice coy and dark.

You watch him for a moment before looking down at your hand. It's resting on top of your small belly.

"I told you, Simon. Having this baby won't stop me from doing my job."

"Yeah, well, now you're not just riskin' your own life. You're risking our daughters life too."

You peer at him through your peripherals, face still blushed a bright pink.

"Daughter?" You ask softly.

He glances away from you towards the corner of the little shack.

"How you so sure it's a girl?" You ask.

He doesn't respond--doesn't even look back at you as he speaks. "I'm not. Just a feeling."

You watch him for a few minutes as he continues to stare into the corner.

"You want a daughter." You proclaim with a devious grin. Ghost grunts in response and turns to you.

"No. I do not. Having a daughter that looks like you would be trouble. I'll be chasing boys away until I'm dead. She'd never be allowed to date."

You laugh softly, hand slowly rubbing circles over your little belly. "I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

He grunts, turning his head to look at you once more. His eyes search yours for something as he contemplates his next words.

"What are we gonna do, kid?" He asks.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out as we go along." You say softly, head dipping to look down at your belly again.

Ghost shifts, sitting up on the couch. He leans down, his gloved hand taking the place of yours on that swollen belly. "You're dead set on continuing your career here after you give birth?" He asks softly.

When he found out you were pregnant, the first thing that came to mind for him was a home. For you to retire and take care of the kid. But that wasn't you. He offered to buy a house--a modest little cottage somewhere in America. Somewhere he knew you would both be safe. But you declined. This was your home, with him and the boys of 141.

"Whatever happens. I'm not giving up my post. My place is by your side. Out here." You speak softly.

Ghost watches you intently. "Love, you know you don't need to be by my side to--"

"I know--" you interrupt. "--you guys are my family. And you're the only life I've ever known."

He takes his hand from your belly to grab your chin, lifting you up to look at him.

"I really wish you would reconsider." He says.

"This baby has a family back home that already loves her. My dad--I know he'll step up. And my brothers--they will too. We'll come home as much as we can. Until this is settled. Until the word is a better place. Like we all agreed."

His thumb gently rubs the skin on your chin as he looks in your eyes.

"I already love her more than anything. She'll be cared for, I promise." You say softly, bringing your hand back down to rub your belly.

"Her, huh?" He asks, a hint of humor in his tone.

You smile a little, letting your eyes close. "I love the idea of a mini-me torturing you."

Ghost removes his hand from you, reaching up to lift his mask over his lips. He leans down, capturing your jaw in his grip again. He kisses you, slowly. His tongue grazes your lower lip when he bites down softly. When he pulls away, his nose brushes yours.

"I've thought of a name." He says.

"Yeah?"

"Ana."

#random0lover fluff reblog #this is so cute #I’ve turned into a pile of mush #my heart 🥹#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #task force 141 #mw2

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Text

Oh god I’m crying

This was so beautiful and sweet and I can honestly just imagine Melissa looking down smiling at them 🥺 it sucks that’s she couldn’t be there but I’m glad Amy has a loving family.

And the twins? I’ve always loved the idea of Simon being a twin dad and I’m so glad you did that, and their names are so cute! Naming them after some of the most important people in their life is so sweet and when soap ran and hugged Simon it made me laugh while I was crying 🥹

Getting to see Simon so happy and in love is just one of my most favorite things ever and honestly domestic 141 is literally the key to my heart right now.

But thank you for this absolutely beautiful story… I can honestly say that it’s one of my most favorite works I’ve ever read on this app and I can’t wait for the epilogue!

Oh and what we did to Keller? That was so fucking bad ass literally had me over here celebrating 🥳

And they were Rommates (ending)

warnings: EVERYTHING? MATURE CONTENT DEATH ALL OF IT.

this is an edning... the epilogue will be coming, and i'm working on the epub version.

The next few days were exhausting. Amy was going through a lot. She refused to do anything or go anywhere if she wasn't with you or Simon. You completely understood it. You had already decided to make an appointment with a therapist for her, hopefully helping her deal with her fear.

You had gone through some serious meetings, voicing out your anger. Hopkins was under investigation. His incompetence had to be stopped.

All the while at home it was a frenzy. You had moved into Simon's room, leaving your room to Amy. She had a hard time being alone, she'd often sleep in your bed with Simon, or you and Simon would have to rush to her bedroom in the middle of the night.

Price had offered to watch over her one night so you could rest, but it had been automatic. As soon as the little whimpering was heard, Simon had jumped off the bed, waking you up in the process. You instantly ran after him, quickly knowing what it was all about. Price had sighed, giving up, there was nothing keeping you and Simon away from the child.

She had become the center of your and Simon's attention. And the weeks passed. Time trying to heal the wounds. Amy had started therapy, it seemed to help a bit, she agreed to sleep in her new bedroom and as a compromise she knew that she could at any time join your room if she was scared. Simon had pouted, he adored being able to sleep with his two favorite girls.

As Amy started to accept her new bedroom, the boys had decided to start the makeover. Price and Simon had been extremely focused on it. The girl now had a princess room, pinks whites and drapes. Everyone had offered princesses dresses that she kept as a collection. It was during one of the moments where almost everyone was working in the bedroom that the little girl came to you to ask something.

"Y/N… i miss mama… do you think… she lookin at me?"

You felt a little pinch in your heart. You had remembered the funeral. A horrible moment for you and her. You'd still very often take her to Melissa's grave where you had decided to keep fresh flowers as often as possible.

"I know you miss mama. I miss her too… and I know… for sure, that she's looking over you. She's proud of you. I'm absolutely sure of it."

You had caressed her cheek, as she leant in, climbing to your lap to hug you.

The week passed, yes. And things slowly changed. Soap and Margo had decided to move in together, a house really close to yours. Konig and Grim were sharing an apartment two streets away. Price had asked Liz to move in with him, deciding that time wasn't worth wasting. Gaz had decided to move in with Richard and Aquila right in front, the three becoming quickly inseparable. The house felt a bit empty. Although they'd often pass by, at least three times a week and every weekend.

Amy had learnt about your pregnancy. First she looked really happy, excited even. For a few days she looked sad, you had tried to talk to her and had cried when she asked if you'd replace her with the new baby. You had of course comforted her, that she was part of the family and absolutely nothing would replace her.

She wouldn't call you mom. And you didn't want her to nor would you force her. You'd accept it if she desired to. But her mother was Melissa. You were aunty, Y/N, sparrow. And Simon was ghost, ghosty or Simon. It was perfect like this.

The pregnancy was going well. At 14 weeks, you had started to show quite well. Simon was obsessed with you. It was hard to keep your hands off of each other. Truly. Amy had accepted to go to the mall with the team, you had remained home with him.

You felt warm. Horny. And he kept looking at you possessively, as if you were the most precious delectable thing on earth.

"Simon… you're staring." You teased, feeling how wet you were.

"How could I not? You're stunning. I want to make you mine…" he growled, slowly stepping towards you.

You had frowned, looking at your swollen stomach before teasing him again.

"Wait. Didn't you already?"

You had giggled as he tackled you softly on the couch, kissing you deeply. You had moaned very quickly.

"What was that? Do you want me darling?" He took his chance to tease you back.

You whined, kissing again, tasting him and moaning. Clothes were long gone, pulling and scratching to finally feel the skin to skin. It was more than a craving. It was a necessity, a comfort. It felt intense. Passionate.

"Simon please…"

He had chuckled. He still loved teasing you. He'd finger you slowly. Lowering himself to drop soft kisses to your belly, making you giggle through moans. Kisses traveled to your tender breast, mouth licking and sucking at your sensitive nipples.

"Simon..!" You whined again.

"So impatient…" he chuckled.

"Don't tease a pregnant woman!" You pouted.

"My apologies…" he added with a grin.

He positioned himself in between your legs, tip playing with your clit, making you moan more, desperation creeping on you.

"You alright?"

You nodded, biting your lip, feeling the tip at your entrance, slowly pushing in. You felt amazing, the stretch and fullness almost immediately responding to your raging hormones. Simon's groans and grunts only added to your desperation. He was slow, deep. He'd rarely fuck you roughly now, too scared to hurt you or the baby, thought he'd be glad to give in if you felt comfortable enough. Hands on him, lips dancing, you felt yourself wanting to cry at the intensity of your pleasure. He softly wiped the tears, dropping kisses to your cheeks, and neck.

"Lieutenant…"

You were close. So close. It edged you, torturing you. He increased the pace, feeling himself get closer and closer.

"Fuck… so pretty… round with my baby…"

God… he was so proud of it. You felt it, in the way he fucked, kissed you, gazed upon you.

"You're mine … all mine."

You were. Eternally. Foreheads touching, you felt yourself ready to burst.

"Are you going to cum… huh? You gonna cum with me baby?"

You whimpered, tears streaming. Close. So close.

"Fuck… mine. All mine…" he growled.

"Simon… ple…please… gonna… cuuum.."

"Cum for me… cum with me… fuck… marry me…"

Tipping over the edge, orgasm hitting you like an avalanche, you were exactly sure you heard it. You felt him cum, lips biting your neck softly, making sure to leave a mark.

Your high was slowly coming down, panting and heart stammering. He braced himself not to fall on you, but he remained hidden in your neck. You smiled to yourself. He probably was mortified to have asked it, especially like that.

"Yes …" you let out through your panting.

He had slowly gotten up, looking at you, wide eyed.

"Yes. I'll marry you." You added.

He had smirked, letting out a small laugh.

"Fuck yes. Miss Riley."

You had joined him in his laugh, loving looks and kisses making you melt into each other.

The news had spread like a wildfire. Everyone was already battling for a place in the wedding party. Simon had lost patience, threatening that you'd elope if they kept bickering. You were impatient. You wanted it. He had noticed it. You had walked home one day, after a shopping session with Liz and bishop that cornered you to buy a dress. Walking into the garden to a surprise wedding. Flowers and fairy lights. Amy ran to you, white little princess dress, Simon in a suit. You almost fell out of place until bishop had reminded you of the dress you had bought. It wasn't a wedding dress, but it was stunning and comfortable. And you were heavily pregnant.

Simon had teared up, Kate had walked you down to him, Price patting him in the back. To your biggest surprise, all your friends were officing. Apparently they had all decided to get certified and marry you. You had cried. Simon simply looked at you like you were the world. Everything. And you looked at him like he was your hero, the rest of your existence.

Amy was thrilled to bring the rings, the kiss making everyone cheer. Madame Riley. Miss Riley. Simon kept whispering it to you. Like a prayer. Trying to realize it.

The whole base knew by morning. Soap really couldn't shut up. But god did it make you happy to hear the recruits greet you with a 'good morning Miss Riley'.

Your next ultrasound was scheduled early, Price and Amy coming with you as Simon had to be on base. He had pouted all week for not being able to go, you had promised to come see him immediately after.

The nurse walked in as you laid down on the table. Price sat next to you on a chair, Amy on his lap.

"Well, good afternoon, Miss Riley. How are you feeling?"

"Swollen. Huge. But I'm fine." You joked.

"Well, it should be soon!"

You frowned.

"Soon? I'm only in my second trimester."

He frowned too before relaxing.

"Oh, well every pregnancy is different. Sometimes the babies like to be comfy."

"Are you saying I'm too big?" You teased, a hint of annoyance.

The cold gel made you shiver. The ultrasound started, everything was fine until the nurse froze, eyes squinting at the screen.

"Is something wrong? If there's something wrong, tell me. Now." You panicked.

"It's hum… it's nothing bad. Don't worry. But I have to check something with the doctor alright?"

Price rose, Amy in his arms, stepping closer to you.

"Price…" you looked at him, worry in your voice.

"It's alright. Breathe. Don't start panicking, it's probably nothing." He said, a warm signature smile on his lips.

The doctor had walked in, greeting you, taking his turn on the ultrasound.

"Alright… so. Here." He started pointing at the screen. "We can see a head, and here… is a second head."

You blinked. What?

"Two? Twins?" Price asked.

"Exactly. Which would explain why you look so far along. It explains your recent blood test as well. It seems to be fraternal twins."

"What… does that mean?" You frowned.

"They don't share a placenta. They're not identical twins." He explained with a smile.

You let out a breath you were holding. It was nothing. Just twins. JUST TWINS?!

"OH GOD…PRICE."

He chuckled, Amy understood the situation and she cheered, so happy that two babies were joining the family.

The way to base was a rush of anxiety. How were you going to break the news to Simon? How was he going to react?

"Y/N. Calm down love. It's going to be alright." Price said with a soothing voice.

You took a deep breath. It was going to be ok.

The team was already waiting when Price parked the car. Everyone was there, Kate included.

You had stepped out of the car, getting Amy from her car seat as she wiggled in your arms, impatient to run to Simon. Price stood next to you, winking at you before turning towards the team with you. Yes. Breaking the news. Amy ran to Simon, screaming, screeching like an adorable banshee.

"THERE'S TWO BABIES!!!"

Price burst out laughing as you closed your eyes, absolutely hating Soap for spending so much time with Amy and Tyler. You opened them back when the team let out surprised happy noises while Simon looked at you with wide eyes, Amy already climbing out of his arms to run to Tyler. You walked to him as he stepped towards you.

"Two? Two babies?" He repeated.

"Yes… twins… " you answered with a comforting smile.

He looked panicked. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped. Price cleared his throat, gaining his attention.

"Simon. Your wife is waiting for you to say something."

"Hum… yes. It's very good news. Of course darling… will… will I be up to the task?" He said, worried.

"Oh… Simon. Of course. We'll be together…I'm scared too…" you confessed.

"You don't need to. Look around you two." Price added.

The team looked at you.

"There's a whole village with you. You're not alone." He concluded.

He was right. You weren't alone. Not one second. Simon seemed to relax. He held you in his arms, close to him.

"You're amazing bunny… simply amazing… I'm in awe at you…" he whispered.

You blushed, biting your lip.

"We're going to make it… it'll be fine." You whispered back.

"Damn LT… two right in the first try… you need to stop the caffeine." Soap joked.

Simon groaned, slowly turning his head to soap to send him a death glare as the team burst out laughing.

Two babies. If the team was already obsessive with your pregnancy before now it was a hundred times worse. You couldn't catch any alone time. Picking up something wasn't even possible, gaz or soap or Liz running to help you.

"I am not handicapped!" You snapped.

You were closely watched. The pregnancy wasn't too risky but perhaps the fear that something might happen to lieutenant Riley's wife and babies was enough to set the whole base alight. It was definitely enough to have two doctors following the pregnancy and check-in on you regularly.

You were getting pissed. Annoyed. You wanted to breathe a bit. The weeks passed, the first kicks that had Simon glued to you, feeling each little push of your belly. You'd find him close to your stomach, whispering to the two little beings inside.

In the middle of your third trimester, stress and anxiety mixed with impatience. Simon was running around preparing the nursery, price and soap helping. Causing Simon to often get annoyed at the Scottish man.

You also had let your nerves get the best of you.

"No! I'm going to the park with Amy and Riley. And I do not need a babysitter. That's enough!"

"But… Y/N…" gaz tried.

"Gaz. You're a sweetheart, but I will snap at the next person who doesn't let me wash the dishes or GET A CUP OF WATER ON MY OWN."

He had nodded as you finally sighed.

"Sorry…"

"I understand. You need some time to breathe. It's probably stressful already without having us smoldering you at all times." He said with a smile.

You sniffed, nodding a bit.

"Alright, alright. But be careful, keep your phone on you."

You rolled your eyes but agreed.

Taking Amy to the park was a good moment to rest your mind. Amy enjoyed running around and playing with the rest of the children. A small cafe had an open terrasse, right in the children's playground for children's parents. You hummed at the chocolate cake in front of you and juice in your cup. You glanced at Amy running around, Riley had decided to remain with her, keeping an eye on her.

You phone vibrated, grabbing your attention. Kate was calling.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Where are you?" She asked in a rush.

"Calm down. I'm at the park with Amy." You answered slightly annoyed.

"Y/N. Keller is on base. He's here to grab the rest of his stuff." She let out, worried.

You sighed. Would you ever be at peace?

"I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm in public, the idiot won't try anything. If he does, he won't get far." You answered.

"I'm sending Simon and Price to you." She warned.

"Fine!" You let out, hanging up.

Her phone call was a premonition. A warning that would foreshadow him. You looked up as Keller walked to you, taking the seat in front of you, cup in front of him.

"So he knocked you up huh?" He spoke with a disgusted grin on his lips.

You smiled. You were oddly relaxed. Yes.

"Indeed. Twins. A boy, and a girl." You stated as if you were talking to a long lost friend.

"You ruined my life. My career."

"You did all the work. I have no credit." You answered, taking a bite of the cake. God it was amazing you had been craving it for the last hour.

"I'm not going to let you get away with it!"

You chuckled. Looking intensely behind him, making him look back. Perfect timing.

"Listen Keller. I'm going to give you one chance. To walk away." You said, steady, threatening tone. He turned back to you.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should. Especially now. I'm pregnant. With Amy. Alone. And you're trying to threaten me. It's possibly the stupidest thing you could do."

"And what are you going to do? Throw cake at me? I'm too close to you. No one will manage to help you on time." He took a long gulp of his drink.

"I'm not the one who needs help. Long ago you treated me like an enemy. You know what I'm capable of. Especially after everything I've been through. I grew." You said.

He frowned. Confused.

"Let me explain it to you." You started, cleaning your hands on your napkin. "You know. At first, I was all alone. Kept in a little cage, where Kate would come see me once in a while. I'd go to base, where people would be weary of me. Too far from the people I once knew.

I've gone through a lot. I lost, I loved. I met him.

He walked into my life with that skull mask like an actual ghost." You laughed softly to yourself

"It was hard. But it was worth it. He was worth it. He became everything to me. The way he loves me… is beyond what I'd ever deserve. He ran in, with his team behind him and nested in my heart where I gladly kept them there. I wasn't lonely anymore. And I was lucky enough to be loved by him.

He became everything you know?" You inquired like this was a perfectly normal conversation.

"He is my morning, noon, and night… the smile, the cries. He made me queen of his realm and I turned him into my god.

I lost so. DAMN. Much." Anger coated your voice now.

"I still remember her laugh every time I see that little girl run around." You turned your head to watch Amy play with the neighborhood's kids. Keller opened his mouth to say something but you quickly interrupted.

"You better let me finish." You threatened.

"I have been through so much shit. You've beat me up. I was kidnapped. Almost killed. I lost him for a split second and it was the most painful thing I've ever had to live. I've lost Melissa, taken in that little girl. I… I got pregnant." Your voice is laced with something you didn't ever expect to experience in your life. Your hand stroked the roundness of your belly where two little souls were aching to meet the world.

"Tell me Keller." You asked. "Do you think that after all of this… after all I've gone through… the betrayal by the people of this base who should have kept it safe, I'd walk around… with my precious Amy, pregnant, without safety?"

"Ha… you talking about that dog?" He chuckled darkly looking at Riley who laid near the playground watching Amy.

You chuckled darkly as well.

"Oh no… no. I've realized that I can't bear to lose them. My family. So. How's that drink of yours?" You grinned.

He looked taken aback before suddenly opening his eyes wide.

"You know, a woman created a poison, completely untraceable, she sold it in a bottle of perfume for women who wanted to kill their abusive husbands. Of course. It took a while to figure out the recipe, it was so many decades ago, but… I got it. I've decided I won't let anyone else threaten me and my family. Ever. " Your eyes had filled with a determination, a will that promised raging wars and death.

"Y/N!" You heard.

You smiled, glancing back. Simon rushed to you, Price and Liz not too far.

"Hi my love." You greeted him, with a soft smile.

"Are you alright?!" He worried, glancing darkly at Keller.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." You smiled up at him, hugging his hand.

"What did you give me?!" Keller panicked, his face growing red.

"I gave you warnings. I gave you a chance. And you decided to ignore them." You finally said, standing up. You dropped some money on the table, the waitress not too far.

"Miss… I think you should call the med bay. The gentleman seems to be having an allergic reaction." You faked a worried voice.

You called on Amy, Riley following her as she ran to you. Simon held you to him walking back to the rest of the team.

"What happened?"

"He tried to threaten me. I decided I had enough. I have too much to lose to be a little bird." You explained, a wide smile on your face.

He picked up Amy, hugging her tightly. He had a wicked grin under his mask.

"That's my wife."

You were unsure of what happened to Keller. Kate had kept it secret from you and you hadn't tried to search. You didn't care. It was too close to your due date, and you felt like you'd explode any second. It made you irritable. Very. The only ones who seemed to be perfectly safe from it were Amy and Price. Poor Simon tried his best to soothe your anger bursts, and he mostly managed.

You paced around, restlessly. You remembered how the doctor said walking would help with the labor. You wanted them out. Without offending the babies, you wanted them out.

"Darling, breathe. You'll tire yourself." Simon spoke from the kitchen, making the rest of the team chuckle.

"Tell your kids to get out then. I feel like a whale. My feet are swollen and I constantly need to pee." You said with annoyance.

"If they're as stubborn as you, you might have to wait a little while." He teased.

You wanted to laugh, but the annoyed part of you also wanted to flip him off.

"Listen here Simon Riley, this is your fault because you can't keep your hands to yourself and wear protection, so God help me I-"

It felt wet. Very. You gasped, the room turning silent. Amy let out a 'ew' as soap let out a little 'i'm gonna be sick…'.

You straightened yourself, taking a deep breath. Simon was frozen, wide eyed, awaiting for orders.

"Simon, please get the bags. Price, could you drive us to the hospital? I'm unsure my husband is responding to outside stimulus right now."

"Absolutely, let's go."

The way to the hospital was chaos. The entry to the hospital was chaos. Squad 141 and your team, Amy, and Tyler running around Kate showed up to a wreck of a waiting room.

"Ok every one shut it." Kate ordered. "First of all if you want to stay here, all of you, you better behave. Y/N my love, we got you a private room upstairs, the team can wait in a secluded area, but only if you want to." She said in a much softer voice.

You felt the begining of contractions. You winced.

"They can stay. But please be quiet." You let out through gritted teeth.

It took hours. Hours and hours. The more time passed, the more tired you felt. Simon had gone into a full panic. Kate and bishop tried to reassure him, first pregnancies could take time.

"Simon…" you tried through pain.

He rushed to your side, holding your hand.

"I'm ok, calm down… listen… I need you to go get the nurses…"

"What?!"

"No, calm down… the baby… one of them… is coming. Right. Now."

He gasped before rushing out in panic to call… pretty much the whole hospital.

An hour later. You were finally able to witness the father of your children, hugging the little babies against him. He had taken his mask off, looking at your children with wonder and love.

You were exhausted. It has been painful… exhausting. But fuck it was worth it.

"We haven't found any names yet Simon…" you whispered.

He looked up. Smiling brightly at you.

"Oh my bunny… you did amazing… you're my warrior… anything you want, anything."

You smiled to yourself rolling your eyes.

"I'm serious. Look. Fuck… look. You gave me everything. You've made me the happiest man alive… before I stepped into that appartement, hating the fact I had to share a living space. Falling face to face with a little bunny like girl…"

You chuckled.

"I thought I was done. Just a soldier. A ghost. Killer, torturer… a monster not worth loving. You took me, loved me, showed me sympathie… you've… handled me through my bullshit… fuck. You gave me a chance. You've shown me I wasn't alone… I had a family, you gave me beautiful babies… I owe it all to you."

Tears burned your eyes as if you hadn't cried enough.

"Simon… I Love you. More than anything. Thank you… for giving me a home." You whispered.

"I love you. To hell and back."

You chuckled.

"So… names?" You tried again.

"Anything my love, tell me what you have in mind."

You smirked.

"Well…"

The next day, the team was allowed to visit. Simon had forbidden them to even try to come by during the first 24h real hours.

"Hiiii!" Soap half yelled.

"Shhuuuuuu" the group said.

A little 'sorry' was heard from the poor boy. The babies were laying in their little cribs, both sleeping. Everyone surrounded them, Simon immediately standing to a protective stance. Amy in Price's arms stared in awe at the babies.

"Amy, my monkey…"

Price walked to you, dropping the little girl on the bed next to you. She hurried to hug you.

"How are you my little monkey, you enjoy spending time with grandpa? I'm sorry you had to stay-"

"It's ok, I had fun with grandpa and soap! They played princesses with me" she said with a big smile.

"What do you think of the babies?" You asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I'm really happy… I have two little cousins. They're cute." She said, eyes gleaming.

"I'm really happy my love… I hope you know that you'll always be my little monkey."

"I know" she hugged you tight.

"Soap, keep touching their little hats and I'll punch you." You heard Simon.

"Simon… it's alright" you scolded.

"I wasn't playing with them, I was putting it back carefully." Soap whined.

"So how's the mama?" Bishop and Kate walked to you.

"Tired… but in bliss." You said with a smile.

Small talk was started, hushed voices and whispers to make sure the babies remained in a peaceful slumber. Until the question was finally dropped.

"So… what's the name of these angels?" Liz asked.

Simon looked at you, from where he stood, arms crossed, near the babies. He walked to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

"Well… we would like to introduce to you. Aria Kate Riley. And Eli John Riley."

Time stood still, silence filling the room. Soap suddenly let out a cry.

"Are you crying sergeant?" Kyle asked immediately.

Soap rushed to Simon, holding him in a tight hug. Simon looked at you before you threw him a knowing look. He patted soap's back.

Soap let go, turning to Price.

"They named him after us."

"Yes sergeant I've noticed." Price answered, emotion betraying his own voice.

Bishop grabbed soap so Price could go hug Simon and kiss your forehead.

Kate sat on the bed next to you. She threw a soft smile your way, earning a smile from you.

"I am proud of you." She said.

"Thank you. And… thank you, for bringing him into my life." You answered, with a knowing look.

"I don't know -"

"Kate. No one would have agreed to get me a roommate. No one. You pushed it. You chose him… probably with Price."

She looked down.

"Thank you. Really."

You turned to look at the new bickering near you. You sighed of content. Amy in Simon's arms, looking over your babies. The rest of the team surrounding them or you.

Home. It felt like home.

Simon looked at you, eyes gazing into you. Those beautiful eyes. His dirty blond hair and little scars. You remembered the first time he walked into your apartment, skull mask and duffle bag over his shoulder. You remembered the first breakfast you shared together. The first games. The first painful goodbyes and the way he saved you from Keller. You remembered it all. How everything slowly built itself to this moment.

"I love you." The words escaped your mouth, forgetting the room, the people. Silence won. Only his voice resonated.

"Oh bunny… I love you."

-----

Thank you.

#random0lover fluff reblog #random0lover smut reblog #random0lover rambling ♡#and they were roommates #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost cod #domestic task force 141 #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #König #pregnant reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

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random0lover · 2 years ago

Text

This part literally had me all soft and mushy with Price being such a big sweetheart catering to Canary 🥹

With everything Canary has been through she definitely deserves it but the ending??? A cliff hanger 😭

Price better know that Canary loves him and that she isn’t just using him… these parts always kill me because I know the next part is going to rip my fragile heart out and stomp all over it and I don’t know if I can handle that

Me preparing for the next part

viii. but i can't help falling in love with you

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Warnings: bruises, injury, medical inaccuracies, blood, scars, scar mention, talks of abuse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

“Everything about it says it was just a random break-in—”

Price hums, clearly not happy with the answer.

“—the guy’s prints weren’t in the system, and he didn’t have any affiliated markings or tattoos,” Ghost continues, hands gripping tight around the back of Soap’s chair.

“We asked around on our ends,” Alejandro sighs, gesturing between himself and Valeria. “No one recognizes him.”

“We haven’t heard anything either, but I have Ayah keeping a lookout for anything new,” Farah adds from Price’s left side, trying to add some small amount of comfort to a clearly upset Price.

“It was probably some guy looking to score,” Kyle reasons from the chair across her. The dining room lapses into silence as Price sits in thought, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his bicep.

“We should ask the bird,” Nik cuts in. “If it’s someone she knows, this could be a targeted attack against her, not the club.”

“Let her sleep,” Price says, leaving no room for argument. Nik gives him a questioning look but nods and stays silent.

“We could keep a set of eyes on the hotel for a few weeks, see if anyone comes lookin’ around?” Soap suggests.

“We can’t spare anyone right now,” Ghost huffs. “Not with the way things are.”

“But—”

A soft knock draws the room’s attention to the door leading to the sitting room.

It’s the worst anyone has seen you look. Dressed in leggings and a maroon sweater that’s a little big on you, you look exhausted and run-down, with deep purple bruises lining your neck.

“He-ey—” you croak out, wincing as you give a haggard cough.

Rudy’s on his feet immediately, guiding you to the closest chair, the one directly opposite Price’s seat at the head of the table. He sits you down as you try to clear your throat.

“I told you, no talking,” he chides, gently tilting your head back to lightly press his fingers against the bruises, just like he had when Price brought you here last night. You sigh through your nose, giving a quick sorry in sign language.

“How are you feeling?” Alejandro asks. You open your mouth to answer and shut it promptly when Rudy sends you a warning look. You shuffle, reaching into the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone.

You type for a quick second before your phone chimes, and a robotic voice answers for you, “Like I almost got choked out by a man twice my size.” That earns you a few chuckles, though Price looks less than amused.

You type again, a quiet beat before the voice in your phone asks, “What did you do with him?”

There are a few glances around the table, most landing on Price as if they’re unsure whether they’re allowed to answer.

“He’s taken care of. No need to worry,” Price answers. You nod, trying not to hit Rudy’s fingers with your chin.

“Did you…recognize him at all?” Roach asks. “Maybe you’ve seen him around the hotel or…?”

“Roach,” Price warns.

“It’s a fair question,” Nik scoffs. “We need to know if this was random or if someone’s going after her.”

They go back and forth while you type, waiting for a lull in their argument to answer. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but from what I saw, I don’t recognize him.”

“And…do you have anyone who might be after you? An old co-worker? Friend?” Valeria presses.

You swallow tightly, fingers hesitating over your phone. Rudy catches that, pulling back from you to give you a curious look.

“Canary?” Rudy asks softly, his quiet voice loud in the room's silence. “Is someone after you?”

It’s too late to lie now.

Think, think, think.

You type again, “The cops? The ones who interrogated me when I covered for you after Hasan. They seemed pretty mad, and they knew where I was staying.”

You give your best worried look, setting your phone down to fidget and pick at your nails.

“That could explain why we didn’t find anything on him,” Alex says, looking at Price.

“Shepherd wouldn’t risk one of his guys like that,” Kyle disagrees. “Especially not to go after someone who’s barely involved with our business. No offense, Canary.”

“None taken,” you sign, giving a casual shrug.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Farah sighs. “Can you ask Kate to check around and see if she can find anything on her end?”

Price, silent until this point with his eyes fixed on you, takes a deep breath. He sits up in his chair, the room lapsing into a tense silence as everyone looks toward him.

“Rudy, how’s her neck?” Price asks.

“Still swollen, but it looks like it’s going down,” Rudy answers before turning to you. “You’ll have to take it easy for at least a week. Minimal talking and no singing.”

You give him a salute and a thumbs up.

“I’ll call Kate and see if she finds us any information,” Price sighs. “We’ll close the club tonight while the rest of you find out what you can and put out feelers—see if any of the other families are trying to branch out. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Price stands, and the others follow suit, taking their leave with gentle goodbyes and smiles aimed toward you.

“König, hang back a second,” Price calls as he walks to your end of the table and takes the seat next to you, pulling the chair closer to fit you between his spread legs. König nods, lingering near the door as Price gently traces his finger along the bruises on your neck.

“Any news from Majka?” Price asks quietly.

“Nothing yet. Conor said he’d let me know if he heard anything,” König answers. Price nods, a brief flash of disappointment across his face.

“Okay, thank you. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” König says, giving you a nod before leaving the room.

The room sinks into a comfortable silence as Price looks over the purple and blue of your neck. He’s as gentle as possible, fingertips barely ghosting over the swollen skin.

“How are you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he pulls his fingers away to slide his along your cheek and cup your jaw. You set your hand over his, squeezing softly with a small smile.

You shrug half-heartedly, trying to reassure him without talking, lest you incur Rudy’s wrath.

He nods in understanding, leaning forward to kiss your head softly. When he pulls away, you lean forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Gaz and Roach brought your things over last night. You can pick whichever room you want, and we’ll move your stuff there,” Price says, perching his head on top of yours with a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back.

You reach for your phone, keeping yourself attached to him as you type, “The room I was in last night…?”

“My room,” Price chuckles.

You pull back to look up at him questioningly, tilting your head. “Then where did you sleep?”

“In one of the spare rooms,” he shrugs. “We got done late, and you needed the rest.” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in disappointment.

“If you like the room that much, you’re welcome to it,” Price teases.

You narrow your eyes, glaring playfully at him before you type out your answer, a smirk on your face as your phone says, “I’d prefer the room with you in it.”

Price’s brows raise as he smiles down at you, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to after what happen—”

You set a hand on his chest to stop him. Setting your phone down, your hand slides up to rest on his cheek, gently pulling him closer and closer until you’re barely centimeters apart.

“You make me feel safe,” you rasp before you move forward and close the gap.

For a brief moment, Price stills, and anxiety rockets through you at the thought you’ve overstepped.

You move to pull away, and he lunges, warm hands coming up to frame your face as he kisses you with a year’s worth of bubbling tension finally boiling over.

You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding.

Safe.

Living with John is suspiciously easy.

It feels as if you've known each other for years, and that same familiarity extends to the rest of the club.

You remember nights with your father as a child, listening to him tell you old war stories from his chair while you took and apart and cleaned his guns in front of the warm fireplace. Those memories bring a fondness to your heart that you always thought was the peak of what familial love was meant to be, but it’s nothing compared to your life in the manor.

Dinners with Kyle, Farah, and Alex are filled with laughter and teasing and almost always made by you and John. There’s no tense silence as everyone picks at their plates, no stilted conversation about business and only business, no large work dinners that force you to parade around in an uncomfortably tight dress while you serve your guests.

When Soap and Ghost stay the night, you sometimes run with Soap in the mornings, turning morning exercise into a friendly competition. There’s no pushing on his end, no yelling at you to pick up the pace, or warnings about falling behind. It’s all encouragement and jokes and teasingly elbowing each other as you walk the rest of the way back to the house.

Sometimes Ghost joins you instead, the two of you enjoying a quiet run around the property. He indulges you in the few questions you have about the flowers you find. The answers are short, as you expected, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable about the flora around the manor and has a cute eagerness to his voice when he explains a flower’s meaning to you.

After a month, Nik finds you one afternoon, grinning at you as he wipes the black grease from his hands onto his overalls. He leads you to the garage, where he shows off the extensive collection of cars he’s worked on, both classic and modern, and tells you to take your pick. You try to assure him you don’t need anything more than your beat-up car—it may be falling apart, but it’s wormed its way into your heart.

“That’s fine, but you’ll have to drive something else while I fix up your piece of shit,” he tells you. It’s then that you notice the back of the garage where his workshop is set up, and he’s got your broken baby up on a lift with the tires taken off.

So, you pick a new one—something practical, efficient, and baby blue—and thank Nik when he tosses you the keys.

Alejandro visits often, mostly to talk with John about happenings with the club, but he always makes a point to find and say hello to you. Sometimes, Rudy or Valeria will join him. When Rudy does, he checks in with you, asking how you’re feeling and making sure your throat isn’t bothering you anymore before joining John and Alejandro. When Valeria visits, she skips out on business talk entirely, insisting on taking you out to go shopping or see the city.

“There’s no point in sitting through a bunch of information Alejandro will tell me about later,” she laughs with a dismissive wave.

You don’t see König or Roach at the house much, and when you do, it’s usually late at night, just as they're leaving John’s office. John never tells you what they come for, but he’s always a little more tense after their visits.

You don’t know how to describe John. The best fitting word that comes to mind is welcoming.

He lets you have half the space in his massive walk-in closet, even though you barely have enough clothes to take up one of the shelves. He has you pick one of the spare bedrooms, telling you to redecorate it and turn it into whatever you want. You’re allowed anywhere in the house, save for the few rooms belonging to the other club members, to do anything you want.

The freedom is almost overwhelming.

When he senses your hesitance, he assures you that he wants you to feel at home, that this space is as much yours as it is his.

You let yourself explore over the weeks but do your best to stay out of the way of club business; it’s not that you’re not curious, you just…don’t want to know, don’t want to be involved in the stress of it all.

You’ve dealt with that enough in your life. It’s a new era for you, and you’re determined to hold on to it for as long as you can.

When Rudy gives you the okay to perform again, you nearly tackle him in a hug. Even if it’s only for the first half of the show, you’ll take what you can get.

Farah switches out with you during intermission, and you head for the bar, where Alex already has a stool open for you.

“Feel good to be back?” he asks, smiling wide as you take your seat.

“It feels amazing,” you laugh. He slides you a glass of water, briefly turning to tend to another patron.

Someone clears their throat behind you, tapping you on your shoulders. There’s a dull thrum of pain, but you ignore it and spin in your seat to find König staring down at you.

“Boss wants you upstairs,” is all he says before turning and walking away.

…okay?

You finish your water, giving Alex a quick wave before heading to the club’s second floor.

You pass a few private game tables, not finding John at any of them, and head towards the few closed-off rooms.

You don’t need to guess which one he’s in when you turn the corner and find Ghost standing guard outside the door.

“Everything okay up here?” you ask as you approach.

“Nothing unusual,” Ghost gives a slight shrug, his shadowed eyes flitting about the hallway.

“Then, mind if I…?” You point to the door behind him. He nods, taking a step to the side to let you through.

The room is dark, low-lit, and filled with cigar smoke and laughter. You make your way through the haze to the poker table at the center of the room, where John sits with Nik and a few other men you’ve never seen before. A couple of them have women with them, barely dressed and making more effort to distract the other players than paying attention to their companions.

Something tightens in your chest, fight or flight buzzing around the back of your mind.

Sitting in a dark room, shoved in a barely-there dress, put on display to distract the other players. The threat of being left to wolves should you fail looming over you.

John wouldn’t that to you.

He’s not the same as—

“There she is!”

John reaches out to grab your hand as soon as you’re near and kisses the inside of your wrist.

“Care to join us?” John asks, staring up at you with a look of adoration that sends a shock of straight want down your spine. “Could use my good luck charm.”

Nik barks out a laugh, “With the way you’re playing, you need more than luck.”

“You don’t have to,” John murmurs, while the others are too busy with their laughter and jokes.

The softness in his voice puts your anxiety at ease. Of course, he’d never force you to be somewhere you didn't want to be.

“Why not?” you shrug, smiling as he tugs you forward and pulls you down to sit across his lap. A hand settles around your waist, a soft kiss pressed along the curve of your neck, and the cards are dealt.

You watch while they play, bets higher than anything you’d be comfortable with. They’re pretty good, but you’ve spent a lot of time around poker tables and even more time around liars. You wait until the final community card is flipped, and the man directly across from you—the last one left in the game against John, older with dark, greying hair—blinks three times and makes his bet before you lean into John as if to kiss his neck.

“He’s bluffing,” you whisper, following it with a kiss before you straighten up. John doesn’t acknowledge you, blank face trained on his cards, but you feel a small squeeze of your hip where his hand rests.

John calls, and the two reveal their hands. It’s not even close, your observation correct, as John wins by a landslide.

He presses an appreciative kiss to your shoulder. You catch Nik smirking at you, and you wink back at him.

The game continues well into the night, and you don’t leave your place in John’s lap. The two of you take it easy, letting John lose a few games while still winning a majority. You play the part, batting your eyes at the others with a flirty smile so they think nothing more of you than John’s arm candy while you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck and whisper hints in his ear.

By the time they call it quits, the left side of his neck is covered in your lipstick, but he’s a few hundred-thousands richer.

“Quite the good luck charm you have there, Price,” one of the men next to Nik—red-headed with one of the scantily dressed women pressed against his arm—laughs, drinking you in with a leer that sets you on edge. “Maybe next time, I’ll try her out.”

John laughs, but you can feel how hard he tenses beneath you.

“She’s spoken for, I’m afraid,” he says with a polite smile, pressing you just a bit tighter against him.

“Sure,” the man laughs before turning to mumble to the others, “Must be all that good luck she’s rubbing off on him,” The others laugh along, save for Nik, who focuses on gathering the cards on the table.

“Go wait outside for me, Dove,” Price speaks quietly. You nod, standing from his lap.

You lean down to kiss him on the cheek before smiling to the table. “You girls want something to drink? It’s on me!” The three women glance at each other before noticing the tension rising in the room and nodding. They follow you out, and you direct them toward the bar before turning to Ghost.

“You might wanna head in there,” you tell him. He nods, waiting until you’ve turned down the hall to go inside.

You spend the next hour with the women at the bar, having a fantastic time as they drink and dance and tell you all about how awful their men are in hilarious detail, probably having their first taste of freedom in a while.

You understand. You’ve been there before.

They leave for a fifth dance, and this time you decline, far too exhausted to keep up with them.

As soon as they’ve disappeared into the crowd, you let out a long exhale, letting yourself lean against the bar.

“Tired?” a baritone voice murmurs into your ear, strong arms sliding around your waist.

“A little bit,” you sigh, turning to face John. “Everything go okay?”

He hums, one hand pulling off your waist to wrap around yours and bring it to his lips. He leaves a lingering kiss on your fingers, eyes holding your gaze as he allows you to see the dried blood and bruising on his hand.

“Probably should go home and wrap this,” he sighs, trailing kisses down the side of your hand to the inside of your wrist.

“Is he still breathing?” you ask, giving your best attempt at a look of disappointment despite the smile slowly growing on your face.

“Unfortunately,” John scoffs, pulling you closer so his mouth can continue its path up your arm.

You click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance as you pull your hand out of his embrace to set your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to do that whenever someone says something like that to me. It’s bound to happen.”

His brows knit together, concern and confusion drawn across his face.

“Not to my girl, it isn’t,” he says, firm and final.

“John—”

“Get a room, you two!”

You’re startled apart as Soap and Kyle reach the bar.

“Hey, let the old man have his fun!” Alex scolds through poorly held-back laughs. John groans, head falling into the crook of your neck as the three burst with laughter.

“Ready to go home?” you laugh softly. John nods into your shoulder, stepping back from you with a long sigh and deep reluctance. He takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the bar as the two of you are followed by cheers and shouts of:

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“Take it easy on him, Starling!”

“Have fun!”

Your first priority will be taking care of John’s beaten knuckles. The fun can come after that when you thoroughly thank him for defending you.

It isn’t unusual for John to be up late, either busy at the club or in his office.

Just as it’s not uncommon for you to go to bed alone. Of course, he makes up for it by making sure you never have to wake up alone, but you still miss him on nights when work comes first.

To make up for his absence, you take to wearing his shirts as pajamas, melting into the rich smell of him that lingers on the fabric as you sleep. When he’s finally done for the night, he often finds you lying on top of the covers, snuggled down into the fabric of his shirt. It’s a sight that fills him with equal parts adoration and want, something that he will never get tired of seeing.

You always wake up whenever he finally joins you for the night, moving so you can get under the blankets and let him pull you into his side. Sometimes, he talks to you about his day until you’re lulled to sleep by the soft vibrato of his voice, and sometimes, the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts leads to even longer nights spent touching and feeling and worshipping until your voice leaves you.

Sometimes, it leads to nights like tonight, you laying beside him with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart while he trails his fingers in nonsense shapes across your back.

Things are fine, content, even downright serene until he skims over a ridge of the scar on your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, hissing softly under your breath.

He pulls back immediately, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

One thing about John: he never pushes.

He knows about the scar, knows how you go out of your way to cover it up, how you flinch whenever someone touches on that side. He observes, stores the information away in his brain, takes care to avoid touching you there, but he never asks you about it.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, rolling your shoulder, trying to get the ache to leave.

You want to tell him. You have for the last month, but every time you think to bring it up, something catches in the back of your throat, gnawing at you until you back out.

It leaves you with an awful sort of guilt, one made worse by the fact that you don’t have anyone to confide in about it. No one to bounce your ideas off of. No one to reassure you that John’s opinion of you wouldn’t change if he knew.

You trust him implicitly.

He’s never given you a reason not to.

You can’t keep complaining about being haunted if you won’t let go of your ghosts.

So, in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, you suddenly sit up, throwing one leg over him to place yourself in his lap, and set your hands flat against his chest.

“Did Kyle ever tell you I was married?” you ask softly.

John goes still beneath you.

“Things were good at the start. Or he made it seem like they were so I wouldn’t realize what he was actually doing, but over time that façade he put up melted away, and I—I realized how big of a mistake I actually made.”

He doesn’t speak, but John’s hands settle on your thighs, gently kneading into the bare skin.

A small attempt at comfort.

A silent I’m here.

“He never hit me or anything like that. He found other ways to hurt me, ways that would be harder to prove if I ever left, and he had this…charisma—he was so likable and charming that whenever he’d say no one would listen to me, I’d believed him. One day, he—” Your voice catches, and John’s hands slide up to your hips as he sits up and sets his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers.

“I want to,” you reply. It takes a second for you to collect yourself, and you’re still not sure you’re ready, but you push yourself to do it anyway. “One day, I just snapped. I couldn’t take the snide comments, the vague threats, the constant anxiety—I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to leave, and he tried to stop me, and we got into this huge argument. He grabbed my arm, and I pulled away too hard, not watching where I was going…and broke my shoulder, falling down a flight of stairs.

“I try not to think about it a lot, but my shoulder never really healed properly, so sometimes even the smallest touch just makes it ache, and all I can think about is that day, lying at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier to have broken my neck instead.”

The pain lingers, but there’s a considerable weight that lifts from your chest.

There’s a beat of silence before John moves again, gently grabbing your hand and setting it on his chest, guiding your thumb along the skin where you feel a small raised circle underneath the hair.

“One of the first deals after I’d just started the club,” he sighs. “Went in all cocksure and arrogant, thinking I knew everything and that no one could touch me. The dealer we were meeting with had this idea that we were overcharging him, which we were, but we weren’t going to tell him that.

“Well, I got mouthy, and his men got violent. He pulled a gun, and the friend I was with, the man I’d started this club with, shoved me out of the way. Bullet tore through him but slowed down, going off kilter just enough to miss my heart. The Hell I unleashed after my recovery is what laid the foundation for what the club is today, but sometimes…Sometimes, I think about him, and I wonder if it was a fair trade. If it wouldn’t have been better for me to have taken the bullet and let him be here instead.”

A trade. One painful memory for another.

An implied confession: you’re not alone.

You lean forward, a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

I’m glad you’re here.

He pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours.

I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.

Your hands wind their way around his neck as he flips the two of you, laying you down against the bed. He hovers over you for just a second, blue eyes gazing down at you with far too much emotion for you to handle. You pull him by his hair, and he follows your lead, closing the space to pour all that emotion into a kiss that you return with the same intensity.

I love you.

If there’s one thing John loves more than surprising you, it’s spoiling you.

It starts with jewelry, small boxes of simple, elegant bracelets and necklaces left on your vanity during your performances.

Then it extends to clothes, your half of the closet slowly filling with pieces you find when he takes you shopping. He carries your bags for you, and you repay him by modeling every piece of lingerie you buy when you get home.

When it’s his turn to handle date night, there’s always some outrageously fancy restaurant or sold-out showing waiting for you, everything complimentary, and the staff exceptionally welcoming to the two of you.

Spoiling you isn’t restricted to expensive gifts, either.

When you catch a cold in the middle of spring, John takes the day off—something Kyle says he apparently never does, and something he can’t afford to do, says Ghost—to tend to your every need.

He overhears you talking with Valeria, telling her how you’d love nothing more than to sink into a hot bath, and you come home to a candle-lit bathroom and a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. He washes your hair, massages your shoulders, and whispers in your ear all the things he plans to do to you once you’re out of the tub.

You appreciate every single thing he does for you and tell him so often. He shrugs it off, saying he’s happy to treat you the way you deserve.

In truth, there’s something else, something far more selfish, that drives him.

He loves you. He loves to see you smile. He loves the way your eyes light up when he takes time away from the club to spend it with you—something he finds himself doing more of recently, an attempt to escape the stress and paranoia that’s been building.

He loves it even more that it’s him that’s making you happy, that he’s the only one who can make you smile like that, laugh like that, moan like that. You’re his just as much as he’s yours, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.

"Zip me up?"

Especially not now, when you’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror, half-dressed in a gown he bought for you, trying to get ready for a gala.

You look like a dream, dress hanging off your figure as you gaze at him over your shoulder with that beautiful look on your face. The one that always makes him feel like a shy teenager stumbling over his words.

John steps up behind you, and you turn a little more to meet him with a soft kiss. You turn back to the mirror, standing up straight to give him access to the zipper of your dress and the bare expanse of your back.

You wait patiently, adjusting your jewelry here and there. So distracted. So trusting. It tugs at something in his heart how vulnerable you allow yourself to be around him, a man with so much blood on his hands, they're stained down to the bone. Yet here you are, allowing him to touch you, to stain your skin with that blood and violence and danger that will follow him for the rest of his life.

He doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, but you meet his eyes in the reflection, giving him that stunning smile, and he knows it doesn't matter.

He'd burn the world to the ground if it meant he could have you in the ashes.

It’s the middle of the night when Ghost walks into his office unannounced, carrying a small, black folder.

“Bit late for you, isn’t it?” Price asks, looking up from the journal on his desk.

Ghost doesn’t speak, walking up to the desk and setting the folder down. Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the folder.

“Are you going to tell me what this is, or do I have to guess?”

“Tried calling you.”

“Phone’s in the bedroom.”

“You’ve been gone a lot.”

“Is this late-night visit for something important or just so you can tell me you’ve missed me?” Price doesn’t mean to snap; the irritation that he’s having this conversation instead of finishing up his work so he can join you in bed grinding against his nerves.

“We found the man that attacked Canary. We know where he’s from.”

Price’s eyes shoot up to meet Ghost’s. Ghost looks about as tired as he does, and Price can’t blame them. Things have been tight for months, walls slowly closing in around the club.

There’s something else in his face, something that sets Price on edge.

Price knows Ghost, knows the man who’s been by his side for years, helping to take care of every dirty deal the club’s had to deal with.

Ghost has a certain detachment, no care about what he’s doing or who he has to hurt to do it.

It’s not Ghost he’s talking to, but Simon who’s staring down at him with sadness and pity.

“Look in the folder,” Simon sighs.

Price doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know about whatever’s in here, what information he’s about to have to deal with. He wants to throw the folder back at Simon and bury his head in your neck, ignoring the rest of the world.

But he’s the Boss for a reason.

He sets the folder down, steeling himself with a deep breath, before flipping it open.

A stone sinks into the pit of his stomach, and his heart shatters.

“Oh.”

The mask slips back on, Ghost’s protective nature taking over as he watches Price visibly deflate.

“How do you want me to handle this?”

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#random0lover angst reblog #random0lover fluff reblog #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2

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random0lover · 2 years ago

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This is literally so soft and sweet 🥹

i will wait

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader

wc: 1.3k | fluff w/feels and dedicated to @eowynstwin who i aim to make smile. summary: Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear.

Things are different when he’s home.

The sun is warmer, the light having an additional glow; the candles smell stronger, and food has more taste. You told him that once before, that he had such a profound impact on you. His cheeks had blushed, and then he’d kissed you as if he was trying to steal the air from your lungs.

You like it when his voice is no longer a distant memory, but something dripping in your ear. You’re back to his chest, a hand up and around his neck, as you stand over the hob.

Yer t’good to me, lass. I’ll remind you of that when I drag you into a furniture shop.

It’s hard, but it’s worth it being with Johnny. He brings laughter, smiles and makes your heart so full, you’re not sure how it ever thumped so boldly before knowing him. He also makes you grin so broad your face hurts—an ache that’s not entirely gone since the moment he slotted himself into your life.

All of it, the two of you, began with a kind smile as you served him a cup of tea. Him with his cousins, loud and brash, in the cafe you work in. The flirting began shortly after, continuing and escalating when he stood next to you at the fence of a local football game, and it all cemented itself with a kiss—in a village where everyone knows one another.

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass? It’s not usually the first thing someone says. Well, y’have. Thank you… Johnny. Thank you, Johnny.

You did.

Over and over again.

But, it’s worth it. The moments in between filled with a loud, heart-filled Scottish family and the constant knowledge that when he’s able to, he’ll hold you close. His arms around your waist, face aching from laughing, cheeks throbbing from smiling. Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear.

Don’t wanna leave. Wanna stay ‘ere, place my tongue between y’thighs—taste heaven all over again. You keep talking like that, MacTavish, and I won’t let you go.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t come with loneliness. A sight you didn’t notice in full until the two of you signed your names and a pair of keys were in your palm. It showed itself when he became the man who lives in your home, who isn’t always present. Not just physically, but mentally.

His things are mixed and merged with yours, sometimes more than others. In good times, there are boots by the doors and a duffel bag left in the way. Sometimes, there’s just your shoes, coat and tidiness. A memory of him, a ghost haunting a side of the bedroom.

You realise quickly, you have come to hate the tidiness. You like his mess—one caused by not being home long enough to know where things go.

Foolishly, you had thought you missed him the most when the two of you first began seeing one another. When you had to say goodbye at the airport and hold back your tears which clogged your throat.

You were proved wrong when you moved in together, staring at unworn shirts with the tags still on, writing plans on the calendar you weren’t sure he’d be here for. Saying goodbye on your doorstep, heart aching, hoping you’d see him in a few months at the very least.

Occasionally, you’re far more lonely when he’s home. When he’s haunted by the failings, the loss and the little mistakes that mount—even if they never did too much damage. When he’s around you, but not quite in the way you like or are used to… that’s when you long for him.

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass? You do. Constantly. Because, y’have. Johnny…

Let me compliment y’, hen. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I left.

He allows you in when the lights are off, the blankets drawn back, nothing covering either of your skin. Both in a vulnerable state, but never feeling safer. An orange glow flutters in through undrawn curtains, him on his side, leaning on his elbow as he stares at you. Trailing calloused fingers up and over your bare hip, breathe dancing along your collarbone.

It’s hard. To switch from Soap t’ Johnny.

He says it as though one is a mask and the other is someone he barely knows. Something you hope you kiss away, reminding him who he is, pulling him back using the thread tied between you.

How can I help? Jus’ be you, can always find myself back t’you.

He likes the stars, how they twinkle. You wonder if it’s a ploy, a way to get you outside curled up with him on a rickety chair and a blanket. His hands all over you, aiming to keep you warm, but leaving nothing but goosebumps in their path.

Missed y’loads. You don’t have to miss me now. Don’t I kno’ it.

You show him why he doesn’t need to—taking him upstairs, to the mattress that barely knows him. You let your teeth run along his jaw, hands over his chest. Smoothing over new marks, faded bruises and a wounded soul.

It’s the way he prefers, even if he doesn’t say it. Forcing reasons from his tongue why he just wants to lie in bed, but never complaining when you slowly slide whatever clothes you’re wearing from your skin.

He doesn’t protest when you throw your leg over his, when you bring his lips to yours—tasting the lost time and love that lives on them.

You sink down so he fills you like only he can, groaning close to his ear, filling his mind with sounds that can root him here. His hand sliding between you, a smirk elongating, Johnny returning to you—mouth parted, ghosting over yours as he watches in awe and earnestness.

Y’so pretty when y’make a mess, lass— —Johnny— I kno’, lemme feel y’hen.

Eventually, when the two of you have said all you can say without using words, breath returns to your lungs. Both of you meet messy sheets, and he runs his knuckles over your cheek, a softness in his eyes—a simmering brightness that’ll fully bloom after some sleep.

You watch him, fingers tracing his chin as he lets his gaze run over you. Likely painting you, committing you to some canvas he has thrown up in his mind.

He’s drawn you before. Almost as naked as you are now, but there had been no ring on your finger, no sheets under you that the two of you had chosen together. A messier time, when you weren’t sure if he’d always come home to you—not like you know now, eyes catching the glint of the streetlight catching the gem on your left hand.

“What you thinking about?”

Sliding up into his cheek, his smile all Johnny—the one which had hooked you in. The one which made your stomach flip and your chest fill, even now.

“That Gho—Simon‘ll be here in a few days,” he whispers.

Tracing his bottom lip with your finger, you roll your lips. “And then, I’ll steal your surname.”

“Not theft if I’m givin’ it y’, hen.”

Cupping his cheek, you smile as he mirrors yours. “I am so in love with you, Johnny.”

“I love yer too, hen. More tha’ I can put into words.” One of his hands sliding over your hip, eyes shifting, darkening—turning from bright blue into something akin to an ocean. “So, lemme show y’instead.”

He’s home, you think as he kisses down your collarbone, tongue drawing circles as he leaves a trail over your breasbone.

Fingers in his hand, wrapping, curling around an outgrown mohawk, gasping as he spells how much he loves you.

#i honestly can’t imagine how hard it would be to love someone that is constantly going out to risk their life #my heart truly breaks for military spouses #especially the ones that stick through it all- y’all are such staring people fr #random0lover fluff reblog #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x f!reader #soap 🧼#john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #cod x reader #cod x you

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random0lover · 1 year ago

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Okay this was so fucking cute

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing დ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count დ 3.3k Event დ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse | Ｃ１ - Lumberjack AU Warnings დ Swearing, pet names, oblivious idiots and best friends to lovers, small amount of angst, copious amounts of fluff (literally and figuratively) Author's Note დ You all know me by now, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Sturdy Roots, Strong Hearts Masterlist | June-iverse Masterlist

The return of your best friend was something that made your heart flutter and beat to the rhythm of his words, but there he was, framed before you like the mountain peaks of your small town, and he had a secret – a secret that would change everything.

The air was crisp with freshly fallen snow, and the mountain peaks in the backdrop of your small town were dusted with a coat of white – a picturesque view for the drive to work, with the heaters of your truck on full blast, of course.

Music played quietly over the speakers as you hummed along, content and happy for the opportunistic day. Business had been booming. Your shop had turned into quite the hive of activity in the past few weeks from the season change – spring was on the way, and with it, came endless possibilities.

It also meant that James would be setting out to start work for the busiest period of the year, given the blistering winter that had hammered your small town left the woods treacherous and dangerous, even for a man of his skill and wit.

A lumberjack’s work was never easy.

Your shop – a perfect mix of a bakery, cafe, and bookstore – came into view as you turned the corner, the snow tires of your old truck crunching over the road. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon so the warm tones of the wood frames of the outside looked bleak. “Need to get some hardy vines…” you mumbled, pulling into your parking space.

“Morning, babe,” a voice called. You looked up from your keys to find Wanda – the town’s florist, and your best friend.

“Hey, you,” you returned, smiling happily. The click of the door lock sounded and you looked down to check it. “I can’t wait for this chill to be gone. How’re you?”

Wanda chuckled. “Same old, same old.”

There was a sly smirk on her lips when you glanced up again, and you narrowed your eyes. “What are you planning? I know that look.”

“Bucky is coming into town today, or so, the rumours say…”

“Oh my god,” you grumbled. “Not again. Yes, I know. And I am looking forward to seeing him.”

“Maybe you could–?”

You sighed heavily, knowing all too well what she was implying – having fallen head over heels for the mountain of a brooding bear that was your best friend. “No, Wands. I don’t want to lose what I have all because I can’t get my head outta the clouds, you know that. Besides, I am also looking forward to seeing my babies, Koda and Sarge.”

Wanda hummed happily. “I do miss those balls of fluff. You make sure you give them kisses from me, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day, babe.” You waved goodbye as Wanda turned to walk down the street to her shop.

The lights flicked on and your little slice of heaven came to life. Warm lights blazed over the earthy tones of browns and greens spread over the interior – golden spines of books shone, and the reflection of light on the glass display made you feel at home. Even though it had only been a few hours since you were last in your shop, coming back to it was like a tight, comforting hug.

“Let’s get this day started, huh?” You said happily, taking off your coat and switching on the heater, all the while walking towards the counter.

An hour later, the shop was filled with the smell of freshly baking bread, and the sweet smell of breakfast pastries. Coffee was brewing and the morning rush had just started – and your first customer? Steve, Bucky’s best friend.

“Hey, love,” Steve greeted, his hair packed under a dark blue beanie while his broad chest was covered in red plaid. His smile was contagious and unusually bright, and you couldn’t help but beam back at the bearded lumberjack. “How’ve you been? Keepin’ warm?”

“Stevie,” you breathed, rounding the corner of the counter to pull him into a tight embrace. “I have been great, keeping busy.” Pulling back, you moved back behind the counter and began the process of making his usual order. “How about you? How is Cap?”

“Causin’ trouble as always,” Steve said fondly, shaking his head. “The ball of fluff is in my truck, waitin’ ever impatiently for his puppacino.”

“Wait.” You paused in making Steve’s order to stare at him incredulously. “You brought my boy all the way here, and yet, you’re making him wait in the car.” The look on Steve’s face bled sheepishness, a sharp contrast to his goofy nature, but you didn’t let up. “Steven Grant–you get out that door and you bring that good boy into my shop.”

If Steve had a tail, it would have been pulled between his legs as he slunk out the door to his truck. Not even a moment later, the barking of an over-excited Cap could be heard over Steve’s yell of, “Easy, boy! Down!”

The door of your shop swung open, and a giant ball of fur bounded your way, tongue lolling, and black and white coat moving with his powerful muscles. “Cap!” you yelled, falling to your knees to greet the Malamute. “Hey, boy! Oh my gosh, look atchu!”

“It’s like you didn’t see him the other damn day,” Steve said, a ghost of a laugh in his words. “Drama queens, the pair a’you.”

“Don’t you dare insult my boy, Rogers,” you huffed, squishing Cap’s cheeks. The Malamute only opened his mouth in what could be perceived as one big smile. “He is precious, and for that, he is getting an extra treat.”

After sending Steve and Cap on their way, the morning rush began in earnest as the sun rose in the sky – casting yellow rays through the big windows that lined the front of your shop. People flocked to and fro on the sidewalk outside, stopping in for a steaming hot beverage or a sweet treat, and you felt at ease, falling into routine like a well oiled machine.

It was only when it hit nine o’clock did the hustle and bustle pass, and you worked at a more sedate pace. The display case of baked treats was considerably much emptier than when you opened for the day, and you grabbed two trays full of cookies to restock for the imminent lunch rush, when the bell sounded at the door.

You smiled and turned to greet the customer, only to freeze; the air in your lungs evaporating into nothing at the sight silhouetted by the sun.

“James,” you rushed, eyes wide, and smile even wider. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

The mountain that was your best friend stood in the doorway, a small smile on his full lips as he looked at you with such softness it turned your legs to jelly. His big boots were covered by black jeans that hugged his thighs, a dark blue and black plaid jacket stretched over his wide shoulders, and his long hair fell down in a swoop under his upturned collar.

Bucky opened his arms wide. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, tone gravelly and eyes bright. “Need my Clover to come an’ gimme a hug.”

The trays lay abandoned on the display, and you ran to Bucky, giggling all the way and colliding with his chest. “Oof!” He grunted, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and lower back. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, sweetheart. How have you been, huh?”

“Good, good! It’s been so lonely without you here!” you gushed, pulling back to look at him. He had a dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, and his smile framed his handsome face perfectly. “How was the scouting? How are you?”

Bucky gave you one last squeeze and threw an arm over your shoulder, walking you to a couch in the reading nook in the back corner. “It was boring, as usual–should be ready to start this logging season. And I’m good, Sarge and Koda missed you, too. Almost as much as I did.”

“Oh, my babies,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his middle so you could squeeze him tightly. “Alright, sit down and I’ll knock somethin’ together for you.”

“You betcha,” Bucky said. The couch creaked under him and he groaned loudly. “Fuck, this couch is my favourite fuckin’ thing–”

“I thought I was,” you interrupted, pouting at him. Bucky laughed.

The hiss of the coffee machine filled the comfortable silence, when you realised something. “Wait, where are my babies, James?” Bucky froze on the couch, and eyed you apprehensively – the action made you put your hands on your hips and stare at him pointedly. “Where are my babies?” you asked again.

“I left them in the truck because I needed a damn minute of silence, and Iwantedyoutomyselfforaminute…” The last part was a rushed mumble, and you blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky hastily said, and he stood from the couch. Another loud groan left his lips as he stretched – if you stared while his eyes were closed, that was your business. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

“Good, you do that, mister,” you huffed. “Coming in here without my babies. No wonder why you and Stevie are best friends.”

The comment made a loud howl of laughter to leave Bucky as he opened the door, and walked out. You shook your head fondly and made a round of two puppuccinos – extra large.

“Sarge, heel. Good boy–no, Koda, baby, ah, fuck it,” Bucky rambled from just outside the shop, and you watched through the window as two giant balls of fur ran around his legs, bounding and yipping for all their worth. “Yes, you’re seein’ her! Calm down, easy.”

You laughed and strode around the corner to take a seat on the couch that Bucky had occupied just moments before – the two dogs that would burst through that door any second would have no qualms on bowling you over if you knelt on the wooden floor.

“Alright, goddamn it, guys,” Bucky groaned, fending off paws and wet noses. “I open this door, and you two better be on your best behaviour.” Two loud barks answered his words, and the door flew open with a clatter of the bell.

The same two balls of fur and fluff barrelled into the (thankfully, empty) shop, looking around for their friend, until they spotted you at last. “My babies!”

You were lost in a flurry of black, white, and brown fur. “Oh my gosh, yesyesyes,” you gasped, shaking your head side to side to abate the worst of the incessant licks to your face. “Hi babies! Oh, lookatchu!”

A quiet chuckle sounded from above you, and you opened your eyes to find Bucky looming over you, phone in hand. “Are you recording my death–my death by fur and fluffiness?”

“Yep,” Bucky replied, grinning. “Gotta give somethin’ to everyone to remember you by.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to sit up, though it was impossible with Koda laying over you, and Sarge hogging your legs. “Barnes, help me.”

“Nope.” He smirked, plopping down on the couch, right next to your head. “You can stay there for a lil’ while longer, darlin’.”

“You are the worst,” you groaned. “These babies are heavy. Fine. I will be crushed and it’ll be your fault.”

Bucky only shrugged and slid down the couch cushions, then he gently moved your head so you could rest it on his thigh. “Thank you,” you hummed, and Bucky smiled, his hand resting on your shoulder.

Silence fell between you two – the comfortable kind that was shared so often when you both were just content to be in one another’s presence.

“I’ve fuckin’ missed you, Clover,” Bucky mumbled, and his hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek gently, lovingly. The rough skin of his hand was warm and it made something clunk in your mind – you could only hope it wouldn’t show on your face. “So damn much. I hate goin’ scoutin’–rather be home, here.”

You looked up at Bucky from your vantage point – his upside down face and thoughtful gaze, a small frown on his lips.

“I know, I know, Jamie. I know,” you whispered soothingly back, running one hand through Koda’s black fur, and moving the other one to rest over Bucky’s. “But you’re here now, you know I will always wait for you–you’re my best friend.”

The small frown turned into a fond smile. “Luckiest fella, I am. Havin’ a sweetheart like you to call his–”

Your heart seized. The words, while you knew they didn’t mean what you hoped for, still hit like a punch to the guts, and it was an effort to keep your face blank and void of the realisation. You wanted Bucky, and for much more than just a best friend.

“–Girl, huh? Why don’t we get an early lunch, darlin’?”

“I own the best cafe, James.”

Bucky laughed at your comment and shook his head. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have lunch here, you dork. Why don’t you make it to go, and we take my truck out to the clearin’?”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s go.”

Half an hour later, you brought a basket to the counter and pointed to it. “Lunch, and you get to carry it because it is heavy.”

“You just want an excuse to see me be a man, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, and you narrowed your eyes.

“Shut up, you idiot. Now, c’mon,” you urged, “I gotta be back for the actual lunch rush.”

Bucky saluted and took the aforementioned basket, only for his eyes to widen. “The hell you pack in this? Bricks?”

“I packed for Koda and Sarge,” you said simply, shrugging one shoulder. The two dogs ran to the door after Bucky, and you followed, your heart in your throat.

The drive to the clearing was pleasant, if only chilly – but it gave you the excuse to steal one of Bucky’s good jackets from the back seat. He only rolled his eyes and pulled into a parking spot. “Sure, you can use one,” he said, “Don’t want my darlin’ gettin’ cold now, do I?”

“No,” you replied smugly. “Thank you.”

Bucky snorted and opened the door, sliding out. “Koda, Sarge, c’mon.” The two dogs jumped from the car and bounded into the trees, kicking grass and snow up in their wake.

Something felt off, however – a sense of impending something was hanging tantalisingly over your head. Something was going to happen, and you had no idea what it could have been. You swallowed thickly, and opened your door to exit the warm cabin of Bucky’s truck. “It’s not that bad out here, thank god,” you commented.

It was the truth. The sun had warmed the chill in the air to be bearable, and while the snow hadn’t fully melted just yet, it was stunningly pretty to see the light bounce off crisp white mounds – that both Koda and Sarge barrelled through, their coats becoming covered in the soft snow.

“Sure is pretty,” Bucky affirmed, smiling at you – and the feeling of apprehension doubled in intensity. “Let’s dig in, I’m starvin’.”

“One thing we can agree on,” you hummed, walking to a picnic table under a gazebo. “I packed extra because you are a garbage disposal.”

“Hey!” Bucky chided. “Ain’t my fault that I’m a growin’ man, alright?”

You raised a brow and stared at him, and then you broke into a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled. “You’re not wrong, Jamie–you look like a bear on steroids. Have you been weightlifting trees?”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Well, it’s my job, sweetheart, kinda have to lift them somehow.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I would have thought you wrestled with a bear, considering you’re one of ‘em now.” The urge to repeat the joke you had made with him became overwhelming. “You could say… you’re a Bucky Bear.”

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpanned, reaching for the basket. “Real funny, Clover–real funny.”

The meal passed in spurs of conversation – you caught Bucky up on the gossip of the town and what Wanda had been up to, and then Bucky caught you up on Steve and Sam’s ventures on site, or how they wouldn’t stop teasing him about a situation that he refused to divulge.

“So,” you began, watching Bucky’s flickering gaze, and how his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. “What did Stevie and Sam tease you for?” Taking a bite of your lunch, you chewed slowly, growing increasingly intrigued by Bucky’s show of nerves.

“Y’know, normal shit,” Bucky said evasively, “they were bein’ assholes, like usual.”

Deciding to poke the bear, you probed further. “Doesn’t sound like it’s nothing, Jamie. Do I gotta tell them boys off?”

“No,” Bucky rushed, flushing slightly. “No, I got it.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, narrowing your eyes. Bucky was fidgeting something fierce, his usual aloof and charming aura had vanished – replaced with something akin to what he was like as a nervous teenager. “Jamie… are you alright?”

Bucky looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and he swallowed. “Clover, if you had-” His brows furrowed, like he was considering, or regretting, his words. “If you had the chance to tell the one–the one, would you do it? Tell them, or- Or ask them out?”

“Oh,” you said immediately. The question made the air in your lungs leave in a sweep – it was happening, Bucky had found someone. “Um, I-I,” you faltered, and you cleared your throat while placing your lunch down on the paper wrapping. “I, uh- Yeah. Yeah I would. Why?”

Something flashed across Bucky’s eyes and your stomach twisted. It was almost too much to bear.

“Well,” Bucky said slowly, his hand twitching on the table, like he wanted to move it but couldn’t. “Clover, darlin’–uh, would you-”

Two loud barks cut him off and Koda, followed by Sarge, ran up to Bucky and pawed at his thighs. “Really? Now?” Bucky grit out. He fished through the basket and split a large dog biscuit. “Now go on, get.”

“You were saying?” you chuckled, watching the dogs run off with their trophy.

Bucky flushed a deeper pink, and he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. His hand that had twitched just before reached across the table, open. Automatically, you took it, knowing he must need the comfort – hell, you needed it yourself, your heart was hammering so hard it felt like a rib was breaking. Whatever he was going to say was obviously hard, but you would take it and help him, he was your best friend.

“Would you wanna be- God fuckin’ damn, why is this so hard,” he cursed, frowning.

“Take your time, Bucky, baby, you’re okay,” you soothed, rubbing your thumb over his scarred knuckles. “I’m here, and I don’t mind waiting. You say it when you’re ready.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart fracture – surely he would only be acting this way if-

“Would you wanna be my Clover? My girl?”

What?

“Wait- What? Did you- Did you just–?” you floundered. Shock cascaded through every fibre of your being, and you watched as Bucky stared at you, almost imploringly. “Hang on, hang on.”

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, his hand squeezing yours once.

You took a singular second to think about what he had just asked. After all this time, after all that pining, the teasing from Sam and Steve must have been about you. It must have been about how- But that meant Bucky was serious. And… “Oh my god. Yes,” you blurted, staring into his eyes. “Yes–fuck, Jamie, I have–”

“I knew.”

“What?” you squeaked, terrified you had been far too obvious.

“I knew that I, uh- Liked you, sweetheart,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly. “I just… didn’t know how to approach it ‘till the assholes cornered me on site, demanding to know why the fuck I looked like a loon–smiling at nothing, when I was remembering you.”

A heavy breath left your lips, trembling only slightly. “So that’s why Stevie came into my shop this morning, smiling so big! After all this time,” you wondered out loud. “Just- Wow. Wow.”

“Well, now,” he began, chuckling quietly when his much larger hand engulfed yours. “Now I have my own lil’ four leaf clover.”

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