#stripped his team from him one by one and then it finally hit him and he just. yeah. yeah. i would have fallen apart too honest to God | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

probablyintensemuses · 5 months ago

Text

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #armando x reader #armando aretas x reader #hot #fic #angst #smut #bwwm love #blackoc #fanfiction #fanfic #jacob scipio

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fastandcarlos · 4 days ago

Text

Paddock Surprises : ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

summary: all prepared to race alone, logan is unaware of a surprise waiting for him back in the garage

The noise grew louder in the garage as Alex and Logan returned after the race, applause coming from all around. In the background of the team, your smile was wide as Logan walked through, unable to hide his happiness after achieving his first points of the season.

Several engineers walked over and patted Logan on the back, congratulating him on his race. Your heart was racing as you watched, full of pride, knowing exactly how hard Logan had worked to get to this point, despite how many people assured you that it would never happen.

The closer that Logan got to you, the more excited you got, feeling nerves course through your body. He placed his helmet down and began to strip down, tying his race suit around his race. Logan grabbed a drink from his bottle before spinning around, walking through the garage.

As he did so, he noticed a few sceptical eyes looking around the place, with everyone exchanging glances. Logan looked between the two of them, his brows furrowing as he tried his best to figure out what was going on, following one of their gazes to figure things out.

The first time Logan looked at you, he didn’t even notice it was you, offering a weak smile. However, as his eyes moved past you, you could see the moment the realisation hit him, his eyes turning back again to realise that it was you sat there, waiting for him with open arms to congratulate him.

Logan dropped everything as he ran through the garage, scooping you up off of the worktop that you were sat on. Your head buried into the crook of Logan’s neck, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your cheek, knowing just how wide his smile was too.

“When did you get here?” Logan laughed in disbelief, “you’re supposed to be working, not all the way out here.”

“I managed to finish up early,” you explained, pulling back and cupping your hands against his cheek. “I thought I’d come out here and support you, and I’m so glad that I did.”

“I got my first points...can you believe it?”

You leant forwards and pressed a kiss to Logan’s lips, full of adrenaline. You knew how much it meant to Logan, to prove so many people wrong and show them that he could do it, no matter what anyone else thought. It was the race that he had dreamt of for so long, as the pieces finally came together to fit to make the perfect race.

“You’re amazing,” you smiled, brushing Logan’s sweaty locks back and out of his face. “I’m so glad I could be here to see it in person. Those overtakes were amazing, you just had everything nailed today.”

Logan nodded in agreement with you, unable to quite believe what he had just done. “You know, when I crossed the line the first thing, I thought about was you, and how gutted I was that you weren’t here to see it in person. Yet here you were all along, and I had no idea.”

Your plan had worked perfectly, all thanks to Alex and Lily, helping you to arrange everything whilst making sure to keep Logan away from every spot that you hid in the paddock. There were a couple of near misses as you tried to avoid him, but luckily in the end it all worked out.

“I must’ve known something amazing was going to happen today,” you grinned, allowing Logan to place your feet back on the ground. “I’m so proud of you, I always knew that you’d get those points and show everyone just how incredible of a driver you are.”

“Thank you,” Logan whispered, pecking against your lips once again. “I never would have got to this point today if it wasn’t for you and all the support you give me.”

“I didn’t do a thing,” you laughed, “this is all on you and the hard work that you’ve been putting in for so long.”

Logan’s head shook as his arm wrapped around your frame and pulled you into his side. He wished more than anything that you knew just how big of a role you played in his career, the one to encourage him even when no one else did. Even without you there he knew exactly what you’d be saying to him, using it as motivation to get him over the line.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked Logan, smiling across at some of the engineers who passed you by. “There’s got to be a party, or something. Heading out into the city perhaps?”

Logan’s head shook in reply to your question, “that was going to be my plan, but not anymore. Turns out I’ve got a better offer of being able to spend my evening celebrating with my best friend.”

Logan pulled you in tighter to his frame once again, squeezing onto you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was still overwhelmed, in a state of shock, not just from the result of the race, but the fact that you were there to celebrate it by his side too.

After sorting himself out, Logan slipped his hand into yours and began to lead you in the direction of his driver’s room. “I was thinking we could head back to the hotel and just hang out. You’ve not got your own room, have you? Because obviously you’re spending the night with me tonight.”

“I only booked for last night, I was kind of hoping that my handsome boyfriend would want to spend the night with me, so that’s a relief.”

Logan chuckled back at you as he opened up the door. “And there I was thinking that I’d have to sleep in that big, cold bed all by myself tonight.”

“Not anymore,” you grinned, throwing yourself down into one of the chairs in the room. “You can’t be in here anyway, haven’t you got media to do? I’m sure they all want to talk to the man of the moment and congratulate you.”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Logan whispered, taking a seat down beside you. “Do you think they’ll notice if I just don’t show up?”

Your head shook as Logan tried to pull you into another hug again, only for you to squirm away and push yourself away from him, shooting a glare in his direction.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re done,” you promised, pointing to the door. “Go and speak to them all, it’s about time you got to do interviews for a good reason.”

“Don’t move a muscle,” Logan warned you as he reluctantly stood up, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’m going to be as quick as I can so that we can hurry up and get out of here.”

Your smile turned up as Logan fixed his race suit back up again, grabbing a hat and placing it on top of his head. “Enjoy it,” you told him as Logan opened up the door, “you deserve this more than anyone else I know.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Logan grinned, “try not to miss me too much, won’t you!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll miss you terribly.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant drabble #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

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micahwrites16 · 3 months ago

Text

Not Even the Force - Anakin Skywalker

TW: smut!

3.3k words

One thing about Anakin Skywalker is that he is possibly the most protective person you will ever meet.

If there were even the slightest bit of danger, he would lock you up if he could.

It's not necessarily out of possessiveness or over-protectiveness, but more fear of losing someone he loves. After his mother died, a part of him broke and no matter how hard you can try to love it better, you can't, and that's something you have had to come to terms with for a while now.

Just like his unwavering defensiveness, the wish that you could take all his worries away doesn't leave. All you can do is love him, and hope that it is enough.

Although you are just about as good with a gun as Anakin is with a lightsaber, you somehow end up stuck inside his ship every time he goes off on a mission. And of course that isn't enough, he has to leave Artoo with you just in case. So, you spend hours on end rambling to Artoo and listening to his sassy robotic replies, trying not to think about what Anakin is doing.

If either of you have one thing in common, it's worrying about the other.

As the only person out of you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka who knows the slightest bit about medicine, you're pretty much always dragged along. You really wouldn't mind if they would allow you to do something, anything, but no. You're not a Jedi, so apparently the only thing you can do is wrap injuries and check bruises.

Even if you couldn't fight or use the force like them, you were still part of their team and they treated you like it.

Currently, you're on Hoth, a planet of complete coldness and ice. You don't know the complete specifics of the mission yet, you just came to be with Anakin like always. It made you feel better that if he were to ever be hurt you could help him, even if you had to go through up to hours of boredom to do it.

You spin around as you hear the ship's door open, Artoo beeping and moving in front of you. You slowly back up and pull out your gun. Your finger moves to the trigger, ready to fire at whatever creature or droid or sith that might pop out. The door to the cockpit opens and right as you are about to fire, the gun is propelled out of your hands, hitting the wall of the ship with a loud clunk.

"Just me, my love," a deep voice calls, a shaky breath finally leaving your lips as you realize who it is. You relax as you see familiar waves of dark honey and the Jedi robe that you have stripped him of countless times before.

"Maker, Anakin!" Your breaths come out as soft pants as your heart calms down. "You can't just scare Artoo like that! Look at him, practically shaking." Both of you look at Artoo, and if a droid could roll its eyes that's what he would be doing right now. He beeps quietly, the sound almost annoyed as he rolls away from us. Anakin chuckles, closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring Artoo, that was very inconsiderate of me."

"Yes, very," you mumble quietly as you melt against his lips. Damn him and his perfectness. He brushes hair behind your ear as you pull away, the soft gesture warming your heart. As you finally get a clear view of his face, you gasp when you see a large gash stretch from his hairline to the middle of his cheek, mirroring the scar on the other side of his face. The skin around the cut is irritated and red, blood dripping from the laceration.

Anakin sees the intense worry in your eyes and quickly says, "It's okay, just a small cut. I can clean it up after we get off this dreadful planet." He kisses your forehead as he sits down in the pilot seat, turning the ship on.

"Wait- Anakin, it might need stitches," you follow him, him brushing off your concern as he lifts the ship off the ground. You let out a noise of protest, but quickly sit in the seat next to him, not wanting to be standing as he takes off.

"It can wait a few minutes, y/n."

You roll your eyes at his negligence, Anakin buckling you in with the force and blasting into space.

Once he sets the ship into autopilot you unbuckle and grab supplies to clean his wound, along with bandages and a needle and thread. You walk back to Anakin and straddle his hips, facing him so you can get a good look at his injury. He automatically rests his hands on your hips, shifting you closer to his chest.

"What happened?" You ask as you start cleaning the blood with a damp towel, being cautious not to hurt him further.

"Wampa. It got lucky. I was distracted," His eyebrows furrow slightly and you smile softly, the expression on his face almost looking like a pout. Sometimes you have no idea how this man is the most powerful Jedi in existence.

"Hm, okay. Well, it doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but it might leave a scar for a little while." He nods slightly and you grab something to clean his cut, pouring it on the cloth. "This might sting a bit," you warn as you press along his cheek. The only signs of his pain are his hands squeezing just the slightest bit harder on your hips.

As you continue cleaning his gash, you feel his eyes burn into your skin. His hard gaze used to make you uncomfortable, the intensity of it making you itch and want to crawl inside yourself. It was always like he was staring into your soul, taking every mark on your face to memory. Over time you got used to it, though, and learned to let him do what he wanted. You used to always hide from him, digging your face into the crook of his neck so he couldn't see. He would always pull you back and kiss your jaw, reassuring you with whispers of how beautiful you were. How he would stare at you all day if you would let him, just because he was so mesmerized by you. Then he would make love to you, once again taking every inch of your skin to memory and showing how much he appreciated you with every kiss and caress of his fingers.

Through your concentration, you don’t notice the sudden shift in Anakin, how his eyes gloss over and his hands tighten on your hips even further. You don’t notice how he seemed to have gotten lost in his mind, something in his head swirling darkly.

You finish and bandage his cut, giving it a soft kiss and putting your supplies back in your med kit. "All better," you smile and move to get off his lap, but instead you get pulled back into his chest, Anakin's face digging into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapping around your waist.

His hold is tight, almost desperate. A different kind of worry and surprise hits you at his sudden movement, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Ani?" Your eyebrows furrow, your fingers holding onto the ends of his hair. "Hey, talk to me," you say softly, his arms securing you tighter against him. You feel a shaky breath hit your shoulder, dread curling in your gut as the possibilities of what could've happened swirl in your mind.

"Y/n..." Anakin murmurs against you, his eyelashes fluttering softly against your skin and his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You can practically see dark swirls twisting around his body, emanating the emotion pouring through him. You always felt like you could understand and feel him on a level that's deeper than you should, especially in times when something is bothering him. And when something's truly bothering Anakin, it's deep and dark and it's almost as if you can feel it infecting his mind and blood. You have absolutely no idea what happened or what changed in the past five minutes, but you can almost feel him sinking into darkness.

It's so unbelievably scary.

"Anakin. Look at me, please," you plead in the gentlest voice you can manage. You tilt his head up, your eyes finding his.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Anakin murmurs, avoiding your gaze.

"Nothing's wrong with you." You search for words that could get him to open up to you, but you come up empty. Instead, you kiss his jaw and keep your gaze locked on him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I..." His eyebrows furrow again, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. He shakes his head like he's forcing something out of it. "I felt something."

"Felt what?"

"I don't know," Anakin murmurs, almost like he's lost in his head. "It felt so real. It felt like a memory, but I didn't see anything. I just... you..." You notice his eyes start shimmering and you rub your thumb back and forth on his cheek, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. "It was like grief. Like I was feeling grief for something that hadn't happened yet. Like the nightmares I had of my mother, except a feeling."

"Grief?"

"Yes. I just knew not to let you leave. Not... not now," Anakin mumbles, his face falling back into the crook of your neck. You feel a wetness hit your skin, a piece of your heart cracking for him. If Anakin's really getting a premonition like what he got with his mother, then it's definitely not good.

"I'm not leaving. I never will," you whisper, hugging him even tighter than before. "I'm right here." You feel him sigh and his lips against your shoulder, his teeth nipping and sucking softly at the sensitive skin as his tears continue to drop onto you.

"Need... need to feel you," Anakin pleads quietly, his hands roaming up and down your back, along your hips, and up to cup your neck as he places kisses on your throat. "Need to know you're here."

"Ani..." You sigh as his lips find the sensitive spot under your ear. And although you want him just as he wants you right now, you're not sure this is the best idea. You can tell something serious just bothered him, and brushing it off with sex might not be the right thing.

"Please, y/n." His hips roll up to yours gently, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel his growing hardness against your softness. "Need to feel all of you."

You can feel the lust radiating off of him with every brush of his lips and dominating grab of his hands, but more than that you feel his yearning and desperation for not specifically intimacy, but closeness. You decide you'd do whatever it takes to make him feel better.

You try not to dwell on the fact that it seems like it was you who he was grieving.

You pull his lips to yours, rolling your hips against his and pulling moans out of both of you. His lips are conquering and the swipe of his tongue against yours is needy, begging silently for something that you would give him over and over again if that's what he needed. His hips rut up into yours, causing your fingers in his hair to tighten and the boiling lava in your stomach to burn brighter.

Anakin's hands pull up the fabric of your shirt, his metal hand causing you to gasp at the coldness as it roams across your uncovered skin. "Now. Need to fuck you now, y/n," he begs against your lips, his fingers hooking on your pants, quickly lifting you up and pulling them down.

His dirty words stopped surprising you long ago. Now, all they do is fill you with an indescribable heat.

You quickly find the belt on his Jedi robe and take it off, throwing it on the floor beside where he carelessly threw your pants. His flesh hand presses against your clit through your panties, causing you to moan and buck your hips into his hand.

"Already so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect," he mumbles as he sucks on your jaw and pulls his boxers down, his aching cock springing up and hitting his abdomen. You slam your lips against his again, him grunting sharply as you swipe your thumb over his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum leaking desperately from him.

"So pretty," you murmur absentmindedly as you take in the sight of his rock-solid cock standing proudly, the tip slightly flushed and begging to be touched. You watch as his cheeks bloom into a dark red, his head falling onto your shoulder once again.

"Baby..." He sighs as his dick twitches, desire and the need to be connected to you overwhelming every one of his thoughts. He presses his thumb against your clit again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your veins. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and brushing his cock against your naked core, causing both of you to shudder. "Are you going to ride me, my love? Going to take me like the good girl I know you are?"

"Mhm," you whimper, your voice filled with lust as you position yourself above his cock, sinking down just so his tip is inside of you. Anakin grunts, his head head falling back against the seat. You slowly slide down, taking him in inch by inch until he's buried all the way inside of you, your walls stretching pleasurably at the intrusion.

"Oh fuck," he groans loudly, holding on to your hips tightly, no doubt leaving marks. "Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Taking me so well."

You moan, rocking your hips against his and reuniting your lips. Your walls clench at his words, causing another grumble to fall from his lips and in turn make your arousal grow at the sound. He guides you up and down his cock slowly, your pussy squeezing around him like a vice as he fucks into you, hitting that spot that only he knows.

Even after the many, many times before that you have been connected like this, you never get used to the size of him. Of being absolutely full, almost feeling like you could explode because of pleasure and completeness. And even though lust is overwhelming both of you, the thing both of you are enjoying the most is being so close to each other. Loving someone so deeply sometimes isn't enough, you have to be one with the other to achieve the level of intimacy you both long for.

"Anakin," you cry out, your fingers desperately gripping onto the ends of his hair as he fucks abandonedly into you.

"I know, I know, y/n. Doing so- so well for me," he praises softly, placing encouraging and loving kisses on any part of your skin he can reach. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, neck. He would devour you whole if he could. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he puts all his energy into making you feel good, wanting nothing more than to replace every one of your senses with pleasure. With him.

You latch your mouth onto his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob beneath your lips. Fire burns beneath your skin, every pulse of your heart meeting his. His groans and your whimpers bounce off the walls of the cockpit, the dirty, wet sound of you connecting causing a deeper flush to paint your skin.

"Look at you, so unbelievably beautiful on top of me," Anakin mumbles as his cock slams into that deliciously pleasurable spot inside of you over and over again. He reaches his thumb in between you, rubbing in small circles over your clit and making you cry out sharply. Your insides tighten and tighten, your toes beginning to curl as the stars are no longer just in space but behind your eyelids. He speeds up to a bruising pace, your legs faltering as you no longer have the strength to continue rocking your hips. Sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead, your throat going raw with the amount of strangled noises that he's pulling out of you.

Anakin could get drunk off the sound of you lost in pleasure. Every noise and slap of his skin against yours causes his heart to beat frantically and desire to flare inside of him painfully. You could stab him in the heart and he would thank you just for even touching him at all, and the fact that he gets to have you in this way never fully seems real. The way your perfect pussy sucks him in like it's trying to swallow him whole, how it seems like you burn for him just as much as he burns for you, makes everything in him roar with love and lust and every feeling you could ever feel for someone. Every thrust of his hips into yours makes him feel alive, almost like he's finally whole after a lifetime of missing something. Of missing you.

Your head falls forward onto Anakin's shoulder, his hand cradling your head and rubbing your scalp soothingly, holding you through the intense waves of pleasure the both of you are experiencing. His hips stutter as you whimper, your release coming closer and closer.

"Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna let me feel you?"

"Yes," you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. His head rolls back again, his mouth opening and letting out the most beautiful groan as his cock swells inside of you. His hips twitch again, letting you know he's exactly where you are. "Wanna- wanna come with you, Ani."

"I know, baby. I'm right- right there with you," Anakin gasps, bucking upwards into you, his breathing ragged and his face flushed as he staggers towards blissful oblivion. You cry out Anakin's name loudly, your walls fluttering around him as your core throbs painfully.

And all it takes is one more unsteady, forceful thrust of Anakin's hips for both of you to fly off the edge.

Both of your bodies tremble and quiver with the intense force of your release, your noises mixing into a song of ecstasy and desire. Anakin spills himself inside of you, filling you to the point where thinking is no longer possible. The only thing you can feel is Anakin. Pleasure floods through your veins, every limb in your body going still as you ride out your release.

"F-fuck, y/n. There you go baby," he praises encouragingly as you continue to cry out. You hold onto Anakin tightly until your senses start returning and the white light fades from behind your eyes. You press your lips to his again, this time softly and as an act of complete love. He murmurs gentle "I love you's," into your ear as you both come down, both of your hearts swelling as you clutch onto each other for dear life.

"Thank you," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs.

"For what?

"I just... needed to have you. To know you're here, with me." Anakin's eyes fall shut like he's trying to rid something from his mind, and you press your puffy lips against his again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Don't think about it, okay?" You search his eyes as they open again, pulling his hand to rest over your heart. "Do you feel that? I'm here. Right here, with you. I'm not leaving. I won't let anything take me from you, Anakin. You know that, right?"

His eyes lock on to where his hand is feeling your heartbeat, his eyebrows pulling together softly. His eyes meet yours again, the worry in his face fading.

And at that moment Anakin knew that nothing could take you from him, not fate, not force. You wouldn't let it, and Anakin would die a thousand deaths before he let it. You were his, and he was yours, and if the force was going to take you from him, they would rip it from his cold, dead, "chosen” hands.

"I know."

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 months ago

Text

Jealousy

Christian Yu / Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, hurt/comfort, sweet af, Christian being a great boyfriend

-------------------------------

You sat on your couch watching the TikTok Live that showed the airport Christian was supposed to be arriving at. Finally he emerged from the gate, and was immediately swarmed with fans, his security doing everything they could to get him to the van waiting for him outside. You smiled seeing him, knowing he would be home soon. You had been dating for over a year but his team still said you needed to be kept a secret. Neither of you liked it, but you did it to support his career the best you could. You watched Christian smile and wave while walking before one fan slipped through security, coming face to face with him. She pulled him into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Your stomach dropped; Christian’s security dragged the girl away before practically shoving Christian into the van. You turned off your phone, throwing it on the seat next to you. You were jealous and you knew it was a stupid, unfair jealousy. He had no control over it, yet you couldn’t help but feel jealous that some rando got to kiss him in public but you couldn’t? His long time girlfriend couldn’t even be seen with him, let alone kiss him in public. You picked up your phone as it buzzed repeatedly. Opening Twitter you saw an endless amount of comments and tweets about the mystery girl who kissed Christian. People were actually shipping them. You huffed throwing your phone back on the couch before marching yourself to the bedroom. You stripped down, thinking a hot shower might wash it all away. As the beads of warm water danced over your skin you almost felt calmer. Almost. You saw the comments replay in your head.

“She’s so thin and pretty!!”

“Awwww meet cute for the win!”

“Future couple?!”

“I just know this man is gonna marry her!”

You don’t know when it happened but you felt something hotter than the shower run down your cheeks. Sniffles and sobs followed quickly. You sat in the bathtub, letting the water hit your back as you sobbed into your hands.

-----------------------------------------

Christian was confused at the silence he heard when he opened the front door. He took his shoes off and left his luggage by the front door, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in you after being on tour for 6 months. When he heard the shower running as he got closer to your shared bedroom he smiled. He slipped his shirt off, closing the bathroom door softly. Then he heard sniffles and a small sob.

“Baby?” Christian said, pulling the shower door open just to see you sitting on the stone floor.

You didn’t even move to greet him, feeling angry with yourself that this is what he had to come home to all because you were jealous over something stupid.

“Get out.” you mumbled.

“Baby what’s wrong?” he said, starting to lean into the shower, water cascading down half of him.

“I said get out!” you said, harsher than you intended.

Christian backed up. He knew when you asked for space to give it to you. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt when your first instinct to seeing him was wanting him to go. He left the bathroom, changing his clothes and sitting on the bed patiently for you to come out.

-----------------------------------

You sat for another few minutes before sighing and getting up. You finished showering and got dressed in the bathroom, not wanting Christian to so much as look at your body right now. You took a breath before walking out, seeing him sitting on the bed. When you looked in his eyes you could tell it was Mito and you knew exactly where his mind went when you told him to leave. He stood up, his eyes not meeting yours with a solemn look on his face. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, letting your head rest on his broad chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, leaning his cheek on the top of your head as he hugged you back.

“No, I’m just being stupid.” you sighed, hiding your face in his chest.

“Wanna tell me about it?” he asked.

You paused for a moment; you knew he’d be understanding but you felt so shitty for even wanting to bring it up. “The girl at the airport…” you started.

He pulled back slightly, panic swarming his face. “She kissed me - I didn’t want to, you have to believe me.” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

You held his face in your hands, “No baby, I know. I’m just… jealous.” you said begrudgingly.

His eyebrows furrowed, “Jealous?” he said questioningly.

You let go of him, flopping onto the bed. You stared at the ceiling, “I just… wish I could kiss you in public. Hold your hand. Go on dates. Hell - just be with you in public. I don’t want to put your career in jeopardy, it's the last thing I want. But it's… hard sometimes. Being a secret. I love you, you love me. What do we have to be ashamed of?” you babbled on, finally letting your emotions spill forth.

Mito climbed on top of you, “You’re right.” he said simply. He kissed over your face gently, moving down your neck and chest slowly.

You hummed at the contact, your body finally remembering how much you missed him.

Mito held your face in his hands, thumbing away the last few tears that slipped from your eyes. “I love you and I have missed you terribly… let me show you?” he asked slipping his hands under your shirt to rub circles into your hips.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him. You nodded and watched as he descended you body, shimmying your underwear off.

------------------------------------------

Christian watched you as you slept on his chest, his fingers tracing over your shoulder absentmindedly. He opened Instagram, posting a picture of you two from a few weeks ago. You had built a blanket fort in the living room and were snuggled up against him, both of you wearing hoodies with animal ears on them. You two looked so incredibly happy and nobody could deny that. He looked at it for a while, then at you. He wanted you forever, he just hoped you wanted him too. He wrote a short caption before posting it. Turning his phone off he wrapped his arm around you, kissing your forehead before falling asleep himself.

-------------------------------------

You shook Christian awake, “Christian Yu why do I have over 40,000 notifications?” you asked.

Christian smiled, "Do you wanna go out to dinner tonight?” he asked in return.

“What? You know we can’t go out together.” you said, looking at him confused.

“We can do whatever we want now.” he said, handing you his phone and showing you the post.

You looked down with shock before throwing yourself on him, “I love you, but respectfully, were not leaving this bed…” you said as you tugged at the waistband of his underwear down.

Christian laughed, pulling you into a kiss as he let his hands roam your body.

----------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hey all :) I hope this is a good one, it is based off a request. Sorry fics have been slow to roll out, work is insane and I'm on call this week so next week will probably be better for fics because I get off early and can actually do whatever (i'm going to smoke so much weed it would make Willy Nelson jealous). I hope to get some more request soon, love y'all! XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!

#dpr ian smut #dpr christian #dprian #dpr ian #writing #christian yu #christian yu x y/n #christian yu x reader #mito #mito x y/n #mito/reader

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wlwprker · 5 months ago

Text

please don’t leave s.r. x gn! reader [1]

a/n: im a sucker for hurt/comfort i fear; wrote this with s3-4 & migraine reid in mind but you can choose whichever one you prefer! (this got super long so i’m going to make this into parts!)

warnings: minimal proofreading, some swearing, brief descriptions of basic criminal minds violence (cases and whatnot), mentions of blood

wc: 1,374

you and the team were tirelessly hunting down an unsub before he hurt any more women. the unsub was going after single women in their mid-30s or 40s who were in higher-stakes jobs such as congresswoman, lawyer, doctor, etc.

the unsub felt these women should stay at home and be housewives instead of being out in authority like jobs. the unsub’s mother was the same way, and he never had a proper childhood. he longed for a better relationship with his mother, so he stripped children’s mothers away from them.

time was running out, and everybody was running on little to no sleep, working on every detail to not miss a single thing. after many hours of looking into every victim, every connection, and every location, you finally found him. everyone raced against the clock, finally got his location, and were able to rescue three girls. you felt a tiny sense of relief at this fact; it helps to know you could still save people.

you knew this unsub’s type, and while you knew that you didn’t meet the criteria, there was no telling what he’d do to get his way.

“stay with me, okay?” spencer ordered in a soft tone. he was just being a good team member, and while you both knew that you could hold your own,.

this killer. he was erratic and aggressive.

you knew that spencer would give you a lecture if he knew that you ignored his orders, but that was the least of your worries.

you rounded a corner with your gun held out in front of you, and you took in every corner on high alert. you peeked inside a room, checking your surroundings before entering. the lights were off, and of course the light switch was not working.

you turned your flashlight on, and you had your back turned for not even half a second.

as soon as you turned around, the unsub attempted to throw you across the room, but you caught his wrist in a forceful grip.

“you don’t need to do this. this ends now," you said in a firm voice, but the unsub did not listen. you tried to get him to back down, but he wasn’t listening. you kept your gun raised, but you could not see where he went.

“you’re not my type, but I’ll take my chances, the unsub said, and you started to turn around, but before you could react, he had raised a crowbar and hit you in the head, and you had collapsed to the floor. you were dizzy, and your vision was blurry as you attempted to stand up.

the sound of a thud had alerted the entire team, and everyone was on extra-high alert, thoroughly checking every corner of the house and looking for the source.

“spencer, where did they go?” emily whispered, noticing they were down an agent. spencer’s heart dropped to the floor; he must have turned around when you slipped away from him.

“son of a bitch! i told them to stay with me,” spencer mumbled to himself.

spencer took a deep breath to calm himself down as the two of them searched the house. spencer froze in place when he walked into a pitch-black room and saw you lying on the floor. he was internally panicking.

“can you hear me?” spencer asked, and you were slipping in and out; everything around you was blurring, and everyone talking to you sounded like they were millions of miles away.

after a while, you could no longer hear or see anything; you were knocked out. spencer took a shaky breath as he placed two fingers on the side of your neck and sighed in relief when he found a pulse.

“we need a medic!” emily yelled into her walkie-talkie. spencer was freaking out, wondering what he could have done to prevent this.

“hey, it’s not your fault; you know that, right?” jj said as she watched spencer internally cursing himself.

“i turned around for barely a second, and they just...” spencer trailed off, and jj led him out of the house as they had successfully located the unsub and arrested him.

after a painful silence, the medics arrived and took you out on a gurney. the side of your head was bleeding, and you were not waking up.

“go, I’ll tell hotch; he’ll understand, emily said as she watched spencer look at you with a pained look on his face. he silently nodded and stayed with the medics as they took you to the hospital.

the ride to the hospital was a deadly silence; he longed for your voice, even one of your silly jokes, anything.

once you got to the hospital, despite his best efforts, spencer was sent to the waiting room. as he waited for the verdict, he was bouncing his knees constantly, his mind racing with millions of possibilities.

he hated waiting. not knowing if you were okay drove him crazy; he wanted to scream.

the doctor came out, and spencer stood up fast. he listened intently, and a sigh of relief washed over him as the doctor told him that you were going to be okay.

“am I able to see them?” spencer asked anxiously, and the doctor nodded. “yes, they need lots of rest, but you can go visit.” the doctor smiled as they walked to your room.

his heart ached when he saw you lying on a bed with a bandage on the side of your head and hooked up to a machine, peacefully sleeping.

he was so glad you’re okay.

spencer took a seat and watched you cautiously; he didn’t want to disturb you.

you slowly opened your eyes, saw spencer, and smiled lightly.

“hey spence, did you guys catch him?” you asked faintly. spencer’s heart twisted in agony at the sound of your voice.

“we did, but you need your rest. i just wanted to see how you were doing.”

you smiled and tried to sit up, but spencer stopped you with a warning look in his eyes.

“don’t move; you need to rest.”

“i’m fine; it was just a scratch.” you attempted to joke, but it came out weakly.

“you got hit in the head with a crowbar, and you passed out—more than scratch there,” spencer said, sighing.

“the doctor said i could go home within the next few days, maybe sooner,” you said, and spencer didn’t respond; he just held your hand with a sad look on his face.

“hey, i’m okay.”

he cut you off with a deep sigh.

“why did you ignore my orders? i told you to stay with me. damn it, why didn’t you stay? i don’t know what I would have done if” spencer trailed off.

“i’m fine, spencer.”

“no, you’re not; you got hurt!” spencer was frustrated. how could you not see this was killing him?

“but I’m here; i’m going to be...”

“stop talking.”

you looked at him strangely, confused as to why he was so on edge.

“spencer, i’m fine; i don’t know what has you so worked up, but...”

“please stop talking,” he said, rubbing his forehead as he finally looked you in the eyes.

“do you know that 258 people in 100,000 enter a coma each year due to acute brain injury?” spencer stated, frustration evident in his voice. you stared at him, confused.

“what does that have to do with anything?"

“you are lucky that you don’t have a brain injury; you could have been at risk of going into a fucking coma for who knows how long! what i’m saying is, i wish you didn’t go off by yourself because i would never forgive myself if i lost you. do you understand me?” spencer said it in a stern voice, which caught you off guard.

“spencer, i can handle myself just fine, and i’m okay, aren’t I?”

spencer shook his head furiously.

“you’re not listening to me.”

the silence filled the room; it was the loudest silence you’ve ever witnessed.

you tried to speak, but spencer just sighed. “you need rest; i’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

you just nodded, the conversation still on your mind. why was he so upset? you didn’t have the energy to dwell on it.

“spencer,” you called out.

he turned around with a curious look in his eyes.

“can you stay a little longer?” you asked quietly.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #wlwprker🥀💌

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mountsgirl · 8 months ago

Text

Captain-Dominik Szoboszlai

Pairings: Dominik Szoboszlai x fem!reader

Warnings: +18 content(smut), explicit language

Summary: Attending the game in which your boyfriend captains his national team takes an interesting turn

Note: I just couldn’t get this idea of him out of my head🫣

Even if this was just a friendly game against Türkiye, Dominik still wanted his girlfriend to attend. He wanted to make her proud. They have been dating for a couple of months, the relationship still fresh, but the chemistry was something none of them had ever experienced. That’s how Y/n found herself at Puskás Arena on a Friday night with Dominik’s jersey on.

It was moments before the Hungarian players needed to be on the pitch to warm up for the game, as you were seated with the other wives and girlfriends attending the game. They were discussing about clothes, jewellery and how excited they were for the game to start before you receive a text from your boyfriend.

Dominik: come in the locker room, I need you!

You wonder if everything is okay with him as you excused yourself from the group and went on to look around the stadium for Dominik. Reaching the locker room, you push the big doors, surprised to find him all alone. His kit was on, together with the captain’s armband, which made him even hotter.

“Shouldn’t you be warming up?”you approach him, settling yourself between his legs while his arms embrace your hips.

“I should” he smirks, checking you out. The skirt you’re wearing come right before your knees and the black leather boots embracing your legs, made you look like a goddess. Looking up to see his jersey hugging your body so perfectly, his smile widened even more “but I had to see you before”.

“You’re so handsome” you mutter, while arranging a string of hair which fell on his forehead.

“My captain” those words awake something in him and he hooks his big hands around your thighs drawing you closer to him, until you’re sitting onto his lap. His and your lips are now mere inches apart, Dominik finally closing that distance, with a passionate kiss, moaning softly. Both of you get even more excited, one kiss turning into a heated make out session. Dominik’s hands traveled all over your silky smooth skin, from your waist, down to your thighs caressing it gently but firmly.

“Strip” he tells you without any hesitation. All flustered and turned on by his actions you look deeply at him with doe eyes “What?”.

“You heard me, strip!”

“Dominik, the game is about to start and someone could come…” he interrupts you with a sloppy kiss, gently pulling on your lower lip to which you can only let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is not like that stopped you before”

“But” you try to argue with his but also very tempting idea but he doesn’t buy any of it.

“Be a good girl and listen to your captain, otherwise I’ll have to bend you over that table and make sure you behave baby” his words hit you like a bus. Dominik seems very calm about the whole situation meanwhile you’re barely holding on.

The shirt and skirt you’re wearing are long forgotten on the floor, while Dominik tries to unclasp the bright red, lacy bra “You’re going to kill me with his baba” he starts planting kisses on your neck, going lower and lower, to the valley of your breasts, not forgetting to nibble and mark every inch of skin on your chest. “Dominik, Domi please” you whimpers in his ear, getting even louder than before.

“What do you want?” He asks straight away, his lips barely leaving your body.

“I want you baby, please”

“And where do you want me?” He asks with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I want you inside me”

Hearing your words, Dominik lifts you up just like a feather and places you on the table in the centre of the locker room.

“All you had to do was ask szívem(my heart)”

Dominik rips up the lacy red panties you had on which were matching the bra.

“Dominik, I liked those!”

“Don’t worry baby I’m going to buy you more” he says thrusting into you.

“Domi!”you leave out a sigh of pleasure which sounded more like a scream, as your walls were drawing him in more and more, squeezing his already hard cock.

“Arch your back for me pretty girl” you do as you’re asked, feeling him go deeper and rougher.

“Can you feel me here baby?” Dominik asks, tracing your lower stomach, feeling the tip of his cock pushing harder into you. You were getting lost in the pleasure that your beloved boyfriend was giving to you while he was just as fascinated by your body and the sounds youmade as you were by him.

“Yes baby, yes!” You let out broken sobs as Dominik was brushing wet kisses over your body. He grabs your chin and he smashes his lips with yours whilst thrusting roughly into your aching core. Dominik was nibbling on your skin while your walls were clenching around him drawing you closer and closer to your climax.

“Dominik I’m close baby please”

“I know baby, I got you, I’m close too”

With every move inside you, he was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm untill you both reach your high, your uneven breaths echoing trough the empty room.

“Fuck that was good” you smile, kissing him.

“Never disobey your captain’s order” he smirks, kissing you again. Dominik helps you get off the table and as you both get dressed you pick what’s left of your underwear off the ground

“How am I supposed to go without these now?”

“Just as you came here, plus it’s easy access for my reward after I score tonight” he winks and you roll over your eyes.

He laughs as he takes the pair of tore up panties from your hands and puts it in his locker.

Hope you enjoyed it!🫶🏻

#dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai imagines #dominik szoboszlai smut #dominik szoboszlai imagine #dominik szoboszlai x you #liverpool fc #lfc #football fanfic #football smut

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fortheloveofkonig · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

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allurilove · 5 months ago

Note

Yandere Husband, Yan!Prodigy, Yandere Classmate and Yandere Stalker x fem!reader who has large breasts and tries to hide them under several layers of clothing. Despite her attempts to hide them, the yanderes persist and end up convincing her to let them worship her breasts.

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

You said yandere classmate so I’m gonna guess you wanted yearbook guy?, if not, ill just add both yearbook and boyfriend too!

Yandere Husband:

“I’ve seen everything before,” your husband approached you slowly, his eyes looking you up and down before he licked his lips. “Why do you feel like you have to hide yourself from me?”

He grabbed the bottom of your sweater, and you felt him slowly lift it up as he bent down to kiss your stomach. You could feel the vibrations from his voice on your skin. “I love every part of you.”

He stood back up and pushed you down onto the bed. Your yandere husband straddled you and tilted his head. “Are you going to strip for me, or do I have to make you?”

You give him a little pout, really trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to see your chest, but really… it’s one of the best qualities about you. He likes fondling them when he reads, when he goes to sleep, or even when he’s bored. Your husband just likes to have a hand on you at all times.

When you finally give in, slipping off all the layers and your chest was free from your bra, he let out a low whistle at the sight. “…so perfect.” he mumbled and he leaned down to suck on your nipples.

Yandere Prodigy:

He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but overhear how badly you felt about your body. You were just talking to another girl in your section, and you were packing your instrument away. Yandere prodigy did notice how you wore thick layers, and tried your damn hardest to cover any cleavage. He did wish you would flash him every once in a while.

He cleared his throat and looked away shamefully. He felt like a pervert for always staring at your chest, just trying to imagine how it would look like.

His ears tingles as you continue to complain about your back pain and how sensitive your chest could get. “I can give you a massage.” he blurts out and he had to look confident as you turned around to look at him incredulously.

He thought that you would turn him down. He never once thought that he would be backstage touching you. He cleared his throat. “Tell me if anything hurts…” he had no idea what he was doing, and he definitely realized how bad this looked it anyone saw you two. He continued to massage your body, his hand slowly trailing upwards towards your chest.

He did an experimental touch, gently pressing one finger right on your breast, and he looked at your face to see your reaction. Your eyes are closed and a single sigh left your lips. He then took his other hand and placed it right on your tit and he squeezed it. He took a step forward to trap you against the wall and his knee found its way in between your legs. “Is this okay?”

Yandere Classmate:

You came to one of his swim meets. You were hit with a wave of humidity as you opened the doors to the pool area. He was already in the pool, swimming cap on, and he was warming up. You saw his strong arms and legs propel him through the waters, and occasionally his face would pop out to breathe.

You set your stuff by the bleachers and watched the coach usher the team out of the pool. The meet was about to start. Yandere classmate pulled his body out of the pool, he’s wearing one of those tight speedos, and you can see the tan on his legs. His back is wide and strong, the water dripping down his muscled body, and he meets up with the rest of the team.

As the swim meet went on, you were sweating underneath your sweater, your face bright red and you couldn’t help but pull at the collar of your shirt for some air to cool you down.

Towards the end he finally approached you. “You look hot. Quite literally and figuratively.”

“Follow me, I’ll give you one of my shirts to wear.” he pulled your hand and he dragged you towards the locker rooms. He smiled as you instinctively covered your eyes. “Relax, it’s just you and me in here.”

He handed you one of his shirts, it’s bigger than you thought, and you sigh in relief as you realized it could cover your chest. He stood there, ready to stare at you as you changed. When your chest was out he immediately put his hand to feel them without a second thought. “Woah…” his thumb circled your nipple on top of your bra. “Can I take a pic?”

He got down on his knees, pulling out one of your tits, and his mouth opened. He gently bit down onto the flesh and raised his phone higher to take a picture.

Yandere boyfriend:

Your boyfriend gripped onto your hips as he thrusted upwards. You were on top of him and kept riding him to meet your release. He noticed how you always wore a shirt when you two were intimate, and if he wanted to see your tits he would only get to feel them instead.

He gasped as he felt your pussy clench around him. His nails digs into the fat of your hips. “I wanna see you… please?”

“Ah~” his back arched as you grind on top of him. When you see the euphoric expression on his face you finally gave in. You took off your shirt and bra, you tossed them to the side and his eyes widen.

It drove him crazy to think that you hid your glorious breasts from him, his eyes followed the way they moved around as you hopped on his dick. He sat up onto his elbows and he kissed your chest, his hands then moving to sandwich his face in between them.

Yandere Stalker:

Your stalker bought binoculars to look into your window. You stepped out of your shower, your towel wrapped around your body, and he prayed that you would drop it.

You’re quite bold, you know? You have huge windows and yet you get changed in front of them. It gives creeps like him be able to see you. He felt his cock strain in his pants and he bit his bottom lip.

Your hips swayed as you walked over to your lotion bottle. Oh I get to see you rub yourself with white cream? Lucky me.

The moment you flashed the world with your body he quickly pulled took a picture of your form. He got back into his car and drove home.

He was now sitting in his bed, his arm furiously jerking himself off, and his eyes were glued to the zoomed in pic of your tits. His tongue stuck out to lick the screen, and he swirled his tongue. He would pay you a generous amount just to be able to fondle them, to feel the heavy weight, and to keep one of your bras. “…you’re so pretty-“ he whined as his eyes rolled back and he came all over his hand.

#Allurilove asks #yandere boyfriend x you #yandere classmate (yearbook guy)#yandere prodigy x rival you #yandere husband x you #smut writing #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x fem reader #yandere oc x you

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i-heart-slashers · 6 months ago

Text

Chance Encounters

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Dwayne x gender neutral!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A chance encounter cheers you up while on the boardwalk but was it really a chance encounter?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.7 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | n/a

The salty breeze swept through the boardwalk, carrying with it the laughter of children, the sizzle of fried food, and the distant melody of carnival music.

Among the crowds of people strolling along the wooden planks, you walked with purpose, eyes fixed on the colorful array of games lining the bustling strip.

You had always been drawn to the challenge of carnival games, the promise of winning a coveted prize lighting a spark of determination within you.

Today was no different. Pockets jingling with coins and a heart full of optimism, you made your way to one of the many game booths adorned with oversized stuffed animals dangling tantalizingly from above.

The game was simple enough—toss rings onto bottles, and if one landed just right, victory and a plush reward awaited.

With practiced precision, you flicked your wrist, sending ring after ring spiraling through the air. But each attempt fell short, missing the mark by mere inches or bouncing off the bottles with frustrating defiance.

Undeterred, you persisted, your determination growing with each failed toss. Time seemed to blur as you continue your quest, coins slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Yet, despite your best efforts, the elusive victory remained just out of reach.

As the sun descended towards the horizon, casting an amber glow over the boardwalk before blossoming into purple-blue, you finally admitted defeat.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back from the game booth, hands empty and spirits deflated.

Despite your best efforts and a considerable dent in your wallet, the teddy bear remained firmly perched atop its pedestal, mocking you with its unattainable allure.

Once so tempting, the lure of the prize now felt like a distant dream.

With a sad sigh, you pulled yourself together, and just as you turned to leave, a voice broke through the din of the crowd. "Hey there, having trouble?"

You turned to see a figure standing beside you, walking from the shadows of a nearby alley, with a warm but mysterious smile on his lips. "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is all you need," he offered, gesturing towards the game with a playful grin. "I'm Dwayne"

Blinking, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity as he gestured toward the game booth with a casual tilt of his head. "Mind if I give it a shot?"

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. But something about Dwayne's easy charm and genuine kindness put you at ease, and you found yourself nodding in agreement.

Giving him a small smile, you stepped aside, watching with a mix of anticipation and skepticism as Dwayne approached the booth. In one fluid motion, he picked up a ring, his movements confident and precise.

With a flick of his wrist, the ring sailed through the air, spinning gracefully before landing with a satisfying clink on the neck of a bottle. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Dwayne repeated the feat not once but twice more, each toss hitting its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

You could scarcely believe your eyes as Dwayne turned back to you, a triumphant grin lighting up his face. "Looks like we've got a winner," he said as if there was no doubt he'd win.

At that moment, as the carnival lights flickered overhead and the sounds of jubilation filled the air, you felt a spark ignite within you. It wasn't just the thrill of victory or the allure of the prize that captivated you, but something deeper.

"Looks like we make a pretty good team," he remarked, holding out the plush prize for you to take.

You accepted the oversized stuffed animal from Dwayne with a mix of gratitude and awe. As you reached out to accept the bear, your hands brushed together, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

"Wow. This is exactly what I wanted," you said with a shocked laugh.

Dwayne offers to carry the oversized plush as he leads you down the boardwalk, seemingly taking the initiative to hang out with you without stating it as you follow his lead wordlessly.

For some reason, your hand itched to reach out and take his— but for obvious reasons, you don't.

As you walked along the boardwalk again, the plush prize tucked securely under his arm, you knew that this chance encounter had sparked something that would stay with you long after the carnival lights had dimmed.

You couldn't help but feel the weight of the evening's events settle into a gentle warmth. Dwayne walked beside you, his presence both comforting and protective. Now tinged with twilight's soft hues, the carnival's atmosphere seemed to pulse with an enchanting rhythm.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincere gratitude. "I was about to give up."

Dwayne's smile broadened, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Sometimes, it just takes a fresh perspective," he replied. "Or a bit of luck." His voice teases something more knowing, but that was lost on you.

Nodding, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this man you had just met, who was clearly comfortable walking around shirtless under that jacket.

You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths had crossed for a reason. "Do you come here often?" you asked, trying to prolong the conversation but grimacing at the question you uttered.

"Every night," Dwayne said, his gaze drifting over the bustling boardwalk. "I have a lot of brothers, and chaos on the boardwalk is a nightly routine for us. Plus, I enjoy the energy— people-watching is sort of my thing."

"Your thing?" you found yourself eager to learn more about him.

"I'm a… free spirit, you could say," Dwayne explained. "Having a lot of time gives me the freedom to come here when I want. And you? What brings you to the boardwalk?"

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to share. "I just moved here, and I guess the boardwalk attracted me. Something about the carnival games, the lights, it all feels so nostalgic."

Dwayne nodded in understanding. "I get that. There's a certain magic here, isn't there?"

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of your footsteps blending with the ambient noise of the carnival. You glanced at the stuffed animal tucked under his arm—a giant, fluffy bear with a cheerful expression.

It was a stark contrast to the earlier frustration you had felt.

"Want to grab a bite?" Dwayne suggested, breaking the silence as his eyes roam over you with a deeper meaning before he grins. "I know a place that does amazing food."

You feel something warm inside you at his question, whether it was him caring for your hunger or just wanting to spend more time with you. Either way, you were eager to follow his lead.

With a shared smile, you made your way to a nearby food stand, the tantalizing aroma of fried dough and powdered sugar guiding your steps.

As you waited in line, Dwayne's easygoing nature made the conversation flow effortlessly; he asked questions and then listened. You talked about favorite memories, childhood dreams, and the small joys of life.

When your order was ready, you found a quiet place to sit, the stuffed bear occupying its own place near you. The first bite of the warm, sugary treat was blissful, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.

"Delicious, right?" Dwayne said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as his eyes roamed your face almost as if trying to savor that instead of the food.

"Absolutely," you agreed, taking another bite. "You weren't kidding."

You continued to chat, the evening unfolding around you both like a storybook. The lights of the carnival rides twinkled in the background, casting a soft glow over their conversation. You found yourselves laughing more than you had in a long time, the stress and disappointment of the earlier game wholly forgotten.

As the night wore on, you wandered through the boardwalk, enjoying the various sights and sounds. You played a few more games, and your competitive spirits were ignited by friendly banter.

Dwayne proved to be skilled at more than just ring toss, winning a couple of smaller prizes, which he generously handed over to you.

"You're really good at these," you remarked, both impressed and envious.

Dwayne shrugged modestly. "Years of practice. As I said, my brothers and I have lived here for a long time. Plus, it's all about having fun, right?"

You couldn't argue with that. You were having fun, more than you had initially anticipated. As you reached the end of the boardwalk, the ocean stretched out before you, the waves illuminated by the moonlight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dwayne said, his voice soft as he looked out at the water.

"It is," you agreed, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over them. "Thanks for tonight, Dwayne. It was… unexpected, but in the best way." being with him somehow felt natural, like he was always supposed to be there.

Dwayne turned to face you; his expression was sincere. "I'm glad I could make your night better. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones we don't see coming."

You smiled, feeling a flutter of something akin to hope. "So, do you think I'll see you again?"

Dwayne's smile was warm and reassuring, but it also reflected a knowing look, like you were a new part of his life now. "I'll make sure of it." He grinned as he said your name smoothly as he bid you farewell.

As you said your goodbyes, you couldn't help but feel this was just the beginning of something special. Your stomach tightened in an excited expression akin to a schoolgirl crush.

You can see him walk towards a group dressed similarly, like him on a bike. A wild blonde patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin, and a smaller guy waggled his fingers at you in a wave.

Turning away as a blush heated up your skin, you started to make your way back home. You grinned, walking past the final few stands on the way out.

With its lights and laughter, the boardwalk will always hold a special place in your heart. But tonight, it had given them something more—a chance encounter that felt like destiny.

Meeting someone who turned a moment of disappointment into a night of unforgettable memories.

As you carried your prizes home, it suddenly struck you that you had not introduced yourself in the flurry of frustration at the game.

So, how did Dwayne know your name?

#horror #horror slashers #slashers #reader insert #x reader #the lost boys #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #dwayne lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #vampire #vampires #lost boys

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starlitmelanin · 3 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀི do better; t.alexander-arnold

pairing - trent x fem!reader

word count - 1.3k

warnings - none

summary - subbed off in the 70th minute, trent’s frustration boils over by the time he gets home. you comfort him, but also remind him of who he is and the responsibility that comes with it.

the door slams shut with a force that almost makes the walls tremble, the kind of force that tells you exactly how trent's feeling before you even see his face. you're in the living room, scrolling through your phone when you hear it, and the heavy thud of his bag hitting the floor follows seconds later.

you don't need to ask him what's wrong; you already know.

he's in the hallway, and the frustration is written all over his face. it's in the tight set of his jaw, the way his eyes are dark and stormy, and how his hands are clenched into fists at his sides like he's trying to keep a lid on whatever's bubbling up inside him.

"hey," you say softly, getting up from the couch and walking over to him.

your voice is gentle, careful, because you know how much he hates losing his cool, how much he prides himself on being in control, especially in front of you.

he doesn't answer, just exhales a harsh breath through his nose, his eyes flicking to the side as if he's trying to compose himself, trying to shake off the anger that's still simmering beneath the surface.

"trent, talk to me," you press, reaching out to touch his arm, hoping to ease some of the tension out of his rigid posture.

"they pulled me off," he says finally, his voice low and clipped, like he's trying to keep from shouting. "70th minute. can you believe that?"

you nod, even though you don't need to say anything. you've been with him long enough to know how much he hates being subbed off, how much he values being on the pitch, being in the thick of it with his team. and tonight, being pulled off early, in his eyes, felt like being stripped of that.

"i was fine," he continues, his voice rising just a little, his frustration leaking through despite his efforts to keep it under wraps. "there was no reason for me to come off. none."

you watch him, knowing that right now, he needs to vent, to let it all out. but you also know that once he's calmed down, he'll see things differently. right now, though, it's your job to be the balance, to be the voice of reason when his emotions are running high.

"i know," you say quietly, guiding him towards the couch, hoping that sitting down might help him relax a bit. "but you have to trust the coach's decision. maybe he saw something you didn't."

he shakes his head, the frown on his face deepening. "nah, it wasn't that. i know my body, i know when i'm done, and tonight, i wasn't done. he should've let me finish."

you sit down next to him, close enough that your knees are touching, and you can feel the lingering annoyance vibrating off of him. you let him stew in it for a moment, knowing that sometimes he just needs a bit of space before he's ready to really hear you.

"i get it, babe," you say after a while, your voice steady, even though you know what you're about to say might not be what he wants to hear. "but you can't let it get to you like this. you're the vice captain, trent. you have to keep it together, especially out there, in front of everyone."

he looks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he wants to argue, but there's something in your tone that makes him pause. you've always been able to get through to him, even when he's too caught up in his own head. it's one of the reasons why you work so well together, why he values your opinion so much.

"i know," he mutters, dropping his head back against the couch, his eyes closing as he exhales a long, slow breath. "i just hate it. i hate not being out there, not being able to do more."

you nod, understanding where he's coming from, but also knowing that sometimes, stepping back is just as important as stepping up. "i know you do. but you have to trust the process. trust that the coach knows what's best for the team, for you. and you can't let your emotions get the better of you, especially not on the field."

he's silent for a moment, his brows furrowed as he processes what you're saying. you can see the internal struggle on his face, the way he's wrestling with his frustration and the logic you're laying out in front of him. it's never easy, getting him to see things from a different perspective when he's in a mood like this, but you know he'll come around. he always does.

"yeah, you're right," he says finally, his voice softer now, the edge of anger starting to fade. "i just... i don't know. it just got to me tonight."

"that's okay," you say, reaching over to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "you're allowed to feel how you feel. but just remember who you are, trent. you're a leader, and you need to act like one, even when things don't go your way."

he opens his eyes then, turning his head to look at you, and there's something in his gaze that makes your heart swell. it's gratitude, appreciation, maybe even a little bit of awe, like he can't believe how well you know him, how you always seem to know exactly what to say.

"what would i do without you, huh?" he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the first sign of the frustration starting to truly melt away.

you smile back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "you'd be fine. just a little more annoyed, maybe."

he chuckles at that, the sound low and warm, and you can feel some of the tension leaving his body as he relaxes into the couch, his hand still holding onto yours.

"i'm sorry," he says after a moment. "i didn't mean to come in here all pissed off like that. i just..."

"it's okay," you interrupt, squeezing his hand again. "i know it wasn't about me. and i know how much this means to you. but you've got to remember that it's not just about tonight. it's about the long game, about being fit for when you're really needed."

he nods, his expression thoughtful as he takes in your words. "yeah, you're right. i just need to get out of my own head sometimes."

"and that's why i'm here," you say, your tone light, but there's a seriousness in your eyes that he doesn't miss. "to remind you of that, to keep you grounded."

he smiles at that, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, and he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. "you're amazing, you know that?"

"i try," you tease, nudging him playfully with your shoulder, and he laughs, the sound warming your chest.

the rest of the evening is quieter, the tension from earlier disappearing as you both settle into the comfort of each other's company. you talk about other things, lighter things, the issues of the game left behind.

it's these moments that you treasure the most, the quiet after the storm, when it's just the two of you, no distractions, no pressures. and as you curl up next to him, his arm draped around your shoulders, his thumb tracing absent-minded patterns on your arm, you know that this is where you're both meant to be.

together, dealing with the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the frustrations and joys that come with life, with love, with being there for each other, no matter what.

#⋆⁺₊✧ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧 #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x black reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold x reader

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cod-thoughts · 6 days ago

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Kiss your husband goodnight

Word count: 5.7

Relationships: NikPrice, PriceNik, Ghost&Price, team as family

Tags: established relationship, marriage proposal, fluff

Price has had the week from hell—missions gone sideways, paperwork piling up, and no sleep to speak of. The team is at their wits' end trying to get him to rest, so they call in the one person they know he’ll listen to: Nikolai. What starts as an attempt to drag a sleep-deprived, stubborn Price to bed turns into something much bigger when Price, half-asleep and unfiltered, says something that changes everything. Nikolai isn’t about to let the moment slip by, and when the morning comes, they’ll both face the future with newfound certainty. Featuring: A very tired Captain Price, Nikolai at his most patient, Ghost quietly emotional but terrible at saying so and Soap and Gaz being concerned. Read under the cut or on AO3

John Price had survived countless harrowing missions, led his team through fire and hell, and stared death in the eye more times than he cared to count. But this week—this endless, relentless week—had stripped him down to his barest threads. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the weight of everything he carried, compounded by the frustrating, unforgiving grind of bureaucratic cleanup.

Two overlapping missions had run him ragged. The first—a covert extraction in hostile territory—had gone sideways the moment they hit the ground. Faulty intel left his team pinned down for hours, forced to fight tooth and nail for their lives. By the time they reached the extraction point, battered and bloody, Price had been awake for over thirty hours. There’d been no time to recover before the second mission, a high-profile joint op that demanded precision coordination. They’d pulled it off, but the delays, unexpected terrain challenges, and sheer physical toll had pushed them all to their limits.

Price took the brunt of it, as he always did. His team relied on him to lead, to make the hard calls, to bear the responsibility when things went wrong. And when they finally returned to base, bruised and weary, the mountain of paperwork that awaited him was almost enough to break his spirit.

He’d been at it for days, skipping meals, ignoring the ache in his back, and pretending he didn’t notice the concerned looks from Soap and Gaz. Even Ghost, usually reserved, had hovered more than usual, his sharp gaze following Price’s every move.

Now, Price sat hunched over his desk, the dim overhead light casting long shadows across the room. Reports and casualty lists were scattered in uneven piles, half of them smudged with his hurried writing. A cold cup of coffee sat forgotten to his left, the bitter scent mingling with the faint tang of gun oil still lingering on his skin. His pen scratched against the paper, but the words blurred, refusing to cooperate. His hand trembled faintly as he tried to steady it.

A knock at the door barely registered. It came again, louder this time.

“Captain?” Soap’s voice cut through the haze.

Price grunted, not looking up. “Busy.”

The door creaked open, and Soap stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve been at it all day, sir. Just thought—”

“I said I’m busy,” Price snapped, his voice sharper than intended. He didn’t have the energy to soften it.

Soap hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “Ghost’s got somethin’ to say about that.”

Price sighed heavily as Ghost stepped into the room, his presence commanding without effort. The mask did little to hide the frustration in his eyes.

“John.” His voice was low, measured. “You need to stop.”

“Not now,” Price muttered, turning back to his papers. His pen froze mid-sentence, and he had to blink to remember where he’d left off.

“You look like you’re about to drop,” Ghost said bluntly. He crossed his arms, his posture rigid with concern. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

“There’s too much to do,” Price argued, though the conviction in his voice wavered. “Can’t afford to stop now.”

“You can’t afford not to,” Ghost countered. “You’re no good to anyone if you collapse.”

Price slumped back in his chair, his fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose. For a moment, the weight of the week caught up with him, pressing against his chest like a vice. He hated this—hated being seen like this, hated the worry in their eyes.

“Look,” Soap said carefully, stepping closer. “We get it, alright? You’ve got a lot on your plate. But you’re not alone in this, sir. Let us help.”

Price shook his head, his exhaustion cutting through any attempt at politeness. “Just leave it. I’ve got this handled.”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a glance, their silent communication speaking volumes. Without another word, they stepped out into the hallway.

---

The plan was hatched quickly.

Soap leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched Ghost pace. “He can’t keep going like this. He’s gonna work himself into the ground.”

“I don’t think we’ve got a choice,” Gaz added, his tone edged with frustration. “He’s not listening to a damn thing we say.”

Ghost stopped, his gaze lingering on Price’s closed door. His voice was quieter now, almost reluctant. “We call Nikolai.”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he on an op right now? You think he’ll drop everything to come all the way here?”

“You think he wouldn’t?” Ghost countered, his tone sharper than usual. “He’d move heaven and earth for Price.”

Gaz nodded slowly. “Fair point. You think it’ll work?”

“It has to,” Ghost said simply.

The three of them exchanged a glance, the weight of the decision settling over them. They all knew how Price would react when he found out—stubborn as ever, gruff and probably annoyed at the interference. But they also knew this wasn’t about what Price wanted. It was about what he needed.

“Right,” Soap said, pushing off the wall. “Who’s making the call?”

“I will,” Ghost said without hesitation. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts.

Gaz stepped forward, leaning against the table as Ghost raised the phone to his ear. “Think Price’ll forgive us for going behind his back?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ghost said, his tone clipped. “Better to have him pissed off and alive.”

The phone rang twice before Nikolai answered, his voice warm and steady. “Simon? What is this about? I did not expect to hear from you yet.”

Ghost’s posture eased slightly at the familiar tone, but his words came out firm and measured. “It’s Price. He’s in a bad way.”

The warmth in Nikolai’s voice vanished, replaced by sharp concern. “What happened? Is he hurt?”

“Not physically,” Ghost reassured. “But he’s run himself into the ground. He hasn’t slept in days, hasn’t eaten properly. Keeps saying he’s fine, but he’s not. He’s working himself to death.”

A sharp intake of breath came through the line, followed by a moment of silence. When Nikolai spoke again, his voice was lower, edged with determination. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since we got back from the last mission,” Ghost said. “The bastard hasn’t stopped since we hit the tarmac. Paperwork, reports, mission briefs, meetings, you name it. We’ve tried reasoning with him, ordering him to rest, even taking things off his plate. Nothing’s worked.”

Soap leaned closer, his voice cutting in from the background. “We thought maybe you could talk some sense into him. He’ll listen to you.”

Another pause, then Nikolai’s voice softened. “You did the right thing calling me. I will be there tonight”

“You sure?” Ghost asked, his tone unreadable. “We’re asking a lot.”

“Of course,” Nikolai replied without hesitation. “It is John, there is no question.”

Gaz let out a quiet sigh of relief, stepping away to give Ghost space. Soap, however, lingered, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You think you can get him to rest?” Soap asked, his tone equal parts hopeful and doubtful.

Nikolai chuckled softly, though there was a hint of tension beneath it. “I have my methods. And John knows better than to argue too much.”

Soap grinned faintly. “You say that, but it’s bad this time Nik.”

“I have my ways.”

Ghost shifted, his fingers tapping idly against his leg. “Nik, it’s bad, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s not just tired; he’s wearing himself down to nothing. We’re really worried about him.”

“I understand,” Nikolai said, his voice steady. “I will handle it, Simon. Just keep him where he is until I arrive.”

Ghost nodded, even though Nikolai couldn’t see him. “Don’t think he’s gonna move but we will. Thanks, Nik.”

“No need to thank me yet,” Nikolai said lightly. “Save that for when he has rested.”

The call ended with a faint click, and Ghost slipped the phone back into his pocket. For a moment, he stood silently, his gaze fixed on Price’s closed door.

Soap clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, here’s hoping Nik can work his magic.”

Gaz smiled faintly, though there was still a shadow of worry in his expression. “He’s our last resort.”

Ghost didn’t respond, but the set of his jaw and the sharp focus in his eyes said enough. If anyone could pull Price back from the brink, it was Nikolai.

---

Nikolai’s arrival was a quiet affair. He found Ghost waiting for him in the corridor, the tension in his posture betraying the worry he didn’t voice.

“Where is he?” Nikolai asked.

“Office,” Ghost replied. “Hasn’t moved all night.”

Nikolai nodded, his expression unreadable as he pushed open the door.

Price didn’t even look up. He was slumped over the desk, his head resting in one hand, his eyes barely open.

“John,” Nikolai said softly.

Price blinked, slow and dazed. “Nik?”

“Yes, my love,” Nikolai said, moving closer. “It is me.”

Price’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Saving you from yourself,” Nikolai said gently. He crouched beside him, resting a hand on Price’s knee. “Come to bed, Mishka.”

Price’s response was a low grumble, something half-hearted about needing to finish. But his body betrayed him, leaning instinctively into Nikolai’s touch.

“You are done,” Nikolai said firmly. “Come.”

Soap leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. Gaz stood beside him, half-hidden in the shadows, while Ghost loomed nearby, his posture stiff and tense. None of them had dared follow Nikolai into the office, but they didn’t need to. The door was ajar, and the low, muffled tones of the conversation carried easily through the quiet corridor.

When the door finally opened, Nikolai emerged, one arm steadying a very dazed John Price. The captain leaned heavily against him, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His usual commanding presence had dissolved into something unsettlingly fragile, and Ghost’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask.

Soap tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Would you look at that. Never thought I’d see the Captain so... domesticated.”

“Shut it,” Ghost muttered, his voice lower than usual.

Soap blinked, his grin faltering slightly at the sharpness of Ghost’s tone, but he didn’t comment. Gaz glanced up, frowning slightly, but his attention quickly returned to Price.

As they drew closer, Price mumbled something under his breath, his voice too low to catch. Nikolai murmured a reply in return, his tone gentle but firm, and Price let out a huff that was almost a laugh.

“‘Spose you think you’re real clever,” Price mumbled, his words slurred and softened by exhaustion. He stumbled slightly, and Nikolai caught him with ease, his arm tightening around Price’s waist.

“Always,” Nikolai said simply, his smile faint but fond. “Keep moving, Mishka.”

Soap raised an eyebrow at the nickname, his grin returning. “Mishka, eh? Wonder what that means.”

Gaz elbowed him lightly. “Probably something you’re not meant to know.”

They were close enough now to hear Price more clearly, though his words were still slow and unfiltered. He blinked up at Nikolai, his head tilting slightly as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re a handsome bastard, y’know that?”

Soap nearly choked on his laughter. Gaz clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a snort, while Ghost stood rigid, his gaze fixed on Price.

Nikolai didn’t so much as flinch. “Of course I know. Keep walking, John.”

Price stumbled again, and this time he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Don’t deserve you,” he muttered, his head lolling against Nikolai’s shoulder. “You’re too good to me.”

“You deserve more than you know,” Nikolai replied, his voice soft enough that only Price could hear.

Ghost’s hands tightened at his sides. He’d never seen Price like this—so unguarded, so utterly drained. The sight left an uncomfortable weight in his chest, one that wouldn’t lift even as Soap and Gaz exchanged amused glances.

“Never seen him like this,” Gaz murmured, his voice quiet. It was meant for Soap, but Ghost heard it clearly.

“Neither have I,” Ghost replied, his voice low, almost hesitant. He didn’t look at Gaz or Soap, his focus entirely on Price.

As they reached the door to Price’s quarters, Nikolai paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes met Ghost’s for a moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—an unspoken understanding, maybe even a reassurance. He nodded once, barely perceptible, before turning his attention back to Price.

“You are alright,” Nikolai murmured, his voice meant for Price but loud enough for Ghost to catch. “Let me get you to bed.”

Price blinked slowly, his brow furrowing slightly as though sensing the tension in the room. His head lolled to the side, his tired gaze meeting Ghost’s. “Oi, Simon,” he muttered, his words sluggish but recognisable. “Don’t look so bloody grim. I’m fine. Nik’s got me.”

The words, though barely coherent, seemed to hit their mark. Ghost’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction, though the unease in his eyes didn’t fade completely.

“Get some rest, John,” Ghost said finally, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

Price gave a small nod, his eyelids already drooping, and Nikolai guided him into the room without another word. The door clicked shut, leaving the team in the hallway.

Soap let out a low whistle, breaking the silence. “Well, that was bloody adorable.”

Gaz grinned faintly, though his gaze lingered on the door. “You reckon he’ll remember any of that tomorrow?”

“Not a chance,” Soap said with a laugh. Then he glanced at Ghost, his smile faltering slightly. “You alright?”

Ghost nodded stiffly, his eyes still on the door. “Yeah. He’ll be alright now.”

Soap gave him a curious look but didn’t press, instead clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s hope Nik works his magic.”

As Soap and Gaz moved down the hallway, Ghost lingered for a moment longer, his thoughts still on the man he’d just seen. It wasn’t just the exhaustion or the uncharacteristic softness in Price’s voice that unsettled him—it was the fragility of it all, the reminder that even John Price wasn’t invincible.

With a quiet sigh, Ghost turned and followed the others, the weight in his chest easing slightly but not entirely gone.

Nikolai guided Price into the room, his arm still looped securely around the other man’s waist. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in a pocket of quiet, away from the amused murmurs and prying eyes of the team. Price mumbled something incoherent, his head lolling against Nikolai’s shoulder as they shuffled toward the bed.

“You are hopeless,” Nikolai murmured softly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I do not know how you have made it this far on your own.”

Price let out a low chuckle, his weight sagging further into Nikolai’s side. “Don’t need to do it on my own. Got you, haven’t I?”

The words were slurred, softened by exhaustion, but they carried a warmth that hit Nikolai square in the chest. He tightened his hold on Price, his steps steady as he manoeuvred them closer to the bed.

“Sit,” Nikolai instructed as they reached the edge. He eased Price down carefully, his hands firm but gentle as he guided him. “Let me get you comfortable.”

Price blinked at him, his expression bleary but faintly amused. “Comfortable, eh? That an excuse to get my clothes off, Nik?”

Nikolai huffed a quiet laugh, crouching to untie Price’s boots. “You are insufferable when you get like this.”

“Like what?” Price asked, his head tilting slightly as he tried to focus on Nikolai’s hands.

“Overtired and full of nonsense,” Nikolai replied, pulling one boot free with a practiced tug. “You are lucky I love you.”

Price hummed softly, a sound of sleepy satisfaction. “Love you too,” he muttered, his voice so quiet Nikolai almost missed it.

Nikolai paused for just a moment, not used to hearing it said in such a carefree way, his fingers tightening briefly on the laces of the second boot. Then he resumed his task, slipping the boot off and setting it aside before straightening. “Up,” he said gently, reaching for Price’s belt.

Price blinked slowly, his hands fumbling weakly to help. “What’re you doin’?”

“Getting you out of these uncomfortable clothes,” Nikolai replied, his tone patient but firm. “You can barely keep your eyes open. Let me take care of you.”

Price let his hands drop, his resistance melting away under Nikolai’s steady touch. As Nikolai worked the buckle loose, Price leaned forward slightly, his forehead brushing against Nikolai’s shoulder. “You really are too good to me,” he mumbled.

“You have mentioned this, yes,” Nikolai said with a soft smile, slipping the belt free and moving to unbutton Price’s shirt. He worked quickly but carefully, his fingers deft as they pushed the fabric off Price’s shoulders. “Arms up.”

Price obeyed without protest, his movements sluggish but cooperative. As the shirt fell away, Nikolai couldn’t help but notice the tension still lingering in his shoulders, the way his body seemed weighed down by more than just exhaustion.

“Lie back,” Nikolai murmured, his hands steady as he guided Price down onto the mattress. He adjusted the pillow beneath his head, smoothing the blanket over him with a practiced ease. “There. Better?”

Price let out a contented sigh, his eyes already drifting shut. “Much.”

For a moment, Nikolai thought he might finally succumb to sleep. But then Price’s eyes cracked open again, his gaze hazy but focused on Nikolai’s face. A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. “You know,” he said, his voice soft and slurred, “you’re the best husband ever.”

The words hung in the air, unassuming yet powerful, slipping from Price’s lips as though they’d always been true. Nikolai froze, his breath catching in his chest. He stared down at Price, his heart thundering as the weight of the statement settled over him.

Husband.

Price’s eyes fluttered closed again, his breathing evening out as he sank further into the bed. He didn’t seem to realise what he’d said—or maybe he did, in some half-conscious, sleep-addled way. Either way, the words hit Nikolai like a hammer, cracking something open inside him.

For a long moment, Nikolai didn’t move. His hand rested lightly on the blanket, his gaze fixed on Price’s face as a rush of emotions flooded through him. Love, joy, and something deeper—something unshakable and certain.

Finally, he reached out, brushing a hand through Price’s hair in a gentle, grounding gesture. “Sleep, Mishka,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “I will be here.”

Price didn’t respond. His breathing had already deepened, the last vestiges of consciousness slipping away. Nikolai stayed beside him, his thoughts spinning with the possibilities that lay ahead. For the first time in years, the future felt close enough to touch.

---

Once Price had finally drifted off, his breathing deep and steady, Nikolai remained seated at the edge of the bed. The stillness of the room wrapped around him, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket over Price’s chest. The sight of John—so utterly unguarded, his face softened in sleep—made something ache in Nikolai’s chest. He brushed his fingers gently over Price’s knuckles where they peeked out from under the blanket, a soft, grounding touch.

The quiet brought with it a wave of thoughts Nikolai hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on before now. He couldn’t leave—not yet. It didn’t feel right to walk away, not when John had finally surrendered, finally let someone take care of him. Nikolai leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his hand still resting lightly on Price’s shoulder. The warmth beneath his fingers was steady, soothing, anchoring him even as his mind began to race.

Husband.

The word had tumbled out of John’s lips without hesitation, soft and slurred but unmistakably sincere. Nikolai closed his eyes, letting the sound of it echo in his mind.

Husband.

He hadn’t expected it—not here, not now, not like this. Price had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to emotions. Their relationship had always been built on quiet certainties, gestures that spoke louder than words: a hand on his back during a tense briefing, a rare smile shared over a late-night cup of tea, the way Price’s shoulders eased when Nikolai was near.

But this? This was something different. Something new. And yet, it wasn’t, not really. Nikolai had thought of Price as his partner in every sense of the word for years. The idea of marriage had crossed his mind more than once—first as a fleeting notion, later as a quiet hope that settled into his heart. He’d bought the ring on a whim, drawn to its understated elegance. It wasn’t flashy or overly ornate, but it felt right, much like their relationship: steady, solid, and unshakeably certain.

The ring had sat in his drawer ever since, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. Nikolai had told himself he was waiting for the right time, but now he wondered if he’d just been waiting for reassurance—for some sign that John wanted the same thing.

And now, John had given it to him. Husband. The word felt like a promise, even if Price hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Nikolai leaned back slightly, studying the man who had unknowingly turned his world upside down with a single sleepy murmur. Price looked so different like this—peaceful, vulnerable, the lines of exhaustion on his face softened by sleep. It wasn’t a sight Nikolai often got to see, and he felt a quiet pang of guilt for letting things get this far. Price was so used to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, so used to putting everyone else first, that he rarely let himself rest.

That ends now, Nikolai thought. He would make sure of it. For all the strength Price showed to the world, he deserved someone who would stand beside him, who would remind him that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

The decision settled in Nikolai’s chest, warm and certain. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that had been tucked away for so long, that he couldn’t bare to be parted from even after all these years. He turned it over in his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over the edge of the lid. The ring was still there, gleaming faintly in the dim light. It felt like it had been waiting for this moment, just as much as he had.

Tomorrow, Nikolai thought. No more waiting.

---

Price stirred slowly, dragged from the depths of sleep by the faint sound of birds outside the window and the warm press of a hand resting gently on his arm. His body ached with the dull, lingering heaviness that came from days of pushing too hard, his muscles protesting even the smallest movement. It took a moment for his surroundings to register—the familiar weight of his duvet, the clean scent of his bedlinen mingling faintly with something more distinctive: Nikolai’s cologne.

Nikolai's cologne?

His eyes opened sluggishly, the light filtering through the curtains making him squint. His head turned toward the figure sitting beside him, and for a moment, confusion flickered across his face. Nikolai was there, perched on the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Price croaked, his voice rough with sleep and the strain of too many late nights.

Nikolai’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Good morning to you too, Mishka.”

Price groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Morning,” he muttered, though the word came out more like a grumble. His brow furrowed as his mind tried to catch up. “What time is it?”

“Almost midday,” Nikolai replied, his tone steady but warm.

“Midday?” Price blinked, his mind slowly piecing together the words. “Bloody hell…”

“You needed it,” Nikolai said simply, his hand still resting lightly on Price’s arm. “I was not about to let you keep going like you were.”

Price let out a huff of laughter, though it lacked his usual sharpness. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

Nikolai’s expression softened, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You really do not remember, do you?”

Price frowned, his hand falling to his side as he tried to think. “Not a damn thing.”

For a moment, Nikolai was quiet, his fingers brushing absently over the blanket covering Price. Then he let out a soft breath, his tone careful but unwavering. “Simon called me. He were worried about you, they all were—and rightly so. You have not been taking care of yourself.”

Price’s frown deepened, his gaze dropping to the blanket as fragments of memory surfaced—muffled voices, Nikolai’s steady presence, the feel of being led down the hallway. “They shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, though his words lacked conviction. “I had it under control.”

“Did you?” Nikolai asked gently, tilting his head. The question wasn’t sharp or accusatory, but it cut through Price’s weak protest all the same.

Price sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight left him. “Guess not,” he admitted quietly.

“Guess not,” Nikolai echoed with a faint smile. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from Price’s forehead. The gesture was tender, grounding, and Price leaned into it instinctively.

“So you dragged me to bed?” Price asked after a moment, his voice rougher now, tinged with self-consciousness as he sat up on bed, the blanket pooling at his waist.

“I did,” Nikolai said, his smile widening slightly upon seeing a sleep-ruffled Price. “And you did not make it easy.”

Price huffed, though the sound was more embarrassed than annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nikolai hesitated for only a moment before his hand drifted toward his pocket. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he were weighing every motion. “It means,” he said softly, “you said something last night. Something I cannot stop thinking about.”

Price’s brow furrowed again, his confusion clear as Nikolai withdrew the small velvet box. The air seemed to still as Nikolai opened it, revealing the ring inside. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the faint gleam of the metal, and Price’s breath hitched.

“Nik…” he began, but the words faltered on his lips.

“You called me your husband,” Nikolai said, his voice steady despite the emotion that thickened the air between them. “You were half-asleep, but you said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

Price stared at him, his eyes flicking between the ring and Nikolai’s face. He looked as though he were trying to piece together a puzzle, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something deeper.

“You called me your husband,” Nikolai repeated, his voice quieter now. “And I cannot pretend it meant nothing to hear it.”

For a moment, Price didn’t speak. Then, slowly, he raised a hand to his face, scrubbing at his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice thick. “I… I said that?”

“You did,” Nikolai said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “And I would like to make it true.”

The words hung in the air, soft but unyielding. Nikolai held the ring out between them, his gaze steady. “John Price,” he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty, “will you marry me?”

Price froze. His breath caught in his chest, and for a long moment, he simply stared, his mind racing. Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them, spilling over as he let out a shaky breath.

“Nik,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I…”

Nikolai reached for him, his hand brushing against Price’s arm in a grounding gesture. “If this is not what you want—”

“Yes,” Price interrupted, his voice breaking. He lowered his hand, his tears falling freely now, but his smile was radiant. “Yes, Nik. Of course, yes.”

Relief washed over Nikolai in a wave, his shoulders sagging as he let out a quiet laugh. He slid the ring onto Price’s finger with practiced care, his hands steady despite the overwhelming rush of emotion. Price stared at the ring for a long moment, his lips pressing together as fresh tears welled in his eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” Price asked finally, his voice raw. “You really want to marry an old bastard like me?”

Nikolai let out a soft laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of Price’s head. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Price let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, pulling Nikolai into a tight embrace. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the world outside fading into nothing as they held each other. For the first time in days, Price felt something ease—a weight lifting from his chest, replaced by something warm and unshakable.

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet settling over them like a warm blanket. Price’s breathing slowed, steady and calm, his fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the blanket as though grounding himself. Nikolai stayed close, his arms wrapped securely around Price, letting the moment stretch. There was no need for words—not now. The tension that had haunted Price for days seemed to have melted away, leaving only the quiet certainty of the present.

A knock at the door broke the stillness, soft but insistent.

“Captain?” Soap’s voice carried through, its usual lightness subdued but still familiar. “We’ve got some food for you. Can we come in?”

Price shifted slightly, his hands dropping to his lap as he sat up. His head tilted toward the door, and he wiped at his face with one hand, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Give us a minute,” he called, his voice hoarse but steady.

Nikolai leaned back, studying him for a moment before brushing a hand lightly over his arm. “Are you ready?”

Price nodded, his eyes still shining faintly with emotion but his expression calm. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Nikolai stood first, offering Price a steadying hand as he got to his feet. Price accepted it without hesitation, his fingers tightening briefly around Nikolai’s before letting go. Together, they turned toward the door, and Nikolai gave a small nod.

“Come in,” he said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone who knew exactly what waited on the other side.

The door opened cautiously, Soap stepping in first with Gaz close behind. Both of them carried trays, the smell of hot food wafting into the room, but their eyes were immediately drawn to Price. He stood by the bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes still slightly red-rimmed. Nikolai stood close beside him, his arm resting lightly at Price’s back in a gesture so natural it barely registered.

“What’s happened?” Ghost’s voice came from behind the others, softer than usual but edged with concern as he stepped into view. His gaze flicked over Price, his posture tensing as he took in the faint tear tracks still visible on his captain’s face.

Soap froze, his tray wobbling slightly as he glanced at Nikolai. “We’re not interruptin’, are we?”

“Not at all,” Nikolai replied smoothly, his hand giving a subtle, reassuring press to Price’s back.

Price lifted his hand then, the small silver ring catching the light. The gesture was simple but carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said yet.

Nikolai smiled softly, his voice steady as he added, “I finally proposed.”

The room went silent, the words hanging in the air like a sudden drop of weight. Soap’s tray dipped precariously before he caught himself, his mouth falling open slightly.

“Proposed?” Gaz repeated, his voice rising with a mix of surprise and joy. His grin spread slowly, lighting up his face. “Bloody hell, about time!”

Soap recovered quickly, setting the tray down on the nearest surface with a loud clatter. “Aye, no kidding!” he crowed, clapping his hands together. “Congratulations, Cap. And you, Nik! This is brilliant!”

Ghost didn’t say anything right away. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate as he reached out, his hand settling heavily on Price’s shoulder. His grip was firm, steady, and when Price met his gaze, something unspoken passed between them.

“Congratulations, John,” Ghost said finally, his voice softer than usual. “You deserve this.”

Price smiled, his hand reaching up to clasp Ghost’s shoulder briefly before pulling him into a hug. It was solid, grounding, a rare gesture that carried all the weight of their shared history. Ghost stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his hand clapping against Price’s back.

“Proud of you,” Ghost murmured, his voice low but warm. “But if he hurts you I’ll gut him like a fish, yeah?”

“Thank you, Simon,” Price replied with a laugh, but full of emotion as he pulled back.

Soap let out a cheer, breaking the moment as he strode over to Nikolai. Without hesitation, he threw an arm around Nikolai in a one-sided hug, grinning like he’d just won a bet. “You’ve got my blessing, mate—not that you needed it.”

Gaz was next, his hug more measured but no less genuine. “Couldn’t be happier for you two,” he said with a smile. “Seriously.”

Even Ghost’s expression softened as he glanced at Nikolai. Though he didn’t hug him, he gave a faint nod of approval, the weight of it clear.

The room filled with laughter and congratulations as the initial shock wore off. Soap clapped Nikolai on the back one more time before turning his attention to the food, while Gaz hovered close, still grinning. Price stood steady in the centre of it all, Nikolai at his side, their connection unspoken but unbreakable.

“You lot brought food, didn’t you?” Price asked after a moment, his tone teasing but warm.

Soap gestured toward the trays. “Aye, that we did. Figured you’d be starvin’ after sleepin’ the day away.”

“Not quite the whole day,” Price muttered, though his lips quirked into a small smile.

As the team settled in, their laughter and easy banter filling the space, Price glanced toward Nikolai. The smile they shared was quiet, private, but it spoke volumes.

For the first time in a long time, Price allowed himself to believe in the promise of the future—and the certainty that Nikolai would be by his side through it all.

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