#callsignpxnguin

[callsignpxnguin]

Just imagine sleeping with bear hybrid Price. Like, that man is already a living heater, but add bear to the mix?

Heavenly snuggles.

Obviously, the constant ops mean that he isn’t actually able to hibernate properly — much to his annoyance — but it does mean that whenever he does get the chance to rest, like when he’s back home for a few days, he’s out like a light.

And he takes you with him.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing — if Price gets the urge for any reason, his thick arms are around your torso and pressing you to his side within moments. Unfortunately for you, being his mate, his sleepiness will often affect you as well — so one moment you’ll be standing up and making dinner, and the next you’ll be crumpling limply against his chest with your eyes fluttering, already half-asleep.

You’ll sometimes complain about it, but honestly? Nothing made you feel safer than sleeping with your huge, affectionate bear hybrid husband.

[kissmxcheek]

Flash & Focus - series masterlist

series description: new to metropolis and the daily planet, you find yourself falling for your deskmate, Clark Kent, who you're convinced will never look your way. a rescue from attempted mugging becomes many late nights spent with superman on your apartment balcony... god why does he seem so familiar?

warnings/tags: use of yn, fluff, angst, ..serious tension, lois lane supremacy:)

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part 1 - 2k words

part 2 - 5k words

part 3 - 3k words

part 4 - 2k words

part 5 - 3k words

(part 6 teaser)

part 6 - 5k words

(part 7 teaser)

part 7 - 7k words

part 8 - coming soon!

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a/n: it's finally here! pls pls comment any suggestions you have for where the story should go and dms are open if you'd like the proofread or see the next part early 👀 thank u lovelies for letting me b creative (and take my sweet time writing lol)

taglist: @liuralibrar @icybarness @angel-dust-cb @crbpoetry @aim-formyheart @lavendermoons222 @10hrs26mn @linambc @casalucard @ticklish-leafy-plant @asteria33 @tati-the-fangirl @g4rb4ge-dump @yourmyonlyobsession @voidsxntry @my-little-secret-diaries @britttzy267 @nothere2478 @hagarsays @otakusimp1 @twsssmlmaa @kitten-daisy @qardasngan @writerreal @please-help-this-little-lesbian @brillitos-azules @selfishlycalculatingvisitor @pleasecallmeunhinged @materialgirl-97 @ldrfanatic @bellegirl16 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @khxna @rorysbrainrot @smolivin @screamingplastictoenail88 @slayerofthevampire @kneelarmhstrung @227777777333 @ifilwtmfc @loftilyviolentthunder @justp3achy03 @animegamerfox @nina-from-317 @sizzlingkryptonitetale @arcaichive @bamitzzsam @bellascrap @dntdltkss @livbonnet @scorpio-echo @bloodiedlusts @corenswetwife @lanasdolll @kai59999901 @ivegotdaddyissues @americanboz0 @ayy1234567 @jenneric2003 @areleine @turtle-in-a-tornado @keiralovesmoony @smellybad @shortandb1tchy @i1ovedeanwinchester @lando-scales @lilac-and-cherries @bananaminion678 @azrielsbbg @annabethboleyn @odevote118 @the-hist0rian @cyntsvmv @novausstuff @lecwife @reiofsuns2001 @renaeant @sleeplessskeleton @nanamilkbread @after8hore @abasnail28 @vanessalovesonedirection @annieaniya @nixandtonic @rhiannonhippiegirl @dvdsniffer @negasonic-teenage-asshole @jsjajsjsnannzjisjs @andriannag @booknerd62529 @imsonotweird @gwcses @infinitepersuasion @dreamer7black @sofia-1d @dazecrea @adoringanakin @trentknd @juskonutoh @sapphichotmess @callsignpxnguin @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @lleahhhhhh @xxreyofsunshinexx @1800-fight-me @hockeyboysarehot @coupdc

comment to be added to the taglist 💕

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[gazstations]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Come Home, My Darling

CHAPTER TWO

► John Price x female!reader

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

synopsis— Details of why Kyle pulled your family from your home come clear. Meanwhile, you and John share a special moment alone.

warnings— Smut :)

wc— 3.6K

NOTES—I'm breaking my no writing smut rule for you guys. This one scene popped into my head, and I decided it was necessary to add, hehe. A special thanks to @callsignpxnguin for being a real one and beta reading it.

NAVIGATION MASTERLIST || AO3 PROFILE || TAGLIST GOOGLE FORM

SERIES MASTERLIST || NEXT

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN ON THIS SIDE OF JOHN’S JOB. You always felt disconnected from this reality, for good reason. John escaped into another world as soon as you saw him off, perched on the wooden boards of your porch. Detail was a fact that was purged from your mind.

You had been on the base premises under ten times during your relationship with John. Most of it far off in another past when you did not have little footprints on your body from the two kids you brought into this world. The last trip willingly to this location had to have been when William was just a blip in your womb.

You were not accustomed to the way anxiety swelled inside you when you were here. Nor did you like the way three burly soldiers hovered around you, faces stoic and attentive. Gaz would've been present, but he offered to watch the kids since he already had a thorough rundown of the situation.

The sympathetic glance he sent your way as he was leaving did not help the way your stomach curled.

Kate Laswell stood in front of your ragtag group, stress written all over her face. You couldn’t remember the last time she taken a break. Even John managed some leave time and he was a workaholic. But Kate was someone that needed to keep parts moving and relay many components of information to different subgroups. What she did was not an easy feat. You respected the hell out of her.

Maybe you'd convince her to have one day with you. If she wasn't off in America.

“There is no easy way to say this…” Kate started. She dropped several closed files on the table between all of you and looked to you and then John. “But your family is in danger. Enough to turn some heads.”

“The point, Kate,” John, arms crossed and face crinkling with stress, interrupted impatiently. You pinched his arm, urging him to allow Kate her own space.

“Someone requested a hit on your family,” Kate continued.

She opened one of the files, and John took it but obscured your vision when you tried to get a glimpse as well. You frowned when John didn't acknowledge your bitter attempts to see the contents.

You did watch as his stance grew rigid, a scowl appearing on his lips. He swallowed, Adam's apple bulging slowly down his throat. His expression went blank, the black of his pupils blowing out the deep blue.

“What fucking creep took pictures of my kids!” He hissed.

Your eyes widened and you gripped the tan colored manila folder from his hands before he could stop you. You scanned the page presented to you, a horrified gasp escaping your lips. Seeing your kids playing unsuspecting in the front yard of your home caught as evidence for a bigger monster made your blood run cold.

John was on your defense in seconds. He pulled you towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His large hand pressed flat on your back. You could feel the slight shake in his body - whether from fear or anger, you didn't know.

John's touch soothed you. It always did. But even then, the foundations of your sanctuary were crumbling. You had to remind yourself that William and Edith were currently safe. they were most likely making a jungle gym out of Kyle, overjoyed to be with their uncle again.

“It's alright, darling,” he muttered. “Nothing is going to happen to them.”

Would it be okay? Someone had slipped into the cracks of your home and advertised purity in the cruelest way. You wanted to vomit your insides out.

You had always cherished how safe you felt at the cottage John built for you. but this was an invasion that infected your mind. How could you go back when the damage had already been done. Someone had broadcasted your precious life to people who didn't have a shred of deserving.

A bitter resentment for John's job lingered inside you. You always worried that he wouldn't be the one returning, but maybe you should've been more concerned about the fact that you and your babies were now endangered.

You knew that if something happened to them, there would be no forgiveness towards John. You were still feeling disheartened by his dismissal of your fears earlier. The question of whether or not he would ever choose the three of you taunted you. Maybe he didn't choose family fast enough.

You never knew the names or details of the enemies John made. You knew that he had scars that haunted him in the dead of night - some innocent and some necessary.

Sometimes, you found it hard to grapple that your husband was a killer. When his hands traced the dimples and natural bends of your body, you never thought about how they had been stained an inky crimson. The same hands that kept the world clean provided comfort for the children.

“Maybe you shouldn't listen to this,” Kate spoke through the long silence. Her eyes analyzed you closely as your head turned to meet hers. You frowned, a steely determination growing in your heart.

“No. I'm staying,” you said sternly. “You are not keeping this from me. I want the details.”

Kate looked hesitant. It wasn't often civilians became privy to knowledge they discussed privately.

“She's staying.” John had your back. But he knew you well enough to predict that locking you out would only create a very pissed off mother. While he never wanted you to be involved, it was inevitable at this point.

Soap shifted, opening his mouth. “Watcher, ye got any trace of an IP?”

Kate shook her head. “The only thing we currently know is what was willingly shared. Someone has a bid going. Dead, alive, injured - they don't care. Someone wants to see John burn.”

“Yeah, so do a lot of people,” John huffed.

“No one has directly attacked your family before, though, sir,” Ghost spoke.

John couldn’t argue that. Someone was bold. You watched his face show more and more stress. John always prided himself on how well he protected his family's identity.

“Did someone access files then?” Soap questioned.

Kate nodded, “A week ago. Someone with high-level security clearance requested access to the database.”

“Who's badge was scanned?” John asked. He pulled away from you, taking the manila folder back from your clenched fists.

“It was wiped,” Kate informed.

“Inside job then,” Soap muttered in exasperation. “Steamin' jesus, that raises more concerns.”

You didn't like this discussion. while it was intriguing to see the way they bounced off of each other, you never wished for it to be in this situation. There was a target on your back and it unsettled you. As if a sniper shot was going to sound just as a window shattered from a bullet.

You had seen John's scars. You couldn’t fathom the vile things that would be done to you to really grind John's heart into a pulp.

“General Shepard is leaving us dry on this one,” Kate speaks, and Ghost lets out a huff.

“Bloody bastard,” he remarks.

“Our research is on us now,” Kate explains. “We're dealing with someone on the inside. So I started making preparation for a protective custody.”

Your throat felt dry. No, you wanted to go home and pretend your bubble was still secure. How would you explain this to the kids? Could you? Your breath stuttered as you processed the words.

“Absolutely fucking not,” John snapped. Maybe you both didn't want to accept defeat.

“Your home isn't safe. The base might not be safe either,” Kate said matter of factly. You respected her ability to keep her cool and declare what needed to be done. But you loathed the current plan.

“You're asking my family to go dark, Kate,” John argued. He dropped the manila folder onto the table and leaned over it.

“Cap, it's better than nothing,” Soap argued.

John sighed, a hesitant resolve washing over his face. His blue eyes blinked over to you, and you offered him a sad attempt of a comforting smile. You didn't want to leave him either. It felt different from the times he left you during deployments.

“For how long, Kate?” you asked.

“I wish I knew,” Kate admitted. There was nothing satisfying about this desperate end to hopefully prevent a tragedy. “Could be a long time. Until we know the threat is clear.”

“Were other files pulled?” Ghost questioned.

“Kyle’s file was accessed a day ago,” Kate reported.

“They're looking for weak points then,” Ghost concluded.

“Sounds like they weren't expecting to find Cap's family,” Soap added.

Knowing there was a hunt for more files a week after John's was accessed was unnerving. Were they trying to avoid arousing suspicion by delaying each search? That was your best bet. Even if it wasn't your job, you couldn’t help but analyze the data presented as if you would figure out some useful intel for a group of trained military operators and a member of the CIA.

“A likely possibility,” Kate agreed.

This was information you never expected to know. The weight of John’s world settled on you, and you felt a bit nauseous. You knew his job was far more dangerous than the average person, but what it sounded like to you was that he had personal adversaries. What the fuck was your husband a part of?

“Is Kyle’s family in danger then?” You asked in a concerned tone. You met Kyle’s sister at your wedding years ago when he brought her as his plus one. She was a sweetheart as much as she was a badass. You admired her.

“We can’t go off speculation right now,” Kate said. “I’m worried about you and the kids right now. We put our resources into keeping you safe.”

You wanted to protest, but Kate had years of experience in this sort of thing. You had to trust her. Even if your instincts told you to protect everyone. You didn’t want something to happen to Jocelyn while you were being secured.

“I put a warning on all of the team’s files. If anyone tries to access Soap or Ghost’s next it’ll hopefully be brought to my attention,” Kate added when no one said anything.

“They wouldn’t find anything,” you hear Ghost mutter under his breath. You catch it and curl your fingers around the implication. A loner. But not necessarily alone. His only family was the one in this room and down the hallway. He seemed indifferent to the fact he had no one to return home to.

You don’t harp on that detail. Ghost’s business is his own.

“The family has been approved to stay on base until I settle the terms of the custody,” Kate continued her speech.

Meanwhile, you were just trying to put all the puzzle pieces together. You had been living in blissful peace up until now. Now, you hoped the beast in the shadows didn't bear their fangs and wrap you in their drooling maw.

You were in danger just by association.

John’s large paw was on your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Come on, darling. You need rest.”

You didn't, but you humored him.

♡◇♡

John clung to you that night. All day, he had a tension rooted deep in his bones. His eyes crinkled, and his lips were straight as he lingered in the discomfort of his mind. You knew he was discontent with the way his face scrunched up momentarily, and he mumbled to himself.

The kids were happy to occupy their father's time while on base. You watched them in the common room, a fond smile on your face as John let Edith curl into his side. His low timbre always sounded so heavenly when he read, and you found yourself enraptured by his spoken word as well.

You did love John. Deeply.

This cresting resentment was because you knew he could do better. He could come home, become a retired veteran, and create a little nook where his new life lay. He wasn't all malice and crippled bone.

He would be good at it. You longed to see him in a different light. Tummy layered by a healthy fat because he could indulge in your cooking more. A softness in his eyes when he realized he no longer had to be the one running head first into the flame. Maybe you'd glide your fingers up the fur on his chest and beg for another baby.

And there would be a sweet contentment when he covered your body with his brawny form and relished in your pleasure.

Soap and Gaz, being the doting uncles they were, paraded around with your little hellions. Letting you finally quiet your mind for just a moment. John remained glued to your side, silent but attentive. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wanted something.

Maybe you did as well. Desperation to remain together bred into something more.

You were supposed to be going to dinner. Instead, you decided to drown yourself in the shower. The water wasn't hot, but the lukewarm temperature kept you vigilant. You hummed softly as you ran soap along your body.

A tempting display for your prowling bear.

His hairy chest rubbed against your back just as you scrubbed the flesh of your thighs. The soap wasn't your typical scented one, but you made do with what you had. The team was returning home to collect items you'd need tomorrow. You could handle the unfamiliarity for a bit longer.

John's lips attached to your vulnerable neck a second later, facial hair tickling and burning your delicate skin. You sighed softly, reaching back to run a hand through his short hair. His meaty, calloused palms wandered the bends of your stomach as he peppered your neck in his kisses.

You pulled softly on the top of his head, making him grunt.

John picked your chin up with one of his hands, turning your head and then the rest of your body so he could see you clearly. You smiled as blue analyzed you with gentle love, his eyes crinkling at the edges as they flickered down to your lips and then your eyes. This time, the crinkle was born out of the quiet happiness to be in your orbit like this. Was this the emotional goodbye intimacy you dreaded since the meeting?

John quelled your nagging thoughts when he pressed a fervent kiss to your waiting lips. He groaned the moment you returned his gesture, one hand sliding up to cup at your cheek as he bullied you into the shower wall. The tile was cool against your spine, and you tensed for a moment, but your husband was warm and tethered, and it seeped into you.

Your breaths were hot in their exchange, that desperation taking command now. John made you linger there, soaking up the musk of the last cigar he smoked. You licked at him like he was the last slice of heaven you could possibly touch. Maybe he was. Your husband was your fine crafted version of your beginning and end.

Your hands pawed at the hard muscle of his biceps, searching for a nice place to sink your claws and make him remember you always. He let out a deep chuckle against your prodding lips, a sound that settled in the crevices of your stomach.

His hand descended between the valley of your breasts, rolling one of the nipples teasingly. Just enough for you to ache for more with a small complaint. His fingers left goosebumps on your naked stomach, muscles rippling as he snaked his digits down to your mound.

Your hips canted towards him and he finally released your wet lips. Your eyes blinked open to find the wild reality you were putting your husband in. His blue irises were swallowed by feral black, his gaze smothered you whole and ignited the burning fire in your core.

A small gasp left your lips when he sunk his index and middle finger into the warmth of your damp folds. He hissed, leaning forwards to nip at your jaw once before he played with you.

“Shh, darling…” He rumbled. “I got you.”

His free hand returned to your neglected and teased chest. He tweaked at one nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his dexterous fingers. All the while, his fingers glided through your arousal, prodding at the entrance to your welcoming pussy.

You panted against his lips as you pulled him into you again. You wanted to be enveloped by him. Until his essence entwined around your ribs and merged into your bone marrow. With him, you would bloom soft, colorful petals along the muscle of your body.

You pulled back to let out a soft whine when he finally slipped his index finger into your fluttering walls. Your fingers dug into the flesh on his shoulder, making him shift the way he was standing. His knee knocked against your sensitive clit as he went chest to chest with you. Everything was him as his form pressed closer to you, his lips attaching to your neck one more.

“John…” You whined pitifully. It was just his fingers and yet you were unwound and vulnerable. Legs jelly and body completely reliant on him to keep you steady in the shower's stream.

“I know, darling,” John cooed, baritone coming straight from his chest. “So sweet for me.”

Your hips rocked rhythmically to his fingers’ tune. He found your cunt sloppy and warm, yearning for how little or how much he could give. His deft fingers curled at the first knuckle, biting at your soft walls until he hit the pressure point that made you writhe even more.

You trailed a hand down his stomach, eyes half-lidded as you grabbed at the rigid length of his cock. His eyes focused on you immediately, desire cooling on his face. You palmed at him, moaning softly as your pleasure reached a crescendo.

You wanted him to join you.

But John had other plans.

An expression akin to disappointment marked his face as he pulled your hand from his cock. He kissed you once - placating your confused hum and rolled his thumb over your pulsating clitoris bringing back the honeyed pleasure from your parted lips.

“This is ‘bout you, pretty girl,” he purred.

He doubled his efforts, lips descending upon a perky nipple, tongue laving over the area until you pulled at his hair. He rolled his fingers inside you, making your voice reach a higher pitch as your orgasm crested further.

Your arms helplessly flung around him, holding him just as close as he was you. You raised a leg, opening yourself further for his prying limbs. He supported you, keeping you flush against the wall in case you slipped.

Your eyes flickered down to him, catching that the deep blue in his eyes had returned and he was watching you. Water plastered wispy flyaways to his forehead. He looked utterly debauched even though you were the one being ruined.

The mixture of sensation brought you to a satisfying end. You tucked your face into his neck as you trembled against him, coating his fingers in milky release. Your chest heaved and John held you, rubbing at your back with one hand, the other still tucked between the throbbing cleft of your pussy.

“That's my good girl,” he praised.

He straightened, one last sad whine pulling from your lips when his sopping fingers left your warmth. A slow smirk formed on his face as he looked you dead in the eye, relishing in your afterglow as he traced his fingers to his crude mouth and sucked at your essence.

It made your pussy pulse again. Yearning for more.

“C'mon, darling,” John spoke normally again. “Let's get you cleaned up some more.”

Words of questioning died on your lips as soon as the spray of water rained over your head. Your body was exhausted just from that one orgasm, and you relaxed under the flow as John tended to you. His hands were gentle, chaste as he ensured you were refreshed.

You appreciated him.

“You didn't get off,” You spoke, voice leveling to soft tones.

John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple as he rinsed the last bit of soap from your body. “��M fine. Was about you. That can happen later,” he declared.

“Not now?” You asked. You knew he was wanting. Could still feel his aching against the small of your back. You pushed back experimentally, reveling in the way his breath hitched.

His palm splayed out against your belly, pushing gently “I would love to have you right now,” his voice was thick with barely contained arousal. “But I gotta get you to dinner. ‘Fore my sergeants break down the door with our kids.”

You smiled, understanding even if you had to cool the burning in your core for the time being. You turned and nuzzled your nose against his, a silent acknowledgement to his words. John responded to that with a peck to your forehead.

In the afterglow, reality started to crash through the temporary facade of bliss. You knew you had to return to the truth of your current world eventually. Though, it was nice to live in a complacent heaven for just a moment.

“I love you…” You confessed. Are we going to be okay?

“I love you, too, darling,” John responded. We're going to be okay.

You took his quiet assurance and cradled it tightly in a white-knuckled grip.

TAGLIST

@callsignpxnguin @crystal-freak24 @haneybunny @tenshis-cake @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @thriving-n-jiving @leon-thot-kennedy

If you would like to be added for future chapters, let me know by filling out my google form!

[gazstations]

Thank you for the tag, baby! Love you 🥹

No pressure tags: @sillyswriting @callsignpxnguin @lialucis

Tag game: make yourself as a little guy

Tagged by: @thanatos-zagreus-shagreus

Tagging: @thiamsxbitch @rhyslahey @myinnerguineapig and whoever else is up for doing it 💙

[callsignpxnguin]

Superman who, a few years ago, caught you as you jumped off of the highest bridge you could find.

Superman who stares at you in alarm and panic, stammering something about how there wasn’t a monster, so why were you falling?

Superman who takes you, trembling and sniffling, home — and stays with you until you’re feeling better.

Superman who’s been checking up on you ever since, to make sure you’re doing okay.

Clark Kent who stares at you with that spark of recognition — and fear — in his eyes when you appear at the Daily Planet as the new secretary.

[callsignpxnguin]

Gaz would actually make the best boyfriend and I won’t be taking criticism.

Always knows just what you need, always willing to talk things out, always just the sweetest person you can imagine. So supportive and yet simultaneously so fun to be around when you two are messing about.

And I KNOW I write loads of oneshots with sleepy cuddling but please hear me out:

Him having been your childhood best friend and so you coming to every one of his family reunions, but this is the first time you two are attending together as a couple. Everyone cooing over how they knew all along, and how perfect the two of you are together, because you just know each other so well.

Family movie night that evening where you doze off on his shoulder on the loveseat you’re sharing, and him just wrapping a blanket around your shoulder and stroking your arm. Watching you fondly as you inhale and exhale, dark eyes sparkling.

[callsignpxnguin]

John Price Feared Dead

AO3

The call wasn’t like anything you had been expecting.

You knew your husband’s job was dangerous. Of course you did. But you had never really known. Not until now.

The stuff you were aware of only scratched the surface of what his life was like — dinners with his team, listening in on Laswell’s briefings, being alone for months on end as he was send out of the country to fight the enemy and whatnot.

But it never seemed real. Never affected you, all that much, until you got the call.

“Hey, Mrs. Price.”

You would’ve recognised that Scottish accent anywhere. Only, today it didn’t hold its usual joy and cheek.

“Good evening, Johnny. What can I do for you?” You replied cheerily, phone pressed against your ear as you worked on stirring the stew you had been making especially for your husband’s return after three weeks away.

The man didn't respond, which you considered strange, since he usually couldn’t shut up. “Johnny?” You repeated. “Hello?”

“…I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, voice breaking.

Immediately, your pulse quickened. “Sorry for what?”

There was a crackle of static over the line, before a new voice, deeper with a different accent, rang out.

“Last op didn’t go so well. Captain didn’t make it to evac with the rest of us. We need you to come to base as the… last effort to find him is sent out.”

You froze. “Repeat that, Simon?”

Ghost grunted quietly. He was a cold man, but a good man at heart. You trusted him — and the other two, for that matter — with your life. “Captain’s feared dead. Need you to come to base.”

The bowl you had been holding dropped like a dead weight, shattering across the tiled floor and slicing into your bare feet in jagged shards.

“What the hell was that?” Simon grunted. But his voice wasn’t as assertive as usual. He was genuinely concerned.

And for a man as stoic and uncaring as him…

“I’m coming,” you whispered into the speaker, before promptly ending the call, rushing outside uncaring of the mess you had left, and hailing the first taxi you saw.

•

On the ride to the base, you were silent.

Silent, but sobbing — thick tears completely blocking your vision and rolling down your cheeks as you stared at nothing, the roaring in your mind too loud to think about anything but Simon’s words. They reverberated over and over again, haunting and tormenting you.

Captain’s feared dead.

Fucking hell.

Even the driver had noticed — a poor man who had watched the young woman with bare, bleeding feet and puffy eyes jump into his car and not say a single word except for her destination, and could offer only the timid comfort of, “Everything okay?”

To which you didn’t respond. Not out of intention, but pure shock.

The world seemed to rush by at an odd pace, your vision zoning in and out as trees rushed by the window. Reality didn’t feel real. This was something out of your nightmares, and yet it was plaguing you in the waking world.

John hadn’t made it to exfil. They were sending out a last-ditch effort to collect him. But in his line of work?

People who didn’t make it back were rarely ever seen again.

He could have been dead. At that exact moment, as you sat rigidly, he could have been taking his final breaths before he left the world forever.

John. Your John. Gone.

And they didn’t even know where he was. It wasn’t like there was even a chance you would ever get to say goodbye, just to his unresponsive body. He could have been lying in a ditch, bleeding out, dying in the middle of nowhere — and that would be it. You wouldn’t even see him again at the funeral. He’d be food for the worms and nothing more, destroying you are everything you had built together.

The onslaught of tears came on again, flooding your face and wetting your flushed cheeks. This time, they didn’t subside.

The rest of the car ride was torture.

•

“Where’s Ghost?”

The security guard at the gate had let you in immediately — you weren’t exactly a stranger to everyone after all the years you had spent turning up to surprise your well-respected husband at work — but you hadn’t found anyone you recognised yet on base, and the Task Force’s usual quarters were all empty.

The poor rookie who you had hissed the question at trembled under your piercing gaze. At this point, all the sorrow that you felt had solidified into something sharper as your body strained to process the devastating onslaught without shutting down. Right now, all you could feel was rage. “I— I think he’s at the heli pad, m-m-miss…”

You were striding off before he even finished his sentence.

Every step hurt. Every step thrummed in your head like a gong, blurring your vision and deafening your ears.

Heli pad.

Was it good news that the team was waiting on a heli to return? Bad? There were only a handful of possible things that could be brought with a chopper’s arrival — John alive, John dead, or no John at all.

You still weren’t sure, out of the latter, which would be worse. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hope for the former.

Couldn’t bring yourself to think of much more than the pain. Physical, mental, it all seemed to ebb and flow into one vessel of agony that tormented you endlessly.

Cold air bit your skin as you left the main quarters and stepped outside into the yard, where most machinery and vehicles were kept. You spotted them immediately — three 300-pound-men were hard to miss, even in camouflage gear — but their backs were facing you, and their heads were upturned to the sky.

Again, you spotted the reason why immediately— because a helicopter was descending.

You could feel your heart stop in your chest. Freeze into a screeching halt, because this was all too soon. You didn’t want to find out the answer. It was too soon for you to reach the final conclusion. You had only found out mere hours ago, and now came the final reckoning?

The hulking metal beast touched down, whirring propellers slowing and humming engine quieting. So quiet.

Too quiet.

Then the front door opened, and—

“John?”

Oh God. He was there, in the flesh, right in front of you — a stupidly confused expression on his stupidly handsome face as he stood there stupidly casually…

He was alive. Oh God. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…

Rough beard, soft blue eyes, and rugged physique as he stumbled out from the helicopter. Beaten and bruised, but alive.

The tears came back in tenfold, rolling down your flushed cheeks uncontrollably as your numb legs propelled themselves forwards, pushing past the surprised team in front of you, and flung you into his chest, sobbing.

“John,” you whimpered, ignoring the calls from Soap.

“I— hey, sweetheart,” he rumbled, voice unsteady.

You trembled violently. “They told me— I thought— thought you were—“

“I know, love, I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here.” His voice was so thick and raspy, as if he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I don’t know how, but I’m here. Hey, don’t cry…”

You kept crying, salty tears soaking though his vest and gear. He made no move to stop you.

After a good while, you finally managed to pull your gaze up to meet his baby blues, and you swore you could’ve seen heaven reflected in those glassy, gorgeous irises.

“I love you, John,” you whimpered quietly, body still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was ever going to stop, after the fright you had experienced.

Even those words, once full of so much meaning and love, seemed weak and void of the substance you wanted to convey as you uttered them to the man you would give your own life for. Three words did nothing to describe the way you felt.

But then again, what else was there to say? You didn’t need metaphors or meticulous poetry to express yourself, because loving him wasn’t a story but a fact, a part of you — plain and simple.

And when he repeated them back to you, you knew he understood.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, his grip on your arms tightening. He didn’t let go until much, much later.

•

Later that evening, John was sat on the couch, you curled up in his lap and gripping him firmly even in sleep. A few medics and recruits he knew were there too, but he had one question meant for one specific person.

“She was really that bad?” He asked Simon lowly, pulling you a little closer to him.

The man only grunted. "A'most hysterical. Johnny thought she was close to jumping off the roof."

John shuddered, before sighing thickly and looking down at you. Peaceful in sleep, chest rising and falling evenly, but… the way you clung onto him and the way your eyebrows furrowed suggested more stress in you than he would've ever wanted.

God. This had always been his fear when you two first became official. It had been why he always distanced himself from partners in the past, and why it had taken him so long to let you in.

John didn’t know what to say. Because whilst his role in the military was vital, the sleeping angel on his chest was… everything. And he knew he’d give up everyone else he’d ever worked for just to keep her for a little longer than the universe set out to allow.

He looked up at Simon, and nodded once. In understanding, but also in communication. The other man understood.

Understood that from now on, no matter what happened, he would always choose you.

[gazstations]

Pancakes for the win. With some good cherry syrup 🤤

@anaburbononburbon @callsignpxnguin

I'm boutta start a war on Tumblr

Pancakes or Waffles (Reblog with answer then tag more people)

@mifgirlcomics @belladeezbombz

@mosslover999 @the-real-great-papyrus

[callsignpxnguin]

Beach Day… Gone Wrong?

during a well-deserved day off with your boyfriend, you discover just how treacherous currents can be — and just how scared clark can get when you’re put in true danger, not just from supervillains.

superman x fem!reader 2k words CW: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, open sea, almost drowning, worried clark A/N: this is the first of a few small fluffy stories to satiate those waiting for the long one i’ve been teasing :) enjoy! also — opinions on the new formatting style?

You had been looking forward to this trip for months.

It had been ages since you had been able to go on a vacation. Which made sense, considering your boyfriend was one of the only things preventing Metropolis from being wiped off the map, but still. You hadn’t been able to get out of the city in ages, especially with Clark by your side. But now, thank goodness, you were finally able to run away to paradise if only for a few hours whilst the Justice Gang managed to cover Superman for a day.

And it felt like nothing short of paradise.

“It’s so sunny! And pretty!” You swooned, as you and Clark had your first view of the beach. Pure white sand stretched out for miles either side of you, and crystal clear waters lapped at its edge, foaming gently as crests in the distance gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight. Clark just nodded and grinned a little nervously, still unsure about leaving the city for so long but obviously pleased at your outward expression of joy.

“It’s… gorgeous, yeah. Golly.” He shifted the backpack slung over his shoulder subconsciously.

Somehow, you had managed to find a place that was right near the city and virtually deserted, so you essentially had the whole expanse to yourself. It was a miracle.

“Quick, Clark, come make a sandcastle with me!” You exclaimed, dropping your bags in the shade by a palm tree and sprinting the water’s edge before grabbing his hand and pulling him alongside you.

”I— hang on!” He quickly shook off his own bags before letting you drag him away. Even though he still wasn’t sure about the trip, he’d let you do anything you wanted to him. Especially when you were so happy and enthusiastic about it all.

”You’re still so tense,” you teased, poking his thick bicep gently as you sat cross-legged on the sand. “Metropolis will be okay for one day. Just enjoy this!”

”…Okay,” he mumbled, sitting next to you. “You want to build a sandcastle, right?”

”Yep!” You hummed happily, already filling the bucket and spade you had brought with sand and seawater alternately.

You shot a sideways glance at Clark as he helped you wordlessly, and couldn’t help but smile. His dark brows were furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out just slightly from between his lips. In that moment he was so adorable that you couldn’t help but peck his cheek affectionately, causing him to look up in surprise. “What was that for?”

”No reason,” you giggled, shuffling closer to him as he began to carve out a window. He just chuckled quietly, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead.

A light breeze blew past, and your shoulders dropped in pleasure as you relished in the way it danced on your exposed collarbone. You wondered when the last time that Clark got a chance to really relax was. Honestly, if you weren’t there to force him to take a break, you were convinced that he would work himself to death before even considering taking a day off.

You giggled like a kid as you drew something in the sand next to the now almost-finished castle with your finger, gesturing for Clark to come and see once you were done. “Look! A heart!”

The man glanced over curiously, before flushing right up to the tips of his ears. You had indeed drawn a heart — but not just a heart. Beside it you had also doodled two stick figures holding hands and smiling, and they looked awfully familiar, even without the names scribbled underneath. “Is that supposed to be us?”

”Of course. Is it not obvious? I even added labels.”

“My apologies. You’re a true artist. Hang on, now I want to do one.” True to his word, Clark began to draw something of his own in the sand. You were a little perplexed at first, the shapes he was making seeming quite abstract, but then it clicked and you laughed out loud. “It’s Krypto!”

“I’m really impressed you managed to make that out. He seems more like a blob.” Clark squinted at his artwork, before grinning, wrapping an arm around your waist, and burying his face in your neck. “You smell good…”

“I bought a new moisturiser,” you laughed, pushing the teddy bear of a man off of you just so you could lay your head down on his legs.

The two of you sat on the beach for hours, paddling in the shallows, making sandcastles, and just sitting together watching the horizon as the sky’s hue slowly darkened from an orange into a deep violet as the sun set.

It was the most gorgeous thing you had ever seen, and to experience it with Clark? It felt like heaven. You couldn’t remember a time where you had felt so happy.

Though, after a while, despite the cool summer air and breeze, your tongue began to feel a little dry. You rummaged through your tote bag for any sort of liquids, but unfortunately you had underestimated how thirsty you’d be.

”Hey, Clark, did you bring any spare water?” You inquired, walking up to him as you returned to where he was sitting empty-handed.

“Have we run out already?” He replied, eyebrows raising in surprise as his gaze shot to the bag you had just come from.

You nodded despairingly.

“Darn. Uh… no worries. I’ll go get us some more, okay, sweetheart? I saw a water fountain at the resort across the street.” He stood up, brushing sand from his ankles. “I’ll be back in a second.” He grinned at you and winked shyly before jogging off.

You smiled at him as he went, calling out your thanks, before turning your gaze back onto the sea. It really was beautiful, gallons of water flowing back and forth. Mesmerising, really.

You cocked your head as you contemplated, taking a step closer. You and Clark had paddled together for a bit earlier, but you realised that you hadn’t actually gone swimming, because Clark had wanted to play frisbee before you got the chance to ask. It would be time to head home fairly soon, but you decided you couldn’t leave without going for a quick dip. Clark could join you once he got back — maybe you two could play mermaids.

The water curled around your ankles gently as you slowly walked in. Then it rose to your thighs, and then in no time it was ebbing around your chest. You smiled and began to doggy paddle along the coast, making sure to keep your things in sight so Clark wouldn’t lose you and get himself worked up.

It was calming, just to float in the sea. The water was, as you’d already acknowledged, just about crystal clear — so you had no worries about seaweed or jellyfish appearing in the middle of your path, which was your main concern when you had swum in the sea previously.

You exhaled quietly, just allowing your body to go limp. God, it was so calm.

But then a current hit you like a truck, and a scene out of a horror film played out before your eyes.

You had never been so shocked — one moment you were floating in still, shallow water, and the next what seemed like a small wave had thrust you backwards and under the surface, dragging you out into the open ocean with the strength of a bulldozer.

A scream tried to escape your mouth, but it was cut off as another wave barrelled into you and forced you down, sending you into a hysterical choke underwater. It was so dark. You didn’t know which way was up, and even if you did, you had been caught so off-guard that you wouldn’t have had the breath or the strength to pull yourself back up to it.

Waves after waves sent you spinning under the surface. Your chest tightened, agonisingly painful, and you came to a morbid conclusion less than a minute into the chaos.

You were going to drown.

All alone, tossed into the sea like a ragdoll. This was it. The end.

Would it hurt? You dreaded every passing moment, as the pain in your lungs increased by tenfold, begging you to supply it with oxygen. But the moment you’d do that, it would be over. You couldn’t. You couldn’t…

You had to. Oh, god, you had to.

And it hurt.

And you were writhing, and screaming, you were being tortured, flayed—

And then you were in the air.

Harsh sobs, part exhausted and part unbelievably relieved, escaped you the moment you felt those familiar strong arms wrap around your midsection like steel, hauling you upwards and finally out of those god-damned, treacherous, unforgiving waves. You curled into Clark’s chest like a baby, choking and whimpering, and were so shaken up that you hadn’t even realised he was flying until he gently set you down on the beach. 

“Sweetheart? Oh god. Oh, dear god. Hey, breathe, please breathe. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Gosh, I’ve got you. Hey. Hey.”

What felt like gallons of seawater were forced back up your throat as firm hands give your chest hard pushes, causing you to curl up and roll onto your side, eyes squeezed shut and face contorted in pain. You hacked and choked continually, until the pressure began to subside, and you were left trembling and shivering uncontrollably.

”Clark…” you whispered, voice painfully hoarse. “Clark…” God, you thought you were never going to see him again. But it was okay. He was here. He was here. He saved you. He always saved you.

”Right here, baby. Oh, god. Sweetie…” you had never heard him like this. Almost close to tears, brushing hair out of your face and tracing your jawline with a feather-light touch. “You can’t— you can’t do that. There are currents, strong currents, I mean, you just saw— on this beach— did you not see the warnings as we arrived? Why did you think I didn’t suggest going swimming with you? What if— what if I hadn’t heard you yelling before you got pulled out?” The words came out in a jumbled mess as he stared at you with wide, pleading blue eyes. His dark curls were plastered to his forehead, and he had ripped his shorts quite badly — you only noticed because he was kneeling next to you.

Then the matter of his rescue came to the forefront of your mind, and you ignored his weak rambles as you spluttered, “You— you flew! Did someone see? Why— why did you—“

”Did you think I was about to let you drown?”

It was the closest you had ever seen Clark to anger when speaking to you, and you froze at the rage burning in his eyes. But when he saw your reaction, and felt how your trembling got even worse, it immediately. “I’m— sorry. I’m so sorry, baby, I just…” his voice cracked. “You scared me. Gosh, you scared me so bad. Even when there have been supervillains around, I’ve never felt like this. It was just so sudden. I had just gotten the water bottles and then I heard you and I’d never ran so fast in my life…” You could’ve sworn he sniffed quietly, but he turned his head away before you could see.

”…I’m sorry, too. I was stupid. I should’ve paid attention to the signs,” you whispered. “I just saw the sea and I thought…”

”I know. I know.” He pulled you against him gently, taking care to not put too much pressure on your chest. You could feel his thick fingers carding over your hair, moving down to your arms, just reassuring himself that you were really with him. That you were fine now.

A silence stretched out between the two of you, quiet and poignant.

“Clark?”

”Yeah, honey?”

“I think I’m ready to go back to Metropolis now,” you whispered, with a weak smile.

He echoed the sentiment, though his grin was watery and he gripped you just slightly tighter as he replied, “Yeah. Me too. Gosh. I’d take supervillains over that any day.”

[callsignpxnguin]

Heyy!! I don't know if requests are open, but yesterday I saw a video of a girl wearing a t-shirt saying 'boyfriend's meal' and I REALLY want to know how Simon would react seeing you sleeping with it, or walking around the house with that damn t-shirt on ^^

Tag me if you do it pleaseeee!

Requests are defo open, your wish it my command! <3 (so sorry this took ages ARGH I haven’t been writing but i should be back now)

The door creaked quietly as it opened, pale morning light glimmering through the crack but quickly being blotted out by the huge figure that entered.

It was early — far too early for you to even think of being awake, and Simon knew that. But that wasn’t going to stop him from surprising his favourite girl with his early return home from deployment. He knew you wouldn’t mind, especially when he presented you with the snacks he had picked up on his way home.

He made his way into the apartment slowly, taking care to leave all of his gear nearly in the utility room because he knew you hated it when he left it strewn around the room. Usually he would’ve been dripping in sweat and grime, but on this occasion he had managed to pop in to use a gym shower. Meant he could see you even faster, and your nose wouldn’t wrinkle when he pulled you into his chest — albeit lovingly.

Once he was all settled, his gaze fell to your bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. From inside, he could hear you breathing softly. It made the corner of his lips twitch upwards unconsciously.

He entered quietly, gazing at your form curled up on the double bed. God, he was missed you. Immediately, he made a beeping for your side, sliding in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Mm…” you sighed softly, half-asleep. “What… Simon?” You blinked blearily and craned your head to look at him. As soon as you saw him staring back at you, tiny smile on his face, you broke out into a tired beam. “You’re back!”

“Wanted t’surprise you,” he murmured, large handing roaming your stomach absently.

You flicked on a dim nightlight to see him better, before curling up into his side happily. “Good surprise. I missed you. How did the op go?”

“Op went fine. Missed you too, sweetheart.”

For a man of few words, the sentiment made you smile even more.

He sighed quietly, before his gaze dipped and eyes fell onto your t-shirt, which was currently half-obscured by pillows — but obviously had some sort of lettering printed on the front. It made him curious — he had never seen it before. And he had your closet memorised by now.

“What’s that say, huh?” He asked quietly, voice gruff as he took the collar of your thin t-shirt between his meaty fingers in interest and tugged it upwards.

“Don’t manhandle me, I’m not awake yet,” you mewled earnestly, swatting at him half-heartedly, but at his notice you couldn’t help but grin slightly. You didn’t know he’d be seeing it so soon. “I bought it the other day. Wanted to surprise you with it, but now you can see it sooner. You like it?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he read the print slowly, once you had rolled over onto your back and the thin fabric was pulled tantalisingly over your torso. “Boyfriend’s… meal.” He blinked at you, and for a couple moments, his face was completely blank.

“…You like it?” You asked again, now a little nervous.

His index finger traced the letters slowly. “…I like it.” His voice was almost a growl, and the sudden dip in his tenor made you shiver. “You bought this for me?” You giggled. “Of course. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?”

”Damn right I am, sunshine.” Suddenly, his breath was hot on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. “And you’re my meal, then, yeah?”

“Can’t argue with the t-shirt.”

”Good, because I don’t want to.” His breath was quickly replaced by his teeth — nipping gently at first, but his bites got harder the further he got down the slope of your neck, moving onto your collarbone and then your shoulders. “Tastes bloody good.” His tongue darted out occasionally, warm and soft, running over the marks he was leaving almost proudly.

And he didn’t stop. Not for a long while.

‘Boyfriend’s meal’, that you were.

[callsignpxnguin]

We Were Ghosts Before We Died — Masterlist

a dark Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader fanfiction click here for the ao3 version

SUMMARY

In which Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley learns to live a life outside the military after an unfortunate accident.

Or… doesn’t.

But that’s where the waitress from the diner down the road comes in, full of sweet smiles and mundane, pleasant conversation. In other words, you

CW

18+, suicidal thoughts, drugs, depression, graphic imagery, eventual smut

CHAPTERS

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

[callsignpxnguin]

Johnny MacTavish who hates when you play with his guns.

It only happened once — he had been out with the team for a well-deserved dinner, and you got bored whilst he was gone. Sure, that was normal, and of course he didn’t mind you finding ways to amuse yourself as long as you reserved the most fun activities to enjoy with him.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the reaction he had when he came home, and found you holding and inspecting his personal pistol with interest.

“I’m home!” His slightly tipsy, rough voice rang out, as he stepped into the living room with outstretched arms. “How’s my wee sweetheart…” His words died, throat constricting as his piercing blue gaze locked on the weapon you were holding.

You, not yet having noticed his terror, beamed widely and placed the gun down beside you — the muzzle pointing towards your leg, with the safety off. “Welcome back, Johnny.” Expecting a hug or a kiss, you sat there happily.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to jump forwards as if possessed, and snatch the firearm from you as if it were about to explode. “Don’t fuckin’ touch that!”

You flinched back in alarm, the pistol clattering to the ground as Johnny fumbled and lost his grip on the handle. Fingers pulling dangerously near the trigger, and then — the bang that rang out had your vision spinning.

Immediately after, the room was silent.

Your heart beat in your throat like a drum, and your limbs trembled uncontrollably. In front of you, Johnny was in a similar state, the shock of the events that had just unfolded hitting both of you like a truck.

Your eyes shot from the gun on the ground to the plaster wall, where a tiny bullet hole now resided.

“What the hell?” You whispered.

Johnny didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, calmly — too calmly — he picked the gun back up and switched the safety back on. Without speaking to you, he left the living room. When he returned, he was empty handed.

Then he exploded.

“Why on earth were you holdin’ that bloody thing? Are you fuckin’ serious? You could’ve shot something! You could’ve shot yourself!”

“I— I just wanted to see it,” you whispered. “I just assumed— you don’t mind me looking at all your other stuff.” Y

“Sorry for assuming you had the brains to realise that my other stuff can’t blow your brains out!” He was yelling now, voice wavering with emotion. “I— I just—“ He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times before exhaling slowly. As he did, all the tension drained from his tense shoulders, leaving him slumped. Empty.

Scared. In that split-second, he had been so, so scared.

“Don’t do that ever again. Please, bon. You can’t— you can’t do that to me.” His voice broke halfway through the whisper, tears welling in his eyes.

You had never seen him like this before. It wasn’t like him — didn’t suit his happy-go-lucky, playful demeanour. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to take him seriously.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, staring up at him with glassy eyes of your own. “I didn’t think.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I lashed out. But ye terrified me. Terrified me. I hate having to watch you get mixed up with the stuff I do out there. I don’t tell you this enough, but I worry about you. Loads. I just want you safe. That’s all I want.” He took a staggering step forwards before falling next to you on the couch and pulling you into his chest impossibly tight.

You nodded, throat tight. You allowed him to tug you into a hug, and felt comforted by his smell and warmth.

“Sorry for lashing out,” he repeated. It was like every time he rewound the scene in his head, he felt like he needed to apologise again.

“Sorry for being stupid,” you laughed tearily, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Aye, can’t argue with that.” He pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, before promptly falling asleep.

[callsignpxnguin]

is it possible for a wild west drabble where reader is a barmaid and price wants her to be his little wife??? totally ok if not!! -🦄

as an avid RDR fan, i gladly accept, though it went a little off-topic than where i initially imagined it so sorry 😭 <3 TW: slight dubcon!

When he first walked into the bar, you didn’t notice him.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t eye-catching — because he was clearly the opposite — it was just that a fight had broken out only moments earlier, and you were trying desperately to break it apart. So, naturally, you weren’t focusing on who was entering just then.

And so John Price sat himself in the corner silently, unnoticed and watching. Eyes fixated on you, not that you were aware. His mind was turning slowly.

The bar was filled with raucous yells and shouts, some egging the brawl on and some clamouring for it to end. Unfortunately, that meant that you couldn’t stop it without risking getting punched in the face, and so you had been reduced to desperately pulling on their clothes when you could.

As you could imagine, it wasn’t very effective. And no-one was doing anything to help you.

A sharp blow landed on your stomach and you stumbled backwards with a pained groan. Tears fought to bloom in your eyes, but you bit them back, because what kind of outlaw respected a barmaid who sobbed at a measly fistfight?

“Stop it! Both of you! Please!” You rasped, ducking behind a barstool in an attempt to cover yourself. One of the men ignored you — the other sneered, and spat at you.

It was at this point that John decided that he had had enough.

Boom.

Almost akin to a thunderclap, the sound of a single bullet rang out suddenly, effectively freezing everyone in place. All yells faltered, and an eerie silence quickly engulfed the room.

Your head snapped to the perpetrator, who had stepped onto a table, pistol aimed at the ceiling (which now sported a tiny hole) in hand.

“You heard the lady,” John drawled. “Either stop fighting like children, or take it outside. Otherwise the next bullet’ll hit a mark, and I’m sure no one likes cleaning bloodstained out of floorboards.”

The men scattered like mice, out of the door before you even managed to process what happened.

And then the rest of the bar went back to normal conversations, albeit some shooting the stranger some nervous looks beforehand.

It was laughable, you thought, just how easily this stranger managed to calm the chaos. Nonetheless, you owed him deeply, and were ready to offer as many thanks as you could when you noticed him approaching you.

“I— thank you so much, mister,” you stuttered, eyes averted to the ground. “I’m sorry you had to step in, but I’m really grateful that you did— please, have any drink you want, on me.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart. Don’t need a free drink. I did what anyone could’ve done.”

You blinked, glancing up and meeting his gaze. Big mistake. His blue eyes twinkled with a charm that had you flushing from the neck up, and there was something about the shape of his jaw that made you want to swoon. “But— but they didn’t. Please, really, I do insist…”

“…If it makes you happy for me to have one, I wouldn’t mind a beer, darlin’.” He winked just slightly, so quick that you almost didn’t catch it. You nodded hurriedly and immediately brought him a glass, full to the brim. The stranger took a long sip, and you watched his throat bob before he set the glass back down. “Delicious. Name’s John, by the way.” John offered his hand out to you, and you took it, his callouses rough on your palm. “What’s your name, love? And what were those bastards fightin’ about?” His questions were slow, easy, casual — but your heart was beating so loudly in your chest that his tone only stressed you out more.

You told him your name nervously, before adding, “One of them won at poker. The other one got angry.”

The man — John — barked a laugh. “All that over gambling? They deserved to get shot.”

His eyes raked down your body — from the tight apron you were wearing to your neckline, where a thin strip of your cleavage was open. He wasn’t subtle about it; in fact, he was almost performative in the way he admired you, and that only served to heat your cheeks further.

“You got a husband that runs this place with you?” He asked suddenly, eyes flicking back up to your face.

Words seemed to stick in your throat. “No, mister. Just me. Inherited it from my parents.”

“Good.”

Good? What was that supposed to mean? You smiled nervously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You want one?”

“E-excuse me?” What was he saying?

“You heard me. Must be tough, a pretty bird like you managing a place like this all by yourself. I’d gladly help you… if you wanted me to.” Even though he phrased it like you had a choice, something told you that it wasn’t something you could say no to.

“I— I—“ You were certain you were going to explode — though whether it would be from embarrassment or from how turned on you were, you weren’t sure. “A-are you sure, mister? I mean—“

Suddenly, a hand was behind your neck and you were being pulled forward into a kiss.

The taste of beer was subtle on his tongue, but what hit you first was the smell of cigars that enveloped him. You would’ve imagined such a smell to be too pungent, too dirty, but right now? It smelled heavenly. You kissed him back greedily, years of loneliness seeping into desperation as the had he had on your neck tightened its grip.

“You could be such a pretty little wife for me… you want that, yeah?” He murmured as he pulled back for a moment, breath hot on your face and sending shivers goosebumps flaring across your flesh.

“Y-yeah,” you whispered, trembling, before kissing him again. Honestly, you did want it. It was hard work running the bar, and finding a good man was even harder. Maybe John wasn’t good, but he was certainly strong and dependable. It helped that he was also incredible with his words.

You squeezed your thighs together as he pulled you up onto the countertop, before he rasped, “You got any rooms upstairs?”

[callsignpxnguin]

We Were Ghosts Before We Died

A dark Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader fanfiction Click here for the AO3 version TW: suicidal idealisation, gruesome physical deformities, depression, pills

3 // previous — next

MASTERLIST

Your eyes were sunken, nose raw and red, and your skin was noticeably clammy. Your arms trembled slightly with the strain of the overstuffed shopping bags you carried, exaggerated by the fright the man before you had given you, and overall, you looked—

Very, very sick.

Simon froze, just as you let out a short and quiet scream. Shadows had bathed his face in darkness, which meant that when you flung yourself around at the sudden noise that rang out behind you, you had found a huge man looming over you, arm held out hesitantly — and in that moment, you were convinced you were about to die. By a stabbing, or anything otherwise. Kidnapping, shooting, pure brutality… none of it was too far-fetched for this area of town. Especially when you owed what you did.

But as the huge man flinched at your shrill yell, he jerked back into the yellowing light that the singular working bulb of the hallway offered, and it was immediately obvious to you who he was. You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or surprised out of your skin at the revelation.

Throat bone-dry and aching, you croaked, “Ghost? What the hell?”

Simon stared at you wordlessly, and for once he seemed speechless — this time, not out of intention. He wasn’t sure what exactly caused it — maybe how utterly feverish and sick you looked, maybe the shock of seeing you in his flat complex, maybe the fact that for the first time in his life you weren’t smiling at him — but he was rooted to the ground and his mouth didn’t move a muscle.

It took a lot of effort for him to respond to you. “You… live here too?” He finally managed after about a minute; hazel eyes fixated on your face, and the emotions they reflected unreadable.

You stared back at him in utter disbelief, heart still hammering in your chest like a drumbeat as you tried to find an appropriate response. The ‘too’ threw you off, though. What was going on? Were you losing your mind? “Well, no shit?” Your words dripped with incredulity and weariness.

Simon continued to stare at you. The situation was so… odd. Also, he had never seen you like this. Out of your comfort zone, dressed in old clothes and hair messy. You seemed bare. Was that the right word? He wasn’t sure what to think of any of it. From the looks of it, (your expression spoke volumes), neither did you. “Oh.” He cleared his throat, eyebrows furrowing, pulling his pale scars inwards. “You weren’t working today. That idiot said you were sick.” He paused again. “He clearly wasn’t wrong. You look sick as a dog.” Simon couldn’t stop the blunt words from spilling out. A meek attempt at explanation, that didn’t really explain much to you.

Although you figured that was the most words he’d ever strung together for you, you couldn’t fully appreciate the moment for the resounding panic and overwhelming nausea that kept swirling your stomach around. “Tommy?” It wasn’t that hard to figure out who he was referring to, given the bitterness with which he mentioned the man. “Yeah, he was covering for me this morning, because… well, you already figured that one out,” you responded weakly, one hand finding your chest as you finally allowed yourself to exhale. “…Are you always that quiet?”

Simon nodded. Dead serious.

“…Good to know.” You sniffed again, wiping your raw nose with the back of your hand weakly.

An awkward silence stretched out between the two of you thickly. What were you supposed to say? Was there any point in inviting him in?

The idea made you frown. If you had been at full health, you probably would have invited him in no problem, with a cheery grin and some quip about how quiet he must be all the time if you’d never even realised that he’d been living next door. However, as it were, you were shivering and achy and hadn’t yet offered him even a single smile.

Which meant the innocence in inviting him inside would be a bit less convincing, would take a lot more energy for you to do in the first place, and besides, he probably wouldn’t want to be around you like this anyway -- but when you took his looming form in again and your mind pounded with another lash of pain…

“…Would you like to come in?” You croaked. “I can make you the pancakes you missed out on this morning. And it’d be nice to have some company.” It was the truth. The thought that he’d accept was a stretch, but maybe he’d even tolerate you a bit more, regarding your… general wobbly composure.

It was equally possible that he’d be disgusted by your sickness or scorn you for missing a day of work when he’d surely been through much worse without much of a complaint, but there wasn’t much harm in asking when you could have barely comprehended his answer anyway. You were steadily getting dizzier.

“Don’t want pancakes. Can I make tea?”

You blinked at him, convinced you had misheard the question, as you turned to open the door. “I’m sorry?”

“Can I make tea?” He rumbled again, dead serious. “Might help with the congestion.”

Your mind flashed to the box of green tea bags that you had bought from the supermarket. The cheapest brand possible, but you couldn’t make green tea taste bad even on purpose. “I mean… sure. You’re in luck, I bought some more packets this morning.”

He only nodded again, and whilst you weren’t entirely sure whether that meant he had accepted coming in or not, as your hand found your doorknob after collecting some mail on your porch and pushed it open, he waited for you to unlock it before following you inside wordlessly. So, that was that.

Once he was inside, you closed the door. He noticed that you held the small letter that had picked up from the doorstep before entering, and upon briefly skimming it your eyes darkened and you quickly threw it in the bin. “Stupid scams,” you rasped, quickly walking further into the room, but your arms trembled just a bit more. He noticed that, too.

But Simon’s outward reaction was just to grunt in agreement, gaze roaming around the inside of your flat, the movement instinctual from all the times he had infiltrated enemy bases. 

It was… empty. Almost as empty as his, which surprised him, because it just didn’t seem like your character. At least, it didn’t seem like the character he had grown to know at the diner.     

You sneezed quietly and moved to put your groceries away as he assessed it all. White walls, grey ceiling, worn wooden floorboards – a tiny dining table in the corner that seemingly doubled as a desk from the books scattered across it, and a tiny sofa a few feet to the side, facing an old TV. Not too unlike his own, albeit cleaner. More lived in.

Silently, he walked up next to you and began unpacking your bags alongside you.

“You really went out shopping like this?” he asked suddenly, gaze cutting to lock with your own.

You blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness from your eyes. It took a long time for you to process things with the sluggish way your mind was moving. “It’s the only time I ever really get to do some proper shopping,” you mumbled after a moment. “I’m sure you know how much time it takes to get up to the city, and I need my shifts.”

Simon grunted; eyes locked on the task in front of him. “And m’sure you know how dangerous this place is. You can’t let your guard down. Especially when you’re sick.” He abandoned the bag he had been unpacking abruptly and reached out for your rusty kettle. “Tea,” was his only answer to your questioning glance.

“Oh, sure.” You handed him the kettle with a shaking arm. “Careful, it’s old.”

He only nodded mutely and reached for the tap, filling it up to the brim before turning it on. The water hissed and spluttered as it boiled, before quieting to a subtle hum as steam billowed from the top.

Without asking, he opened your cupboards until he found what he was looking for and pulled out your stash of teabags to inspect them. “Green, peppermint, or Earl Grey?”

”Whatever’s closest.”

He grunted and there was a faint rusting as his thick, scarred fingers deftly pulled out two packets of peppermint. “Good for congestion relief,” was his only explanation, before he slid the teabag box back into place and then reached for two cups from the adjourning cupboard.

The first cup he retrieved was pale and adorned with faded flowers. It was the one you always used for tea, and didn’t complain when he placed it in front of him. But the second—

You froze, arm shooting out to halt him in his tracks. “Don’t—! …touch that one.”

His hazel gaze cut to you, and whilst he didn’t pose the question, you could see it shining in his eyes. What could possibly have caused you to feel so deeply for a cracked, shittily hand-painted cup? Its rim was supposed to boast the image of a litter of cats, but they were more akin to black-and-white blobs with oddly large green eyes than anything. Undoubtedly ugly, but even then, just a mug.

And yet, you weren’t willing to divulge. And, thankfully, he didn’t press the matter. He also immediately retracted his hand, instead opting for a plain white mug, much to your relief.

”Sorry. I don’t have people over that much,” you mumbled.

”Okay,” he said simply. Meaty fingers pulled at the packets, and once he had filled each mug with simmering water, he dropped them in and let them stew.

The tea was good. For budget peppermint boxes, you were pleasantly surprised. It did good to clear your nose, too, which you appreciated. Some of the fuzziness in your mind cleared as you sat on the sofa opposite him and sipped the drink absently — watching the teabag bob and ebb gently with the movement.

“What’s your favourite tea?” You asked suddenly, glancing upwards. The silence didn’t really bother you, but the thought popped into your head and out of your mouth before you could stop it.

His reply was almost instantaneous. “Black.” But then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “With honey.”

You nodded contemplatively, finding his answer satisfactory — before your gaze snagged on him, and you cocked your head. He hadn’t had a single sip of his tea. He was just staring at it. You were unsure why for only a heartbeat, because the problem wasn’t too hard to work out. 

His mask.

The flimsy, worn fabric remained firmly planted over the lower portion of his face, and he didn’t seem to want to remove it anytime soon. For a moment you wondered what lay underneath — more scars, most likely, or maybe something even more gnarled — but you quickly shook the thoughts away. It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t any of your business. What was your business — or, at least, what you considered to be your business — was his comfort, and that you could improve.

”Don’t like it?” You asked hesitantly. You didn’t want to confront him, but you knew how you could give him an out without even mentioning it. Before he could reply, you added, “I’ll go get some honey, so you can add a bit if you’d like.” Quickly standing up and turning your back on him to get to the kitchen, you could almost sense the way his shoulders drooped slightly with the loss of tension. A quiet rustling was audible from the moment you turned away.

Now, Simon wasn’t stupid — and years in the military didn’t render his observance skills useless, despite his state over the past few months. He knew that you left for his benefit, under a thin ruse, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate it. Whilst you were gone, he quickly gulped down his tea in long swallows, and the cup was drained within the minute.

You walked back with a small smile, mumbling something about how you had unfortunately ran out of honey, though it was a hard line to walk between genuine concern and patronisation. Then again, Ghost didn’t look up at you as you returned, so it didn’t really matter.

Instead, he glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

You managed to smile slowly. “Trying to leave already?”

He only grunted, gaze falling back down to the worn floorboards.

You sighed quietly. “Just kidding. I agree. You can go home, if you’re finished. I’m not going to say no to some extra beauty sleep, especially if it means I can shake off this bloody cold a bit faster.” Your limbs ached as you stretched languidly, biting back a sneeze that made your eyes water. “I know you aren’t a people person, but… It was nice to have company. So, thank you.” You meant the sentiment. Initially, you had been wary of actually enjoying the time you proposed the two of you would spend together, but he had ended up being fairly pleasant. In his own way, of course.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to let you stay home alone like that,” he muttered. If you hadn’t known better, you could’ve sworn he relaxed even further into your couch, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

“Even so, you made tea. You didn’t have to, and it was good.”

“If someone can’t make good tea, what could they possibly be good for? It’s just hot water and some leaves,” he was quick to retort, accent thick. He pointedly didn’t acknowledge the first bit.

You laughed quietly, letting it slide. You knew he wouldn’t want to be pressed. “Fair enough.” Standing up, you stumbled over to your door and opened it for him slowly. “See you tomorrow?”

“…probably,” was all he mumbled, before bowing his head and stepping out, crossing the corridor to his own apartment wordlessly. Leaving you with only your thoughts and that one mug still untouched in the cupboard, which still made your heart ache just to acknowledge.

*

Your bedroom was quiet.

No sirens rang out from the street, no dogs barked, and no neighbours made a clatter.

You huffed a small laugh. Now you knew why they had never made a clatter throughout the entire time you had lived here.

Because they were him.

With a sigh, you turned over in your bed, the mattress creaking with the movement. It was ironic. He has been there every day for the past week, close enough to touch, and you had known of him for far longer than that — but for some reason you always imagined him as some sort of legend. The mystery and stealth with which he carried himself never allowed you to consider that maybe he was much closer to you than you had assumed he was. That he had a life outside of your diner, however worthless he may view it.

You had to fight back the sudden tears — because it was a long time ago that you had seen the same look in someone else’s eyes, despite you not recognising it then. But seeing the state Ghost was in, that evening in the diner… it irritated the wound more than you wanted to admit. And though you were determined to do your very best to help him, so it wouldn’t happen again, every so often you thought of the first life you cared about, that was taken away so cruelly.

You were a confident person. You had to be — it was how you rebuilt yourself after what had happened, how you managed to move on and salvage the scraps of what the whole ordeal had left you with. But you couldn’t deny that deep-rooted anxiety and internal fear still lingered. 

How couldn’t it?

You supposed that explained your near-obsession with this man. A man who had probably seen some of the darkest horrors this world had to offer, and still managed to get this far. You felt a constant urge to check on him, to put a hand out into the darkness just to make sure he was still there, no matter how weakly.

You had to. It was all you could do.

No matter the state you were in yourself.

He had terrified you, sneaking up behind you that morning — for a moment you had thought someone had finally come to collect what you owed — but you decided the scare was worth it for the discovery that followed. 

Though, the thought of someone coming to collect still sat uncomfortably in the back of your mind. Watching. Waiting. It would never go away until it happened, which it undoubtedly would, because Chucky didn’t forgive — or ever forget. 

Suddenly, an idea occurred.

“Ghost?”

The walls of your apartment were dangerously thin. You had struggled through countless freezing nights because of this, practically convulsing in shivers. And whilst there was a solid chance that your newfound neighbour would hear your call and ignore you completely, somehow you knew that he wouldn’t.

“…What?” Ghost’s voice was rough. More so than usual.

A stupid, happy smile spread across your face subconsciously, your mind going briefly blank with a sudden rush of serotonin — providing indescribable relief from your fast-growing anxiety. The reply was crude, and yet… “Goodnight.”

Silence. The smile faded a little as it stretched on through seconds. You had hoped for at least an unamused grunt. But then…

“…goodnight.”

Falling asleep came a lot easier to you after that. And that nagging voice in your head was appeased, at least for now.

Taglist: @moonfriesbruv @snburntandsad @asweetheart @vampsauce91@kylies-love-letter@banananananachips@terrifiedanimegirl

The taglist, as well as all comments, requests, and fanart are open <3

[callsignpxnguin]

MASTERLIST: captain john price

longform fics

Whiskey and Dreams …in which price meets a lonely girl at the bar (8k+)

oneshots

Knight and… Lover? …in which price teaches his stubborn princess how to duel His Stressed-Out Wife …in which price calms his manic spouse Feared Dead …in which price scares the hell out of you His Sick Wife …in which price takes care of his sick wife Price, Soap, and the Missus …in which the two barrel into a misunderstanding Him and his Too-Perfect Wife …in which he feels you’re way out of his league (request) The Wild West …in which he wants to make a wife out of a barmaid (request)

drabbles and blurbs

Him and his Wife …in which you two get interrupted Snoozing with a Bear …in which you enjoy snuggles with your husband His Friend’s Daughter …in which he desperately avoids temptation (request) Soap’s Older Sister …in which he falls for someone in particular

[callsignpxnguin]

Whiskey and Dreams — Masterlist

a fluffy John Price x fem!reader fanfiction click here for the ao3 version

SUMMARY

You had just about given up as you sat, alone and anxious, in the corner of a bar. That was, until a handsome soldier caught your eye, approached you, and showed genuine interest in your conversation. In you. Which was something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

And so, naturally, the little thing between you and the man called John Price gradually blossomed into something bigger. But life for a military captain is tougher than you had expected, and staying by his side would prove to be only possible for someone determined to be with him for better… and for worse.

CW

social anxiety, eventual smut, drinking, swearing

CHAPTERS

One Two Three