Constellation
Masterlist
Fluff mostly
Pairing: PriceXReaderXNikolai
Summary: Cuddles and make out session.
AN: My periods wrote this.
“It's alright.” Johns fingers graze lightly down your shoulder.
“We are fine. We are here, together. You are safe, little star.” Nik's warm breath tickles the back of your neck.
But you can't stop the tears. A wet spot on Price's pillow grows wider under your cheek. John cups your face and guides you to look up at him. His gaze meets your tired red eyes and he sighs ruefully. John brings you closer in kisses your forehead, glancing at Nikolai.
There are many things in your decade long friendship that could have made others uncomfortable in your place. Others, but not you, John and Nikolai. You wouldn't let anything ruin the most treasured thing you have - this friendship. So forehead kisses are fine, ‘this reminds me of you’ photos of beautiful things are fine, dancing in the kitchen while you three are cooking is fine. Letters, that you receive from them from all over the world, ‘just because’ flowers, surprise hugs from behind - it's all fine. These things won't ever hurt your friendship.
Even falling for both of them slowly and inevitably won't do so. As long as you keep it to yourself. Which is not the easiest thing to hide, when you find out, John came back from a deployment injured.
A friend might have made sure, Price is actually doing fine and just needs a few days of bed rest, and visited him with a care package. A girl, who was desperately in love, came to him as soon as her working day was over and cried ugly, curled up next to him. You started calming down only when Nikolai came, climbed on his friend's bed and scooped you in a tight hug.
And so you three are lying: Nik's arms around your waist, your face in Price's hands. Time to time, one of them half whispers something soft to you. And with each ‘we are fine’, ‘you are safe’, ‘It's going to be alright’ you return to normal little by little.
It's their voices working their magic on you. Husky, low, rich and warm tones. If only these men knew, what can they do to you just with a short whisper. Sure they calm you down now, but they can drive you crazy as well, lead your mind to the places, you're too ashamed to acknowledge.
John wipes away your tears with his wide warm thumbs, Nikolai hums a melody over your ear. You remember it vaguely. Something in Russian. Something about a star, that he begs to shine on no matter what. It's not a lullaby, but always brings you peace and he remembers it.
They distract you: telling you little silly stories about their deployments, arguing, jokingly grumbling at each other. You even start laughing. Then Nikolai brings tea for you and meds for John. Price immediately puts on his most suffering and dissatisfied expression, and you with Nik barely hold back the laughter.
You try a good dozen of ways to convince Price to behave like a grown up and just swallow all his pills finally. Everything from plain flattery to threats is thrown at the grumpy man. And then you resort to bargaining.
“Eat your meds now, and I will kiss you.” You laugh. Nikolai chuckles.
But John looks serious.
He scoops all the remaining meds and throws them into his mouth, topping it up with the remaining water. All not breaking an eye contact with you.
“Done.” After one Price's word, the room falls silent.
It's only then, when your own word sink in. You promised him what once again? Unable to bear his gaze, you hide your eyes, looking down his wide neck, to the concave, the point, where the outlines of his muscular chest begin to show.
This neck is made for grabbing onto it in search for a stabilizing point, while this man is…
Your face is burning. It's hot, suffocating hot in here. Not just because the man, you've been dreaming to kiss, waits for your touch, but also because the other man, you've been dreaming to kiss is burning your back with his gaze.
John doesn't move closer, since the distance between you two is already almost non-existent. He would never force you. But he doesn't move away either.
And your wildest hopes and dreams are screaming, that's because he wants this. But you would rather die than do anything stupid and lose Johns and Nikolai's friendship.
You stretch your arm and touch his cheek, moving to his eye level. It's not that easy, giving the fact, that you have to balance on a pile of soft bed covers between two men, pushing the mattress down to both sides around you just with their weight.
You frantically plan how to turn this all into a joke, when you feel it. Very soft, but absolutely intentional. A push right between your shoulder blades. You lose your balance and fall forward.
The world around you cuts out, when your lips meet. First you feel his warmth engulfing and penetrating you at the same time. Then you hear him breathing you in. You don't move - it is enough for you just lay like this next to him, lips pressed to his as he takes another deep breath in, steadying himself.
You drown in a mix of scents: Johns aftershave, a hint of Niks cologne, cigar smoke and a light musk, almost disappearing, but still daring, seducing. It takes you some time to force yourself to move back. Not far - just a few centimeters, so that when John speaks again - his hot breath rolls down your lips.
“Wait.” John's hands gather your small frame and bring you back.
The second kiss is so much more. There is a lot of holding back, but behind it all you feel a need, a borderline desperation in every motion. Every time his lips catch yours in another intoxicating touch - you feel a promise.
A promise of so much more to come, if you just let him closer, if you trust him enough. But when his tongue leaves a short warm wet trail between your lips - you forget even about the promises, his body gives you. John Price doesn't taste like a black tea, smoke and meds - he tastes like the end of you. And such a beverage is better savored in little sips, so it doesn't go out in a second.
You make an incredible effort to stifle the groan that is tearing out. Your breathing is labored, your cheeks are burning with heat. But all that matters right now: John's lips on yours, his hands pulling you closer by your waist... and another hand gently brushing the hair off your shoulder, exposing the back of your neck.
This feeling paralyzes you, like a lightning, rolling down your spine, echoing in every single nerve. Nikolai. The one to turn you into an absolute mess with just one touch. You are afraid to admit, how good his touch feels, when you're kissing John. It simultaneously soothes and provokes you. John touches your lips once again, and you open your mouth wide enough to let his tongue slip deeper.
This time you both can't hold back your quiet moan and his velvety growl. But your mind slowly comes back to the point, where you can draw a connection between kissing one of your best friends and losing both of your best friends.
You pull away. Panting, you manage to muster only one word. For John, for Nikolai, for yourself.
“I'm sorry.”
“What's wrong, little star?” Nik presses his broad chest against your back, and you immediately feel small and helpless.
“We overstepped?” John lets go of your waist, giving you full freedom of movement.
Did he just say ‘we’?
You look him in the eyes, the most beautiful blue eyes, the universe could ever create, and feel so deeply ashamed, it makes you want to die right here and now. You love John, deeply and dearly, but…
“Talk to me, little star.”
There it is. The “but”. It's not Nikolai's fault, you love him as madly as John. There must be something wrong with you, because this kiss, you've been dreaming of for so long, still feels incomplete. And it won't feel complete until you feel Niks lips just as you felt Johns.
“I'm sorry, I should have…” You can't even muster a coherent answer as you feel a heavy lump, coming up your throat and stinging your eyes. You can't even explain to them, how deeply fucked are you.
“No-no-no, what's with the horrified eyes, zvezdochka*?” Nikolai cups your face gently, and you turn fully to him. “No, don't worry. You see, John is already much better. I think, he will take his meds religiously from now on. Don't you, Price?”
“I will.” John's voice is still breathy and gruff.
“I just… Can we forget-”
Nik cuts you off by planting a soft, caring kiss on your forehead. He had this habit of kissing your face innocently for ages, but right now his touch means so much more than ever before.
Forgiveness. Maybe even approval.
He doesn't move away, and you hide in a shadow under his chin.
“Talk to me, little star. What brought you down? What made you cut off such a beautiful kiss?”
You feel Nikolais deep voice reverberating in his chest, you relax under Johns palm, resting on your back. And then you find a courage to speak.
“I didn't want you to feel left out. This must sound disgusting, it's so complicated to tell it in a way, it would sound normal.”
“Mind if I help you?” You feel his lips forming every syllable as he still presses them against your skin.
You nod and feel his smile.
His lips travel down your left cheek, leaving a trail of feather kisses. You didn't even think, that this man can be so tender. You close your eyes, letting him take away all your doubts one by one.
There's only his breath hitching with little chuckles between the kisses, the cradle of his palms, bringing you closer, the comfort of his voice, when his lips hover over yours.
“May I kiss you?”
You're too deep in the embrace of his grace to remember, that it's supposed to be wrong. Another nod, a subtle one, but it's enough. Nikolai doesn't just kiss - he tastes, explores your lips, while the easy caress of his fingers is mapping over the places where you’re tense and knotted. Every touch is intoxicating, it lures you even further until you give in and relax completely. Your hand snakes to the back of his head, fingers drown in his dark hair, and Nikolai purrs into your mouth. He's so attentive to your desires, that he parts his lips right away, when he feels the touch of your tongue.
Go on. Try him. Have him the way you wanted for so long.
As you indulge yourself in this lasting kiss, a wave of heat awakes on the back oh your shoulder and runs in every direction of your body. John was so quiet, so soft, that you didn't even notice him, until he tugged the collar of your shirt down and placed a long kiss against your exposed skin.
But when you realize what is happening, your brain refuses to keep functioning. You're trapped between their warm figures dwarfing your body, but you feel free for the first time around them. You catch John's head blindly in a silent plead to not leave you and to your joy, he only closes the gap between you two. You feel lightheaded as their lips leave wet trails on your face, neck and shoulders.
“A wildly beautiful little star. So gentle, so generous for us.” You practically feel Nikolai's content smile before he nips your skin lightly, drawing a sharp inhale from you.
“I don't want to leave this bed. Ever.” John's husky rumble echoes inside your chest.
Each time you turn your head to either of them and your lips meet yet again - you hear their low hums, growing into nearly moans. They don't mind sharing. Quite the opposite, to be precise: they welcome the idea. But each of them is just so hungry for more of you - their voices give them away.
“You smell bloody delicious, darling.” Price's beard tingles your jaw, as he speaks.
“You taste delicious,” tops up Nikolai.
As if their lips weren't enough to drive you to the edge - their hands become more demanding with every next little squeeze, every brush of fingertips against the exposed skin. You barely control yourself, trying to hold on to both of them. But they make sure, you're being taken care off carried away from the world in their arms.
It feels so good - it's almost too much. You can't even remember yourself, when a long moan escapes you. And they both stop. Still holding you gently, still stroking your hair, they both give time and space to find yourself in this very moment. But instead of that, your mind in being swarmed with a million of questions immediately.
Do they hate you now? Think you're insane? Is this the end of your friendship?
“I need to stop.” You freeze in horror, thinking that they will let go of you right there.
But they don't. They still hold you, just don't try to kiss you again.
“I'm sorry, I-”
“Don't be.” John brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.
“Little star is absolutely right to put this on pause, John. We need to take things slow, if we don't want to fuck any of this up.” Nikolai looks from Price back to you and smiles. “Both me and John been waiting for a long time, zvezdochka. Seems like forever. Just for a single touch. For a single minute spent this close.”
You turn to John with eyes full of disbelief. And he speaks to you.
“A last thing, I would want, is to rush into this, and push, and… bloody lose this.” He runs his fingers down your cheekbone and touches the very corner of your shy smile. “So how about we call this a goodnight kiss? You can stay here, I'll go crash on a couch.”
“Or I can drive you home, if you feel like you need time alone to let things settle in, little one,” adds Nik, pressing you against his chest.
You freeze in uncertainty for a moment. And then a question emerges from the deepest layers of your uncertainty.
“Was it a good kiss?”
Price smiles, bringing his face once again closer to yours.
“The first thing I do tomorrow - I write Nikolai, asking if today wasn't my feverish dream. That's how good it was. Then we will start to figure out, how to ask you for a date. Not a friend date - a real one. I will be eating my meds like a happy idiot, smiling to the memory of you here. And I will count hours to that date, should you say yes. That's how good it was.”
You close your eyes to his lips touching against your cheeks.
Later that evening Nik will drive you home and you will ask him, if hes not disappointed by everything, that happened, or not happened.
“Disappointed?” He will chuckle. “I've had the best nights I have had in… cant remember, how long.”
He will keep things sweet and relatively soft on your threshold: just a few lingering, but not too long kisses.
“Give us just a little time, my star, let us believe in our own luck, realise, that you do indeed want the same thing as we two - and we will take you on the best date, you ever had.”
*zvezdochka - little star
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After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.
A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!
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A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.
“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”
You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.
You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.
“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”
The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.
“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.
“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”
“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”
“Where am I?” You ask.
“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”
Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.
“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”
“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”
“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”
“Several.” He nods.
“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”
“It’s your job, love.” He replies.
“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”
“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”
“I was really worr—”
“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”
“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.
“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”
“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”
“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”
“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”
“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”
“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”
“Can he?”
“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”
“Is he that good?” He asks.
“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”
“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”
“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.
The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.
“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”
“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”
“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”
“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”
“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”
“Even then.” You confirm.
“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”
“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”
“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”
“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”
“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”
“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”
“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”
“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.
“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.
“What did he lie about?”
“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”
“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”
“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.
“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”
“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”
“How is she?” You ask.
“Perfect.” He states.
“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”
“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.
“Do you love her?” You ask.
“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”
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