#you got two killers for the price of one !

[wildechildwrites]

Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

Pink Mugs and Painful Expressions Part Two

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut and the softest Captain Price

No use of Y/N

Summary: You invite John over for dinner and he wants to return the favor

Can be read as a stand alone :)

A/N: I swear this was going to be a slow burn but we all deserve to have Johnathan Price hopelessly head over heels romcom love at first sight in love with us honestly.

AO3 Link: Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

You had invited Price over for dinner, and he was raised better than to arrive empty handed. He came bearing flowers and a bottle of sweet wine, and the smile you graced him with when you opened the door could've put a perfect summer day to shame with the way it warmed him, inside and out. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he returns the hug as best he can with his hands full.

"Thanks for coming over," you say. You're nervous, verging on giddy, your flat much neater than he'd seen it last. Something delicious smelling is simmering on the stove, and there are candles on the kitchen table. 

John sits while you whirl around him, a tornado of productivity, haphazardly plating food and spilling sauce. He thinks you’re lovely like this, nose scrunched and brow furrowed in concentration, like the salad you’re tossing is a bomb you’re trying to disarm. When you finally sit down, he pours you a glass of wine, and you laugh, settling into yourself.

“I’m always paranoid that I'm going to burn something or use sugar instead of salt when I cook for others,” you say. John quirks an eyebrow, putting a forkful of food in his mouth with an exaggerated amount of cautiousness as you giggle, rolling your eyes at him. The food is delicious, and John proves it by eating two servings. 

He starts the dishes without you asking, dodging your attempts to fuss him out of the kitchen. A dishrag thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up showing off sturdy forearms, two hands on his hips as he tells— orders you, really, to get out of the kitchen. You refuse, lingering just out of reach. Warm light bathes you both in a sunset glow. You tell him about your day and ask about his, and when the dishes are done and dry, order restored to your kitchen, you lead him to the couch. 

You put on a movie, something John's seen before but can't quite remember, an old classic that reveals your nostalgic side. He wraps a strong arm around you, an action more confident than he feels. He wonders if you can feel his heartbeat pick up when you lean in, warm head against his chest. You smell wonderful, soft and warm. 

Halfway through the movie you’re dozing off, head nodding as you curl deeper into his side. John reaches for the remote and turns the movie down, gently pulling you into his lap so he can lay down with you. Your weight on his chest is comforting, and soon he feels himself following you into unconsciousness.

It’s dark and his back hurts. You’ve shifted, your legs wrapped around his, your head on his chest, and John makes a mental note to never tell you that you drool. He sits up, trying not to jostle you, but you open up your eyes, looking up at him sleepily. 

“What time s’it?” you murmur. John checks his watch. 

“Just past two, love.” He lifts you off his lap, watching you yawn. “I’m goin’ home, you get yourself to bed.”

He stands, and you let him help you to your feet. 

“Do you wanna see me again?” You ask, your voice scratchy from sleep. Your eyes are droopy, staring up at him, fingers still intertwined with his own. John wonders if it’s possible for his chest to get any tighter, and briefly considers the possibility that he’s having a heart attack. 

He swallows the feeling, instead smiling at you softly. “How about I host next week? I can’t promise I cook as well as you do, but I’ll keep it close to edible.”

You smile back then reach up, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips are soft, your mouth warm, and John places a gentle hand on your face, thumb tracing along your jawline. The night is warm, but the dark street is a painfully lonely contrast to the bright interior of your flat. John keeps an eye on your window until he watches the warm yellow light flicker off. 

The night before you're coming over, he gets the call, a mission that needs to be handled by his team immediately. He’s told to report early the next day. It’s late, nearing two in the morning, but his bags are packed and he's got an itch under his skin to see you. John loads up his car and heads to your flat. He can imagine you kicking him out, sending him away, put off by his bizarre behavior and the late hour, but he follows the impulse, letting muscle memory pull him back into your orbit. He knocks firmly on your door, hiding his nerves. 

You open the door, your eyes hazy, your hair messy, and John wishes he could take this moment and frame it. Instead he captures it in his fluttering heart, locks it away. 

"I know it's late," he says quickly, "but I've just been called out for a mission and I wanted to— I had to say goodbye. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

You say nothing, still half asleep, just yawn and open your arms invitingly. He sweeps you into a tight hug, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. John lifts you off the ground and spins you around, shutting the door.

You let out a happy noise, high in your throat, and mumble against his chest. “You should leave more often if I get hugs like these.” 

He laughs, and you giggle with him as he pulls you in tighter, crushing you against him. He wants you to feel his heartbeat, wants to feel yours, to know that you’re real, that there’s blood and bones and you’re not just some lovely dream. 

John pulls back and kisses you, harder than the times before, wanting to taste you, to have something to hold onto when he's alone, breathes deep so he can remember the way you smell. You’re minty from your toothpaste, clean from your shower, and he thinks how desperately he wants to be here forever, in your beautiful flat, flowers he bought you sitting on the kitchen table, two sets of dishes in the sink. 

You pull back from him, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen. “Come to bed, John,” you say shyly, and Price is certain that he’s dreaming, that he’ll wake up alone in his cold flat, but your soft hand in his own keeps him tethered, an anchor in his stormy sea. 

You pull him down with you, tossing his hat away haphazardly, your arms snaking around his neck. He’s desperately trying not to crush you under his weight, trying to hide the lightning bolt of want he feels, hovering over you. You're beautiful like this, too tired to be self conscious, staring up at him like you need him just as bad as he needs you. 

“You’re a vision,” he murmurs, just to watch you blush. He kisses along your jaw, nipping at your neck, and you gasp, pulling him closer to you. He feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to touch you everywhere, lets his hands wander, trying to maintain a level head, resisting the urge to pin you down and consume you entirely. He pulls off your shirt, humming lowly when you let him, when you lift your hips so he can pull off your sweatpants. He kisses down your chest, pausing to suck at the soft skin of your breasts before continuing lower. He nips at your hip, using a large hand to hold you down as he sucks a bruise into the stretch of skin next to your hip bones. You squirm and whimper at the sensation. He wants to taste you, wants to feel you cum on his face, so he pulls your legs apart, scraping your sensitive thighs with his facial hair, placing gentle kisses along your legs. He pulls your panties off and you’re suddenly shy again, legs closing slightly. 

“You alright, darling?” he asks, and you nod, looking down at him with wide eyes. John moves his hands to your thighs, spreading you open. He eats you out like it’s something he needs, sloppy and slow, wanting to be able to remember the taste of you. Your hands are in his hair, egging him on, and you moan when he slips one thick finger into you, finding a tempo that makes your thighs shake. He pulls you over the edge, keeps licking until you're squirming away from him, weak hands attempting to push his shoulders back as you stutter out a soft "w-wait w-wait." 

His beard is soaked when he pulls himself up, kissing you and laughing when you scrunch your nose at the moisture. He reaches down to quickly undo his belt, and you lean up to pepper soft kisses across his nose and cheeks as he awkwardly shoves his pants down and off.

 You both let out a breath when the head of his cock bumps against your clit, and he thrusts his hips lightly, dragging himself across your wetness. When he catches against your entrance, he leans down and kisses you passionately. John watches your face as he slowly slides into you, watching you wince at the stretch when he's fully inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust, kissing you softly, tongue moving against yours. He feels you start to squirm, searching for friction, and he thrusts into you.

"Oh sweet girl," he groans, dropping his head into your shoulder. He's fucking you open, soft and slow, noises slipping out of him with ever thrust. John places soft kisses on your shoulders, nipping at your collarbones, making you gasp. You've got your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and for a moment there's nothing but you two, nothing but warm skin against warm skin and the sweet things he whispers, the feeling of you clenching around his cock. John feels himself coming undone and speeds up, making you moan as his hips slam against yours. For just a few moments, he fucks you like he wants to break you, and you feel yourself being pulled over the edge again when he reaches a hand down to rub your clit without losing his punishing rhythm. He calls out your name and you feel his hips stutter, his dick twitching as he cums.

John gets up and gets a towel, cleans you both up. You reach for him, pulling him back into bed and letting him wrap his arms around you. You're still sticky but seem unbothered, exuding contentment as you nuzzle into his chest. He pulls you close, his eyes on the clock near your bed.

When the time comes, John gently shifts you, untangling himself and stepping off the bed quietly. He watches your face as he gets dressed. You look so peaceful, hair a mess and blankets tucked tight around you. Your eyelids flutter softly, and he gently reaches out, placing a hand on your cheek. You nuzzle into him unconsciously, and he feels the iceberg in his chest crack and shift. He picks up his hat from the floor, and quietly lets himself out of your apartment. 

[zeramorphosis]

People will see you trying to get an achievement and delight in denying it and being toxic to you in endgame chat. Over and over and over again.

[oceantornadoo]

ghost comes home

the 141 needs a place to sleep for the night and your house happens to be here. (simon introduces his secret wife to the task force, and it gets steamy after)

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ghost trudged up the hill, already regretting his decision. the 141 needed a place to lay low for the night, and of course they happened to be a mile from your remote summer home. he had a feeling you’d be there too, and here he was bringing four killing machines to your door in the middle of your summer vacation.

they had stopped before the door, and soap was itching with curiosity. it was a cozy lake house, two stories tall and perfect for a small family. there was a car in the driveway and the front porch lights were on, but he didn’t have any clue as to what, or who, awaited them inside. even though ghost had his mask on, soap could still sense how reluctant he looked. “don’t ask questions. come here.” ghost led them around the house to a small shed, wood on the outside but surprisingly modern on the inside. he opened up a military standard weapons storage unit and pointed at it. “every single gun, knife, grenade, weapon. in here.” price had started removing his weaponry but gaz and soap did a double take. “l.t. you’re saying go completely weaponless? what if-“ “if you can’t defend yourself with your bare hands that’s your problem, not mine. if you want to sleep outside, go ahead.” ghost said definitively. gaz and soap complied, and soon the group looked a lot closer to four guys on a camping trip than a ruthless task force. they went to the front of the house again, and ghost pulled out a key. “don’t make noise, don’t touch anything, don’t sit. the lights are going to be off. shoes off at the door.” the anxiety was getting to soap, he had no clue where they were but with how protective ghost seemed, he had a feeling he was going to know a lot more about his l.t. soon.

ghost opened the door, instantly greeted with the after smell of those lavender candles you always lit. it was dark except for the lowlights he had installed last june so that you could see when you came downstairs at midnight for a snack. he saw your books on the breakfast table and your slippers in the living room, the comforting feeling of home covering him like a warm blanket. he took his shoes off and walked quietly to the stairs, knowing every squeak and how to avoid them. a door upstairs opened and he swore underneath his breath, not wanting to wake you until the morning, but of course you’d seen his location and wanted to say hello.

it was midnight, and you had just finished a particularly smutty chapter in your romance book when you got the notification that the door had been opened. you checked simon’s location and of course it was him. you flung of the covers and opened your door, greeted with a silent house except for the sounds of fabric moving. you looked down the stairs and there he was, skull mask shining in the moonlight. you rushed down the stairs and jumped into his arms, reveling in the feeling of home. “hi si.” you said breathlessly, legs tightening around his waist. “hi, dove. did i wake you?” you pulled up his mask for a long kiss, heart beating finally finally. “no, i was reading.” “aye, one of those dirty romance books, hm?” you giggled as he knew you so well. “maybe so. you’ll just have to come upstairs and…” you trailed off, having looked over his shoulder into the living room where three giant men stood awkwardly. you climbed out of his arms (simon huffed), intrigued by the situation at hand. “you brought company?” you turned on the lights to reveal the three strangers.

soap blinked and couldn’t believe his eyes. there was his l.t., a 6’4 killer on the battlefield, with his mask half up his chin, hand around your waist, and love in his eyes. and of course, there was you. you didn’t seem nervous to have three intimidating men in your living room, if anything you looked excited. you seemed molded to ghost, your movement reflecting each other for maximum physical contact at all times. quickly, you pulled down ghost’s mask so the team didn’t have the chance to glimpse his face. you moved forward with a small smile, head cocking as you analyzed the men in front of you. “dove, this is-“ “the 141. i’ve heard a lot about you. didn’t expect to meet you all in my pajamas.”

“you’re much better looking than us anyways.” soap replied, diffusing the tension. he didn’t miss how ghost’s hand tightened on your waist and his eyes narrowed. this was going to be fun.

“well it’s lovely to meet you all, though i’m not sure why it’s right now. i’m -“ “mrs. riley.” ghost cut in. “you will address her as such.” you smacked his chest playfully as he looked down at you, eyes switching from cold protectiveness to endearment. “nonsense. you can call me by my name.” you said, extending your hand to price. “you must be captain price. and you’re wearing your hat!” the greetings continued in a similar fashion as you remarked upon everyone’s unique physical indicators, known from simon’s constant stories about the group. after realizing the military was in fact in your living room, a slight tension curled up your spine. simon noticed immediately, of course, and turned you both around, giving you a sense of relief. “guns in the house?” you whispered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. that was the one requirement you had. “never, love. they’re in the shed.” you relaxed instantly. “okay, they can stay. are you staying?” your thumb laid over his hand, tracing the veins you had memorized thousands of times before. “you’ve got me for one night. transport comes at noon tomorrow. you sure you’re okay with this? we can camp outside. just happened to be near the house and needed a place to sleep.” “of course i’m okay with it, si. i trust you. and now i have you for one night.” you ended with a smirk, knowing your husband would not get a lick of sleep tonight. “we have two guest bedrooms, so you’ll have to share.” you announced, turning back to the group. “i’ll go ready the rooms.” simon whispered into your ear, squeezing your waist once before going upstairs. he didn’t want to leave you alone but he trusted his men, and didn’t want you to work more than you had to. he never did.

“well,” you plopped down in your favorite chair, the men still standing awkwardly. “sit down. we’ve got about five minutes to answer your questions before my husband whisks me away for the night.” soap sat down eagerly, bouncing with energy as he readied all his questions. gaz took in the scene before him, and only had one burning question. “captain, why aren’t you surprised?” price turned to him with a small smile, taking his hat off out of respect. you answered for him. “john and i have talked before, just never in person. there’s a lot of paperwork to do when you want to marry a ghost who’s in a secret task force.” you played with your ring finger unconsciously, and though your ring was off as you had been preparing for sleep, they could all see the tan outline on your fingers. “i’ve known about mrs. riley here for a while, but her existence is the only thing ghost told me.” price added in. he was big on respect, but even he was excited to meet ghost’s secret wife. the one who has extended secret protection whenever he was deployed, the one whose ring he wore next to his dog tags. 

“i think you want to rapid fire interrogate.” you said with a smile, turning to soap. “let’s do it”.

“where’d you meet?”

“manchester.”

“how?”

“i spilled my drink on him in a cafe. might have been on purpose to get him to talk to me.”

“you’re the perfect lass for him. how long have you been together?”

“four together, two married.”

they all exhaled a breath at that. for four years, ghost had been carrying a secret. with his past, or as much as he told them, they knew why, but it was still a blow.

“he loves you guys. he wanted to tell you all, we’d been planning it. just not like this. he kind of hoped someone would notice the ring on his dog tags and bring it up, but i had a feeling you all were a bit scared of him.” you could sense the tension and wanted to show simon’s thinking process to them as much as you could without spilling his secrets. with his past, he had been so worried about you being in danger. it was one of your agreements that he’d tell them in his time, and never before.

“what do you do?”

“i’m an author, hence the books.”

there were books everywhere. the shelves, the tables, the floor. in fact, with the lights on, soap now noticed a small ball of fur cuddled with a book under the coffee table.

“did ghost build this place?”

“basically. it was a fixer-upper. he gave it to me for our honeymoon and he’s been working on it ever since. it’s my getaway when i want to write.” soap spotted ghost coming down the stairs, and wanted to make the last question less personal, just in case.

“how do you deal with the bad jokes?” you opened your mouth to reply, but simon’s hand rested on your shoulder and you closed it. “enough. your rooms are ready.” simon said in a gruff voice, wanting to be alone with his wife already. you knew what that tone meant, and you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. you guided the men to their rooms, gaz and soap splitting one, making sure they had everything they needed. then finally, finally, you went into your room with simon and locked the door.

“hi again.” you said shyly as he gathered you into his arms. “you good? overwhelmed?” he asked, knowing he had intruded on your solitude without warning. “i should be asking you that. are you okay?” you guided him to your bed, sitting him down on the edge. he sighed, and you slowly pulled off his mask, giving him time to stop you. with his face finally revealed, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, moaning at the taste of your husband. “i’ve missed you.” simon finally said, avoiding your last question. “me too.” you kissed his forehead, his hairline, trailing down to his cheeks and chin. reverent. it had been two months, not the longest you’ve gone without him, but still you never got used to the time alone. his hand twitched as he showed the number three with his fingers. a while ago, you had a long conversation about showing your emotions. when either of you were too overwhelmed, you used your hands to show it. one meant needing alone time, two meant panic attack, and three meant being together and moving to a different subject. you gave him a small smile, running your hands through his hair, shorter now that he was deployed. “let me make you feel good.” you whispered, and he nodded, putting his trust in you easily.

you unclipped his gear, slowly, surely. slipping off his vest, guiding his arms. you slid off his gloves one by one. simon loved how you treated him delicately, so different from his life in the military. there were no threats, no enemies to think about, just you and him in this quiet room. he’d soundproofed it last year after the incident with your parents, so there were no worries about disturbing his teammates. with his gear off, you took off his shirt, bringing it over his head and throwing it into the corner. his scars were fully visible, and you kissed each one with pleasure. “let” kiss “me” kiss “make” kiss “you” kiss “feel” kiss “good” kiss. he was slowly coming back to his body, the overwhelmed feeling disappearing with your love and affection. “yeah, love? gonna make me come?” he grinned, pushing the hair out of your face as you lowered yourself to his crotch. 

he helped you take off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxers while you were still fully clothed, the contrast making him hard. you breathed over his hardness, a contrast to the cool ac. he gathered your hair in one fist, giving him a full view of you hungrily looking at his cock. “take it out.” he ordered, and you complied, untucking him from his boxers. “i’m glad you introduced me to everyone today. you did so well.” you said, your words warming his heart. he liked praise, sometimes, and you were trying to make this as good as possible, not knowing when you’d see him next. “had to make sure they knew my wife who sucks my cock so well.” he replied. “you gonna actually suck it, or you just gonna kneel there, looking so pretty on your knees?” you chuckled at his words. slowly, you licked him from base to tip, satisfied with the groan he gave you in return. “spit” you said, offering him your hand. he complied, and you brought it down back to his cock, working your hand up and down. you started with kitten licks, feeling him jerk in your hands at every touch. wetness pooled in your pajama shorts, and you shifted, letting the seam of the fabric work at your aching clit. “stop teasing or i-” he stopped with a moan as you put his entire length in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. you hummed and his cock twitched. you worked your mouth up and down, using your hand when you couldn’t go all the way. seeing him undone was turning you on as you shifted on your knees, letting your shorts work your clit. you swirled your tongue around his tip and went back down, your other hand gripping his balls with a short squeeze. 

he bucked into you, and you knew he was close as he started fucking your face. he reached the back of your mouth and tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t make him stop. your hand left his balls and went down to your clit, pushing your palm against it to find the friction you were chasing. “does getting your face fucked turn you on, dove? my little wife?” you whimpered and he moaned, pulling you closer to his cock. “gonna come on your face, open up.” he withdrew, sticky strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you put your hand back on it and stroked, ropes of cum landing on your face and neck. your tongue darted out to taste him and he groaned, laying down fully on the bed. “that was so good, lovie. you did so well, come ‘ere.” you climbed on top of him, thighs messy with your own wetness. “need you inside me, si. need to come.” you stripped off your shirt and shorts, tits bouncing in his face. he took your nipple in his mouth and you groaned, hands pushing against the headboard to keep yourself upright. simon’s hands came to your hips, sitting you down with his half-hard cock against your ass. “give me a second.” he said in a raspy voice. “okay, old man.” you replied cheekily. he slapped your ass and you giggled. laughter turned to moans as his hand slid down, putting two fingers inside you. “look at you, so greedy for my cock. have you been fucking yourself with the toys i got you?” his other hand tweaked your nipple, a bit of pain in a rush of pleasure. “i have, thinking of you. been missing your cock.” his thumb circled your clit just the way you liked it as his other hand went up from your nipple, choking you. “show me.” he withdrew his fingers and you whimpered as he licked them. you shifted backwards, impaling yourself on him. “si, its too much.” you had forgotten how big he was, and you felt so full, stuffed with his cock. “you can take it, wife.” you both sat there for a minute, letting your leaking cunt adjust to his cock. his hands massaged your nipples, getting you wetter and wetter. “wait, i have a surprise for you.” you leaned over to your bedside table, still full of simon, and pulled out a small box. simon sat up a bit and opened it, smirking as he took in the contents. he withdrew the gold clamps, setting the box aside. his hand grasped your left tit as he sucked it slightly, then withdrew. he opened the clamp and closed it around your hard nipple, an electric shock of pain running through your system. “you like wearing jewelry for me, hm? looking pretty, all stuffed with my cock while the boys are sound asleep next door. wonder if they’re thinking about you, wife.” you gasped, images of being shared with simon’s teammates running through your mind. you had had threesomes with simon before, but never with that many participants. while you were distracted, he closed the clamp around your other nipple. he tugged on the chain connecting them, bringing your mind back to him. “they wouldn’t fuck you like this, though. won’t get you dripping after they fuck your face.” his hips started moving upwards now that you were adjusted to his length, hands resting on your hips. with the feeling of the clamps, his dirty talk, and your stimulated clit, you were right on the edge. “si, i’m gonna come. please let me come.” his hand moved from your hip to your clit. “come for me, dove.” you shattered with a moan, glad for the soundproofed walls. your thighs trembled as you sat back down on his cock, and simon could feel you weakening. 

he flipped you both over, staying inside you, and started fucking into you with abandon. his hand slipped under your head to protect it from hitting the headboard as he got rougher and rougher. your tits bounced, the clamps holding steady with every thrust. your hands came around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “my husband.” you groaned, never tiring of calling him that. your hands scratched his shoulders, urging him into you more and more. he changed the angle so he grinded against your pubic bone, and you could feel your second orgasm coming. “si, come with me. i want you inside.” he moaned into your shoulder, keeping the pace. “right there, love, im right there.” he panted, needing just a bit more. “fill me up, si. i’ll be making breakfast for the boys and they’ll see your cum running down my thighs. i’m yours.” you both came to that image as he pumped into you, making you leak with his cum. “fuck.” he collasped into you, holding off his weight as to not squish you. cock still inside, he removed the clamps, licking each nipple after. “did you think of me when you bought these?” he said, growling. “i got so horny i had to get off in the public bathroom right after. thinking of you the whole time.” you replied. “gonna make you wear these all the time now so your cunt is always ready for me.” he slipped out and you both sighed. 

he left and came back with a warm washcloth, cleaning you both up. you yawned, so tired from the night’s events, glad to have your husband home. simon turned off the lights and tucked you both in, ready to sleep with his love in his arms. “i’m home, dove.” he whispered, kissing your forehead and tangling his feet with yours.

“i’m home.”

[sunonyoreface]

One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

 Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

 According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

 My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

 In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

 One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

 Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

 Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

 Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

 His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

 However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

 He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

 “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

 “Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

 But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

 “What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

 “Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

 “Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

 “Negative.”

 “Are you sure beca-“

 “Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

 Fine. I won’t try to help.

 I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

 When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

 Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

 Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

 He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

 I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

 I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

 When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

 It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

 On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

 “What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

 When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

 I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

 I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

 “Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

 Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

 I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

 At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

 I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

 As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

 The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

 I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

 The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

 Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

 Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

 It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

 Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

 I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

 I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

 “If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

 “Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

 “Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

 “I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

 “That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

 It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

 “I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

 I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

 “C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

 The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

 I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

 “Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

 As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

 Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

 Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

 Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

 I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

 For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

[americaswritings]

Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part II

Warnings: I haven't read the book (yet), Coriolanus thoughts, mentions of poverty, mentions of violence

Summary: Coriolanus thought he would never see you again after you won the Games and he got banished to the districts. But when he does, he is left to question whether or not he can imagine a life with(out) you.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: You all asked for it so here it is: Part 2! Thank you so much for all the love on the first one. It truly blew me away!! I really hope you like this part just as much. I tried to capture Coriolanus inner conflict here. Also there will be a third and final part! :)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Masterlist

He hadn't thought he would ever see you again. Not after the gamemaster had sent for him once the games were over and he had found the evidence against him placed on a table.

Evidence that he had helped you, although the rules forbid it.

He had known. There was no denying that and it was below his dignity to pretend so. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do except stare at that evidence and wonder if it had been worth it.

If you had been worth it. Ruining his life.

As he had watched you crumble under his painfilled screams in the arena he had been sure to have ruined yours, but now he figured it might have been mutual.

It was what happened in the games, was a part of it. Only he had never been one and there was a sick feeling inside of him as he thought of how he had been used, had used you, had used resources to save you despite the knowledge that it crossed a line.

It was easy to watch the games and all the ways they manipulated people. Turned children into killers and brought out the deepest, darkest parts of humans. How they got manipulated in turn, by the gamemakers and the capitol. Even their mentors. And sometimes how they manipulated the public and the capitol in an act of quiet revolution.

It was oddly fascinating in a way, to see through those lies and perceptions and untangle them. Like they were all pieces on a chess board and he just had to watch them push each other around, taking out one by one.

But to find out that he had been a part of it too, that he had been played made him feel like just another pawn.

But you had won. Even if he would pay the price for it now, he had gotten you through the games. It filled him with pride and a little...relief to know that he had kept his promise.

He hated not knowing if you were safe now, but at least he had held his word. If something happened to you now, it wasn't on him.

But then why was there no comfort in that thought?

Why did there seem to be no comfort ever again, with you gone and his life torn to shreds. All his hopes and dreams crushed within one night.

Had it been worth it?

It didn't matter if he had done it for the scholarship or to save you. But then why did he suddenly feel filled with doubts?

All his life there had only been two colours: black and white. There was no grey, because he firmly believed in wright or wrong. He thought it pathetic when people weeped over the games and how tragic they were, yet found the uttermost entertainment in them.

The games served a purpose and they promised him one of his own, a university career, so he served them. It didn’t matter what he thought about it.

But now he seemed captured in between those two opposites. He knew rationally that it had been wrong to manipulate your chances so you could win. And he saw now where it had gotten him.

But wouldn't he do the same again?

Being with you, gazing into your eyes and wishing you were by his side was wrong. You came from two different worlds and the odds were against you. But then how had he turned into this man, thinking about a woman, letting his feelings guide his decisions and cloud his judgement?

And it went beyond the grey.

When you had stepped into his life you had introduced colours to it he had never seen before.

Red, not the university red, but the colours of your lips, the blood driping down your arms.

Blue, not the lifeless district blue, but the dress you had worn when you had sang during your interview and he haid laid in a hospital bed, mesmerized by your every word and sound.

Brown, the colour of dirt and poverty, but seemed to exist in uncountable shades on you.

And now that had all been ripped from him, just because he had played smarter than the other students.

His days as a peacekeeper were as dull and lonely as he had expected. He kept his gaze narrow, his weapon close and he didn't let his mind wander.

Because then he would mourn all he had lost and it would turn to anger. Fury. A turmoil of emotion he didn't know how to handle.

Sometimes he wondered if his life had only existed in polarity before and you had shown him spectra and ranges he had never learned to balance.

And it made him mad. At you. Because how dare you show him what love and lust felt like, how light it made him feel and how there seemed nothing else to exist in his thoughts anymore, only to rip it all away and show him the other side of it. The loss and the grief, the uncertanity and fear. The lacking.

Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad. Here he was damned to a life in the districts, a simple life, despite knowing he had been born for big things. It was in the name. Snow lands on top.

He pretended to be numb and hollow on the outside, but inside of him raged a storm of emotions that broke him bit by bit. Soon there would be not much left of his pride. To his sanity.

He had convinced himself he wasn't thinking about you anymore.

That his dreams of you were just evidence of his growing madness. And that the hopelessness he felt when he persuaded himself you were likely somewhere far away and not thinking of him anymore didn't exist.

But all the lies he had build opon came crashing down when he caught a glance of that blue, that red and brown and he knew. Knew without a doubt.

His hand was locked around your wrist before he could think about the movement and he dragged you away and into a dark alley, his big hand clasped over your mouth to swallow your screams and his body trapping yours against the wall.

His gaze flickered around to make sure no one saw you, then he allowed himself to look at you.

Your eyes were wide open, staring at him in a mixture of shock, fear and disbelief. Carefully he lowered his hand, his hand tangling in your hair. He had always wanted to do that.

But he didn't step away. He needed to make sure this was real, that you were real. “You're here."

You swallowed, eyes flickering over his face and then the uniform. You frowned, then carefully touched his head. "Your hair- it's gone."

"Not completely."

"It's short." You smiled and he felt his lips curve into one as well, all previous anger swallowed by the reality that you were here. That he hadn't lost everything. He had you know.

"Why are you here? Why are you one of them?" He ignored the way your tone changed and you practically spit out the word. "They found out how I helped you. It was against the rules."

He couldn't keep to himself any longer, not after he had fantasised about you for so long and his hand travelled over your neck, your jaw, cupped your cheek.

Finally, you were his.

He would have leaned down and kissed you, but the look in your eyes stopped him. "I thought you were hurt. I- I thought you were dead!"

Tears were shimmering in the soft light that the moon cast over your face and he caught them and wiped them away with his thumb when they spilled over your cheeks.

"It wasn't my voice in the arena. They used the birds to-" "I know that!" You let out a breath. "But everything they said- you said that to me. Word by word."

He waited silently for you to continue. "But then the screams-" "They weren't real", he tried to soothe you, but you shook your head. "But if everything else was, then...", you trailled of, but he knew what you thought anyway.

"They manipulated you. That's why they used my real words against you, to convince you that it was really me, my voice, so that you would believe everything."

"So they didn't-" You looked at him with so much fear that he almost smiled. "They didn't do anything to me. I sat there watching like I did the whole time."

"But then...how they did to it? And how did they listen to us all this time?"

He knew what you were really asking. Had he known? Had he known about it, but never thought it important enough to mention or worse had he intentionally not told you, because of his own motifs?

Shaking his head slightly he let out a sigh. "I don't know", he admittted. "How do they do anyting?"

You looked at him a second longer before nodding, deciding that you would trust him.

His hand ran down your arms now and he noted in satisfaction that you shivered under the touch. He was sure it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where were you? After you won?"

After he had yelled at the game master to let you out. Many times.

"Here and there." You shrugged, but he wanted to know more. Needed to know more.

“That's not enough."

Would it ever be? Now that he was in the district and you were here too. Was that enough?

It wasn't the big house, the uniform and status. It wasn't Tigris smile. And it wasn't power.

It was just you and him, a whole lot of dirt, hunger and sickness. Lacking. Was that a life he could settle for?

Until now this had only been a station in his life. He would get back to the capitol and claim what belonged to him or else he would not see a future for himself.

But now things were different.

"I didn‘t know where to go. I thought after the games my life would be different, but I am still here and everything's the same except that I'm a killer.“

You closed your eyes and an expression of pain crossed your face. He let out a breath as he tried to soothe away the frown. "Don't say that." "But it's true." You looked at him with loathing in your eyes.

"You gave me the tools to kill and I used them. We’re both guilty."

"So? Everyone is. It's what needed to be done." He didn't get your fuss. All that mattered was you and him and you had gotten that.

"I would still make the same choices." "You would?" He nodded. "You matter more than them."

You frowned, heaviness in your eyes. "I don't." "To me you do."

It was true. He didn't know much, didn't understand these new feelings, but this one thing he could promise you was the truth.

Closing your eyes you leaned your foreheads against each other's, finding a glimmer of peace in each others presence. "To me you do too."

It was barely above a whisper, but he opened his eyes to search yours. For a moment you were locked in each other's gazes, but even though it felt like it in this moment, you would never have all the time in the world.

Cupping your cheek a final time Coriolanus closed the distance between you.

Your lips were dry and tasted a little like salt where the tears had touched them, but he savoured the feeling. Your body was trapped between the wall and his and he wanted to explore every part of it, make you completely and utterly his.

The kiss was all shades and ranges of colour he didn‘t know existed and he only knew he wanted more of it. It was addicting, this new feeling that only you seemed to hold the key to.

When you broke apart a sad smile hung on your lips. Before he could ask you about it you cast your eyes down. "They are talking about us. In the capitol. When they used your voice and I...fell for it- they made it into a whole story."

He closed his eyes. He had considered that possibility, yet he hated how he felt the control slipping from him. He had always contained an image and now he felt like other people were deciding it.

"They will forget about it." "They won't. You know it. I can't ever go back."

When he opened his eyes again he saw shock and understanding in yours. "But you...want to go back", you concluded and he didn't deny it. It had always been the scholarship for him, the way up.

He was a Snow, born into greatness. It was his duty to claim what should have been his all along.

You ducked away and took a step to the side, bringing a distance between your bodies he hated.

"This is not my life." You knew that, didn‘t you? Or had you expected him to give up everything for what…love? This feeling of lightness and colour and sweetness?

Even if it gave him a flicker of lust and the power he yearned for, it was not the same.

Because even if your love was strong enough, it would never exist without hunger, worry and a job below his worth. And he was tired, so tired of living like that.

That was why he had taken on the mentorship in the first place. Why he had even gone to such lengths to get the public to pay attention to you and then to save you.

For a different life. A better one. A life in the district was far from it.

Your eyes flickered around as you took in your own district. The one he had spent his last money on just for the possibility to see you again.

And you were standing right in front of him, yet you seemed even farer away now than you had in the arena.

"But it's mine."

Silence settled between you as both of you considered the meaning of your words.

"So all of this...for nothing? You say all these things to me, that you won't let me die and that I'm different and then you break the rules to save me only for what?!"

You shook your head furiously. Desperately. "So you can go back to the capitol and pretend this never happened?!"

He should have felt outrage, but for the first time since he had been sent to the gamemaster and learned his fate he felt numb inside.

"No."

You stared at him in bewilderment, your face a portrayal of the storm of emotion he had felt trapped inside of him for so long. "I would never pretend", he took a stride towards you.

“You changed me. And I think I changed you."

His hands found your face again and to his own surprise you let it happen. "We belong with each other."

You stared at him, a deep sadness in your eyes as you silently shook your head.

"Only not in this world", you whispered, ducking away from his touch and disappearing into the shadows without another word.

He stood there, staring at the spot you had vaished, a part of him leaving with you.

Part 3

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[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[briefalpacashark]

~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

================================================

You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo. 

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply. 

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said. 

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.  

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you. 

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly. 

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again. 

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat. 

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat. 

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you. 

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away. 

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away. 

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked. 

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings. 

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back. 

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides. 

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets. 

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off. 

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth. 

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet. 

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it. 

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone. 

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins. 

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back. 

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch. 

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target. 

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you. 

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up. 

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared. 

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

================================================

=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

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~COD Master List Here~

================================================

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Captain Price is completely oblivious to how attractive he is. Until Nikolai reminds him. For @lookoutrogue .

cw: none.

“He has no feckin’ idea,” Soap groused, slurping another mouthful of lager.

“Not a scooby. Pretty sure she could stick her tongue down his throat and he’d think she was lookin’ for advice on resuscitation technique.” Gaz slumped his chin into his palm and squinted.

“I mean, how’d’ye get tha’… oblivious?”

They had spent the last forty-five minutes since their arrival watching their captain entertain—or rather, be entertained by—a gaggle of young men and women seeking his attention. They were in one of those posh bars in central London where everyone seemed to want to get in everyone else’s knickers and it was nearly nine quid a pint. It was a bit bougie for their tastes, but it was one of the few places with a spare table near to where they needed to be.

“Dunno, but if she touches any further up his thigh she’s gonna end up grabbing a handful,” Gaz murmured, swirling the ice around in his gin and tonic.

“They’re hangin’ off his every word, like,” Soap threw his hand up in exasperation, “he’s talkin’ about sandin’ a feckin’ fence. Sanding. A. Fence. He ripped a lad’s throat open with a crowbar and rescued a foreign attaché of diplomats three days ago, but nope, it’s the Black and Decker that’s more interestin’.”

“That was a classified mission,” Ghost said quietly, cutting in with the low, unobstusive rumble that somehow snapped both Gaz and Soap to look at him. “Not exactly pick up line material.”

“Come off it, L.T. Like ye’ve never spun a yarn tae entertain,” Soap scoffed.

“Never.”

“Actually, I believe him,” Gaz said. “‘Sides, in that mask, it would come off more like a serial killer explainin’ how he’s gonna murder you than hot military hero. No offence, sir.”

“None taken.” Ghost sipped his bourbon and rolled said mask back down his face.

“Ye’ve known ‘im longes’,” Soap looked at Ghost, clearly desperate for answers, “has he always b’en like—“ he fluttered a hand in Price’s direction as the two young women and a fluffy looking twink hanging off his every word broke into raucous laughter at a joke that wasn’t even remotely funny, “—that.”

Ghost shrugged. “To get to where he is, he had to work hard. Gym, range, classroom, paperwork, mental preparation. You don’t graduate top of your class, praised to be the best in your field, by dossin’ around with skirt. Not a lot of time for… fraternising.”

“You have such a way with words, sir,” Gaz said, mildly amused.

Soap smirked wryly. “Aye, I c’n see that. But still, I c’n see why it took Nik a feckin’ decade. I wouldnae be surprised if he had tae be balls deep before—oh, hey, Nik! Over here!”

Soap stood to wave as a familiar looming figure in a brown leather jacket elbowed his way through the crowd, and spread his arms wide. “My brothers, you came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate,” Gaz said with a grin as he stood to receive the offered hug; Soap got a clap on the back of the shoulder and Ghost a shake of the hand. “So, how’d it go?” Gaz asked as he sat back down.

“Well,” Nik patted the right side of his jacket, slightly padded out with an envelope of paperwork, “it is official—I am now a British citizen.” Despite his smile, all three of them could see the sadness in his eyes. The kremlin had seen fit to strip his citizenship. He had said he was surprised it took them so long, but they had finally linked his alias, a face and a name on their records. It was difficult to maintain anonymity in retirement, so acquiring British citizenship had seemed the natural step to take given the last five years. He would always be Russian in body, heart and soul, but all three now belonged partly to someone else…

“Congratulations. We’re lucky to have you,” Ghost said, lifting his glass.

“Da, thank you,” Nik nodded, and then looked at the empty seats either side. “Where is the captain?”

“Holdin’ court,” Soap nodded towards the bar, “Ah’d get over there before he invites 'em over tae see his fish tank 'n loft conversion.”

Nik followed Soap's eye line and raised an eyebrow. He was a laid back man in most things, but when it came to John Price he had precisely zero chill. His back straightened and his shoulders squared, fingers twitching at his sides as he inspected the three people crowding around Price, lingering on the hand that was currently on his knee. “Please excuse me,” he said quietly.

Gaz smirked into his drink. “Get ‘em, mate.”

“Ahh, Nik!” Price beamed as he approached, swivelling on the bar stool to face him. “This is uhm… Jessica, was it? Derek and.. uh, sorry, I forg—Stacy? Stacy. I was just explainin’ how—mmph.”

Nik went straight in for the kiss without preamble. His hips slotted as easily between Price’s legs as their lips did together, his tongue sweeping into Price’s mouth to stake his claim. The hot flush went from the tips of Price’s ears to the v-neck of his t-shirt; he didn’t usually do public displays of affection, but Nik felt it was an equitable sanction. As he pulled away, Nik was happy to note that the three had drifted a little further down the bar, mumbling their excuses. Price didn’t notice; he only had eyes for Nik.

“What was that ‘bout?” Price croaked.

Nik hummed as he took Price’s left hand from his waist and held it up between their faces. “And here is the problem, no?”

“Ahh, Nik, it wasn’—I’m just—“

Nik ignored Price's flustered excuses as he grabbed the chain of his dog tags and pulled them from inside his shirt. The ring rattled softly against the stainless steel as Nik yanked the clasp open and extracted it from its customary place next to his heart. A lesser man might have thought ill of the whole thing, but it had been Nik’s idea; the risk of de-gloving on an op was high, and it would only get lost if shoved in a pocket or at the bottom of a duffel bag.

“It is better this way,” Nik had said softly late one night, “because they will bring it back to me if—“

“N’aw,” Price had replied, “I’ll always bring it back myself, right? Along with my sorry arse, no matter what state it’s in.” It had been an empty promise given Price’s job, but Nik had kissed the comfort from his lips as he’d said those words anyway.

At home, however, it went back on. Price was forgetful. Too much going on behind those pretty blue eyes to think of such a small adjustment. Nik slid the ring back onto Price’s hand and then kissed the back of his knuckles. “Better.”

“I forget, ’m sorry, that wasn’t—“

“I know,” Nik said. “But it will put off the predators.”

“Predators?”

“Johnathan, they were ready to eat you—vodka, on ice,” Nik glanced at the barman only briefly as he gave his order, returning to Price’s eyes as they glittered up at him.

“Eat m—? We were chattin’ about gardenin’.”

“You were discussing gardening, they were not here to discuss.”

Price’s mouth clicked shut. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.”

“Well, thanks for the exfil…”

Nik smirked. “Always.”

“How’d it go?”

Nik reached into his pocket and extracted a dark navy passport, flipping it open so Price could see the identity within—Nikolai Price, M, British Citizen.

“Well, bloody hell, would’ya look at that?” Price took it in both hands, thumb drifting over the photograph affectionately. “You know, I’m surprised you changed to your alias, and didn’t keep—“

“I am not that man anymore,” Nik said. “I am… everything we have built together, and will continue to build. I prefer it this way.”

Price smiled, folding the passport closed to slot it back inside Nik’s jacket. He studied Nik’s face closely, saw the sadness there but also the relief. His home had been taken from him the moment he had turned, but he had slowly, and at times painfully, built himself a new one. With Price. Fuck, they could be on the other side of the world, and Nik would still be ‘home’, because ‘home’ was a man, not a place, and Price had come round to the same line of thinking. It had just taken him a little longer to realise.

“I love you, Kolya,” Price said softly.

Now it was Nik’s turn to flush, his cheeks tinging a soft pink as he processed the open affection he was still growing accustomed to. “And I you, captain.”

“Oi, lovebirds, use that officer’s salary and get a round in, L.T.’s bein’ a tight-fisted bastart!’

Nik chuckled and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “This one is on me, as they say.”

“I’ll take a double scotch then. We’ve got some celebratin’ t’do.”

“Ofiget… da, da, barman!”

[cordeliawhohung]

OMG i just saw your !MafiaGhost on how they met but can you do how !MafiaJohnPrice met with the reader? (if you haven't already and have the time of course. 😊💕.)

mafia!John Price x fem!Reader

John Price has always walked a different path in life than people like you. And yet, despite your status, he learns that the two of you are more alike than he thought. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: vague mentions of death and violence, infidelity, crude language, hurt/comfort, unhealthy relationship dynamics

wc: 4.3k

an: sorry this took me a bit to answer! as you can see i got carried away. also, as we're headed into the new year, i'd just like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who's been supporting my works! i recently hit 1k followers, and i cannot thank you guys enough for your lovely comments <3 i hope you all enjoy :)

“You see that girl right there? You stay away from her. She’s nothing but trouble.” 

Those were the first words John’s father ever said about you. He used one long, crooked finger to point you out in the crowd of other students who mingled about the room with their parents. Everyone had gathered in the school gymnasium for the science fair where all Year 8 students had projects and posters set up on rickety fold tables. Voices echoed endlessly off of the hard floor and walls that it was almost overwhelming.

Really, he didn’t agree with his father about you being trouble. You were plenty kind, and well liked by students and teachers alike due to your kindness and intellect. A proper student, one that everyone else in the school strived to be. There were times where your words bit harder than most would have liked, but John just saw that as you telling things the way they were. He liked that about you. Admired you, even. But then he saw the real reason why his father said those words. 

The man who accompanied you oozed authority and power, both in his stance and the way he walked. People regarded him like he was the King of England himself both in how they spoke to him and stepped around him like he could part a crowd with just a single glance. Most importantly, this man was your father, and he donned a uniform fit for only the chief of police himself. His father never liked police officers very much. They always made things difficult when it came to running the family business. 

It wasn’t until Year 11 that he actually talked to you. Or, more like you talked to him. By some terrible twist of fate, his maths teacher sat the two of you together in the small, double seated desks that laid in perfect lines around the entirety of the room. He learned that you liked to doodle in the corner of your paper during lectures, and had a tendency to tap your pencil against the desk while taking exams. He liked the way your eyebrows knitted together in concentration, and how soft your voice was when whispering answers to the table next to you. 

He didn’t have time to think about you often, not that he should have. John Price was unfortunate enough to come from a family that had a long line of brutal patriarchs that often conditioned equally as cruel heirs. Once he turned sixteen he was forced to go along with his father during his work escapades where he very quickly learned how to clean up bodies without dirtying himself. He often showed up at school with various cuts and bruises, and with heavy bags under his eyes. Balancing the life of a killer and a student was tiring work. 

“Red color corrector will hide the bruise on your eye.” 

It took John a moment to realize you were talking to him, and even then he still didn’t fully believe it until he looked over and saw you staring at him. You were leaned forward over your desk with your hand lazily propping up your head while you waited for him to answer. His pencil halted in its dance across his work as he brought his full attention your way. 

“Color corrector?” he repeated. 

“Yeah, you know. Green hides red marks from acne, orange hides dark circles, red for… very dark circles,” you said, tilting your head at him. “I’ve got some in my bag, if you’d like. Though, you’d have to find your own shade of foundation.” 

Your bluntness and slight humor towards the shiner on his eye had him chuckling, which only made the smile on your face grow into a smirk. 

“You sound like an expert,” he noticed. 

“I am,” you quipped before grinning. Carefully, you reached a hand up to the collar of your uniform and pulled down, exposing the side of your neck and some of your collar bone. There were several, small and faint hickies that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for you pointing them out. “A girl’s gotta have her fun.” 

John liked your humor. And maybe there was something a little comforting knowing that someone like you was getting into trouble, too. Albeit, significantly less violent trouble than him, but that was for the best anyway. Maybe it gave him hope that someone like you and someone like him could actually have something in common. That he could resemble something that was normal.

A few years passed, and John began to drift from you bit by bit. You ended up graduating at the top of the class which earned you several offers from the most prestigious schools across the country, and it was all anyone talked about. Great things awaited you with opportunities to see distant lands, meet new people, and live a good and honest life. 

As for John, his father died when he was twenty-three. Murdered, to be exact, and in a manner eerily similar to the way his mother had been. Cold, calculated, and ruthless, his fathers existence had been snuffed out by a single bullet where his blood stained the pillow that covered his face. 

The torch had been passed down, and its handle was still bloody. 

Over the years he grew rigid and battle hardened in the business of violence. He earned plenty of scars, and built upon his fathers empire until it was twice as big and infinitely more dangerous. It was the only thing his father had ever managed to teach him; how to be dangerous. Everyone who once thought the Price’s were people to fuck with learned very quickly that the new Don had nothing to lose but his own life; one that he didn’t care all too much about. 

The only thing he held close to him was the ghosts of his past, which was why he found himself standing in line at the florist’s shop. Even while running a quick errand, his phone vibrated in his pocket non-stop from merciless amounts of emails flooding his inbox. Mostly updates about certain events within the family that he attempted to lazily check as the woman in front of him spoke sweetly to the shopkeeper. Her voice was so soft, so comforting, so… familiar?

He didn’t realize it was you in front of him until you turned to leave with a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. Even after all those years he could recognize the features of your face like it was second nature. The shopkeeper spoke to him and asked him what she could do to help him, but her words didn’t even register in his mind. His feet moved on their own accord, and your name slipped out of his lips before he could do anything to stop it. 

Once you turned around to face him he found that the air had been knocked completely out of his lungs. It had been years since he had seen you, and you had changed so much; grown into your features, and turned into a beautiful woman that left him speechless. However, you didn’t regard him with the same dreamy gaze; instead, you stood there and stared at him as you awkwardly adjusted the flowers in your arms. 

“Yes?” you asked tensely. 

You didn’t recognize him. Of course, it made sense. He had grown significantly taller, his facial hair was full and thick, and for once he wasn’t sporting a shiner. His clothes were also significantly nicer, as he seemed to have grown fond of business casual as of late. If anything, your confusion was more humorous than anything else because he should have seen it coming. 

“John, John Price,” he said as if he was introducing himself for the first time. 

There was something about the way your eyes lit up at his name that had him feeling warmer than he had in a long while. A precious grin broke out on your lips as you took a step closer to him and laughed in the way someone does when they’ve figured out the answer to a riddle, and it was too contagious for John to not chuckle with you. 

“I didn’t recognize you!” you exclaimed, still giggling. “God, it’s been years! Staying out of trouble, I hope?” 

“Getting in just enough to keep things interesting,” he countered. 

It was like no time had passed at all. You were still that star pupil that you were all those years ago, and he could still hear your pencil tapping on your desk clear as day. It felt unreal. 

“What’s the occasion?” he then asked, gesturing to the flowers you held. 

“Oh,” you said, as if surprised. “Well, it’s, uhm, the anniversary of my dad’s passing.” 

The chief of police? Your father? That man who always held himself so powerfully had been shoved into the cold, unforgiving earth? When he was a kid that man had always seemed indestructible. Then again, so did every other adult when you’re at that age. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hadn’t heard,” he quickly apologized. 

Despite the terrible awkwardness of the conversation, you still smiled. “It’s alright. Was a while ago now, anyway. But, uh, what about you?” you asked, gesturing towards him and his empty arms. 

“Mum’s birthday,” he answered simply. 

His response made you smile something small and bittersweet. “How sweet of you. I bet she’ll love them.” 

“Yes, they’ll make for good decoration.” 

Something settled between the two of you; something that had never been there before. Not while you were children; not when you grew up together. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, and much too suffocating, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to welcome it or not. 

“Well, I ought to get going,” you excused politely. “Got a few more errands to run. But it was really good seeing you again, John.” 

This was the part where he should have said goodbye. Wished you farewell just for you to vanish and most likely never see him again. If he was a smart man, John would have done just that, and instead he found his hand diving into his pocket before he could stop it. He grabbed a pen and stole one of the shop's business cards off of the counter where he quickly scribbled down something in the negative space before holding it out for you to take. 

“Here. I’m certain you get this a lot, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be there,” he assured you. 

To his surprise, you took the card without hesitation where your eyes quickly scanned his rushed handwriting while you thanked him. As you held the card in front of you, something caught John’s attention. There was a metallic glint on your finger, one so bright that it nearly blinded him, and he realized you wore a large, gaudy ring. It was something given to you in poor taste, surely. Something that attempted to steal the spotlight of your beauty rather than compliment it. 

“Did you get married?��� he asked in what he told himself was curiosity. 

You paused for a moment as you glanced at the ring on your finger. With such a large and obnoxious gem on a thin band, he was surprised it hadn’t snapped off. 

“Oh, not yet. Just engaged,” you said in an odd tone. As if you couldn’t stand to look at the ring any longer, you shoved the card into your pocket before smiling at him. “Thank you, again.” 

He tried to forget about you after that. Tried to forget about that ring on your finger and the way your voice changed when you mentioned your engagement. But it was so easy to worry about you; to care about you. Even after all those years you were still just as sweet and well spoken, but he was still John Price. Now the Don of the most lethal mafia in the country, he shouldn’t have been around anyone like you. You were the chief of police’s daughter, the girl who graduated top of his class in school and went to university; trouble. Nothing but trouble. 

So he kept to his own work. Ran his club on the south end of the city, washed the blood out of his shirt, and spent his nights sipping brandy that was too expensive and well crafted for a man like him. But then he thought about the dress that you’d wear, how you would do your hair, what song you’d want to have your first dance to… it was moments like that when he was glad that he had given you his number rather than the other way around. He was even more glad that you hadn’t made an effort to reach out to him. It was better that way.

“You alright, boss?” 

Those three words tore John right out of his thoughts and slammed him right back down to earth. Back to the thundering bass that shook the walls around him in the nightclub, back to real life and the man who sat at the desk in front of him, typing away on the computer. 

“Tired,” John replied simply. 

“You’re always tired,” the man countered. He paused his typing at the computer and ran a hand over his hair, which he had styled into a slightly grown out mohawk. “Even then you never space out this bad.” 

Whatever Soap, his electronics specialist, was trying to get at, John certainly wasn’t in the mood for it. Sighing, he leaned back further in his seat while he stared at the man with a tense expression. “Do you have the intel or not?” 

A small chuckle came from the corner of the office where another man sat, seemingly bored as he typed away on his phone. “Way to piss the man off.”

“Aye, I’ll turn that phone of yours into a fancy brick if you don’t watch your tone, Garrick.” 

The two men chuckled at each other’s teasing just in time for John’s own phone to go off. Not expecting a call, John ripped the device out of his pocket and stared at the unrecognized caller ID with his thumb hovering over the decline button. But he hesitated. It had been months since he had given you his number, and yet a small part of him worried you might have been on the other line. 

When he stood from his chair, it caught the other two men in the room off guard, but they stayed silent as they watched John accept the call and raise the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” he answered. 

All he got in response was a sob. 

By the time John had found you, all of your tears had run dry and a brutal fury filled the empty space. It wasn’t terribly late at night, but it was plenty dark enough that the park you had run off to looked eerie and uninviting in the dim halogen lights. Knees bouncing with anxiety, you sat on a park bench and bit into your bottom lip as you watched John approach from the street. 

For as much effort as he put into looking calm on the outside, it did absolutely nothing to settle the nerves fraying within him. Hearing you cry, hearing you beg for him to come get you scared him more than he cared to admit. Really, he was rather proud of himself for keeping as level headed as he did, even after he saw the tear stains on your cheeks. 

It didn’t take long to coax what happened out of you, in fact, it nearly erupted out of you. That fiance of yours had proved to be less honest than he liked to paint himself as, and as the two of you sat on that park bench in the middle of the night you gave him every excruciating detail. How he had been acting strange for a few months, how he used to show you off and then suddenly wanted to keep you locked away. A part of you knew what was really happening, and yet you told yourself you were crazy until you had walked in on your fiance fucking his mistress in your shared bed. 

“Four fucking years, John,” you said, trying not to grit your teeth too hard that they cracked. “Four years of being with this man just for him to do that? He moved me into his flat, wanted me to quit my job because he said he wanted to take care of me. I have nothing. I don’t have my own place, I hardly have my own money, I was an idiot and gave up everything because he asked me to and I was stupid enough to believe him.” 

By that point in your rant your knees were bouncing so fast your entire body vibrated. Terrified you’d disintegrate in front of him, John reached a careful hand out and brushed it against your shoulder. Though you didn’t say anything about it, or even look at him differently, your muscles seemed to relax some. 

“I could’ve been great,” you continued as your voice began to break. “I was able to go to any school in this country, I got my degree, I could’ve kept at work and been… something. And I didn’t need to. Not really. There was never anything I was trying to prove to anyone. I could’ve had a few kids with that white picket fence and stayed home to care for them.  I would’ve been completely happy living that trophy wife life if it meant I was loved. But I wasn’t. I’m not, and that fucking hurts because I know I’m worth so much more than this.”

More tears fell from your eyes after that, and it didn’t take much prompting from John before you crumbled against his side. When was the last time someone had held you like that? Wrapped their arms around you and held you close? When was the last time someone comforted you and actually meant it and not just in some sort of twisted expectation of devotion? Something in you told you that you should have felt shame for blatantly sobbing on a man in such a public space at an hour like that. Another part of you didn’t really care. 

It took a lot of convincing to get you to stay at his place. Eyes refusing to look at him when you gave him excuse after excuse, it was obvious that you didn’t want to burden him anymore than you already had. So you told him you could stay with your mom, or even get a hotel if that wouldn’t work, but John simply wouldn’t hear it. 

Eventually you were in the living room of his house. An actual house. Not an apartment or flat in the city, but something kind and quaint in the higher end of town. He had a real lawn and backyard that was perfectly manicured, and everything on the inside of the house was much too perfect and clean. It was something straight out of the catalogs you’d see in magazines or on HGTV.

First order of business was a shower, and though it felt strange changing into John’s clothes, you would have done anything to wipe the stench of your cheating fiance off of you. And maybe it was because of the spite that boiled inside of you, but you found that you liked the way John’s clothes smelled significantly more than you ever liked your ex’s. Second was getting you food, and though you had told John you weren’t hungry, the scent of his buffalo chicken was too good to pass up. 

It was near midnight by the time you went to bed, and John had made sure everything was set up for you in the guest room before he meandered back down to the kitchen to clean up. There was still plenty of work that needed to be finished that night back with the boys. He took comfort in knowing that you’d be safe in his house, at least, and well out of reach of that terrible excuse of a man. 

When John finished cleaning things up in the kitchen, it took him a moment to notice the incessant buzzing sound that plagued the room. Like rattling glass, it made his ears quiver just listening to it, and he quickly scavenged the countertops until he found your phone resting on the island in the center of the room. Flashing lights illuminated the screen as your ex’s caller ID and photo popped up. He caught the tail end of the call, and the screen faded back to your lock screen where it claimed to have received 27 missed calls, as well as 84 unread text messages. 

Where the fuck are you?

Answer your fucking phone.

Baby please.

Answer me.

Stop being a fucking bitch.

Goddamn skank.

Come on, honey it means nothing.

Are you seriously making this a big deal?

Come home before I drag you home.

I’m not fucking around.

You’re pissing me off. 

Before leaving the house to head back to the nightclub, John swiped up your phone and hid it in his pocket, along with that god awful ring you didn’t care to wear anymore. 

In the morning you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours with clothes that didn’t fit you, yet you had never felt so comfortable in your entire life. It had been a long while since you last felt like you belonged; since you felt comfortable in your own skin. Still, you couldn’t stay there forever and you forced yourself up off of the mattress as you snuck your way to the living room. You were greeted by several large boxes that sat stacked neatly in the furthest corner of the room, and once again John was in the kitchen making food. He still wore the same clothes he had the night before, and they looked terribly disheveled, yet he still continued on anyway. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted as he looked up from his pan where several eggs sizzled away. “Sleep alright?” 

Still groggy, you approached the island where you lazily leaned against it. “Yeah. Looks like you didn’t get any, though.” 

John chuckled, something tired yet still hearty at the same time. “Perceptive.” 

“Always have been.” 

John quickly finished up the eggs and began to dish out the food onto plates. While you waited, your fingers lazily ran over the counter top where they collided with your phone, and it took everything in you to hold back a sigh. Looking down at it, you pressed the home button where the screen lit up, expecting to see several messages from your ex, and yet there was nothing. You stood there perplexed and wondered if the man had really let you just run away from him, until you noticed something else missing. 

“Have you seen my ring?” you questioned as John slid a plate of food your way. 

“Your ex took it back,” John answered simply. He stood on the other side of the island for a moment before he turned around and started cleaning up the mess of ingredients and dishes that littered the counter. “I also managed to retrieve all your personal items. They’re stacked in the living room when you’re ready to look through them.” 

Mouth open in surprise, you glanced back into the living room and eyed the stack of boxes before looking back at John with a raised eyebrow. “How… how’d you manage all that?” 

Perhaps he should have hesitated before answering. Thought of something to say other than the truth. Instead, John didn’t miss a beat in answering you as he continued cleaning. 

“He sent you a few messages last night and I saw his name pop up on your phone. Didn’t realize you were engaged to the mayor’s son,” he explained. “I have some contacts who were able to get me an audience with him. I figured it would be easier for me to grab your items than you doing it yourself. Save you the trouble, at least. He shouldn’t be bugging you again.” 

For the longest time, you didn’t know what to say. There were a few glaringly obvious holes in his explanation, namely why there weren’t any notifications on your phone. If he had only glanced at it, they would have still been there, and yet they had been cleared. Then there was the fact your ex was too self centered to ever have an audience with anyone he didn’t actively seek out. Perhaps even stranger, you weren’t at all surprised. Maybe you were a little taken aback at everything he had done for you, but not at the methods he used to get it done. Because you had known John’s secret from the very beginning. After all, you had been the chief’s daughter. 

“John,” you said, voice soft and even. 

Drying his hands off on a small towel, he turned around to finally face you where he was surprised to find you smiling. And god, you were stunning, so much so that all he could do was stand there and wait for you to continue. 

“I’m glad I ran into you at the flower shop,” you finished. “Thank you. For everything.” 

It wasn’t what he expected you to say, and still he mimicked your smile, although it was much more tired than yours had been. Life was strange. Nothing had ever gone as planned in John’s life, and yet there was you. Through all the years and the shit and the struggles, you had found your way back into his life, and for some strange reason, he found himself hoping you’d stick around this time, no matter how much trouble you caused. 

“Any time, darling.” 

don't let me in with no intention to keep me jesus christ, don't be kind to me honey, don't feed me, i will come back

[imshymorph]

Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

[bunnys-kisses]

the blue

capt. john price

cw: romance, smut/pwp, oral sex (f & m receiving), pet names & praise (good girl), semi-dom!price, smoking & drinking, authority kink, fingering (f receiving)

The first time you saw Price smoking, you thought your eyes were going to roll back into your head and you were going to collapse. You felt like a fiend watching him lazily exhale as he leaned back into his chair and kick his feet up.

For a man of such high status, he didn't mind getting his expensive wooden desk covered in the mud from his boots. A moment you wondered what it would look like to have your tongue on those boots. But you shut down those thoughts quickly as you placed the paperwork on the other side of the desk.

"For you, Captain." You squeaked in an effort to not sound like your mind was polluted with horrible, horrible thoughts.

He took another inhale and nodded as he exhaled. He coughed a little into his fist before he said, "Thanks, love. I know I can always count on ya." And gave you such a gentle smile.

You wanted him to put that cigar out on your back.

Before you could linger on the thought any longer, you turned on a heel and exited out of his office. In your quick exit, you didn't notice his blue eyes on your behind as you walked.

You did hear his soft chuckle as you closed the door behind you. Your cheeks burned and your cunt ached.

God you needed to get laid.

-

The bar was alive on a Saturday night, every soldier and their gran was packed into the place. You had the misfortune of being sandwiched between two of your fellow officers. They reeked of cigarettes and the stale beer they had spilled down their civilian clothing.

You sipped idly at your beer and occasionally reached for the chips at the center of the table. You dipped them in some ketchup and ate as you slowly got a headache from your colleagues insistent yelling.

You could see in the corner of the bar, taskforce 141. even the sight of all four of them together was a little intimidating. Each of them were trained killers. While you have never actually killed someone on the field, you could only imagine what it took for them to do that.

It was a little scary.

"Hey!" You heard. You looked over and was met very close to your fellow officer.

"Can ya get us some more beers?"

This was your chance to get away from the table, so you nodded and skittered off. Your ears burned when you heard their sneering comments about you as you headed to the bar.

"Can I get two Heinekens, and a Tennents." You heard.

You stood beside the one they called Soap. He had his elbows rested on the wood of the bar. You tried not to make eye contact with him or the large bandage that was covering an upper side of his head.

"Are they botherin' ya, bonnie?" He asked, not making eye contact with you.

"They're not too bad. I think they're just drunk."

He shrugged, "Well, if you want to get away from them." He turned to look at you. His eyes were so blue, they almost struck fear into you. But his smile at you softened your fears, "You can join us. I don't think the captain will mind."

His attention was brought back when he heard the bartender's voice. He gave you one last look out of the corner of his eye and tilted his head in the direction of his table, "Go now, before you're 'friends' notice anything."

Without thinking about it too much, you headed towards the taskforce's table and looked at all of them.

Price was the first to smile, "seems like our sargent got you out that situation." He shifted over on the bench he was seated on, "C'mere." His voice made your heart skip.

You carefully sat down beside him at the end of the bench and he threw his arm over the back of it, almost touching your shoulders. You froze when you heard his voice in your ear.

"You should've asked Soap to get ya a beer." He chuckled.

His chuckle made you gooey on the inside. Like melted caramel on the pavement. Sticky and heavy in your chest. You tried not to show too much expression at his sweet words.

"I'm not a big drinker." You replied.

"Aw." Price said as he carefully played with a strand of your hair, "Are ya a real party animal after a few too many pints?"

"The opposite. I get a headache and fall asleep."

Price laughed. His shoulders tense and his mouth wide as he did so. He then shook his head, "Well aren't you just the sweetest thing since jam."

You spent the rest of the evening so close to Price. His hand was so close to touching your back. You wanted those large, rough hands all over your back. On your breasts and down your thighs.

Working man hands.

Any time he laughed at a stupid story, you felt it right in your core. You pressed your thighs together and tried to laugh along to the story.

You quickly noticed that he wasn't drinking either, he had been nursing the same beer most of the night. And after that, he switched to water.

It was late when the soldiers started to file out of the bar and head back to base.

"Well, I'll need a good walk after tonight." He said as he got up. His eyes on you as you got up from your seat.

"Not takin' the Uber?" Kyle asked.

"Nah. We won't all fit." Price remarked, "Me and the officer will walk it back." He looked at you, "If she chooses too, of course."

You swallowed and nodded, "I'd love to. I think I need to stretch my legs out."

Price and Kyle shared a glance. Kyle laughed into his hand as he left to find his teammates who were searching for the ride home. Once Price was away from the table, he held his hand out for you.

"C'mon now. Before it gets too late."

"It's almost past midnight." You remarked.

He gently took your hand and led you out of the bar, "Well you missy, need some sleep at some point. Can't have ya fallin' asleep on your feet tomorrow. Soldier's mind has to be sharp."

The hand holding felt intimate, or maybe you were thinking too much about it. But you enjoyed the feeling.

You pressed your luck, "I don't think I'll be able get up on time tomorrow."

He looked at you, under the orange glow of the street lamps. He replied, "Then I guess you'll have to sleep with me tonight, birdie."

Your brain turned off at that point. You remembered nodding like an idiot and that the walk felt like it went on forever. But when you came back to planet Earth. His hands were on your blouse.

"You look good in blue." He remarked as he undid the buttons with such grace.

"Not as nice as your eyes." You replied softly.

He took the shirt off your arms and his hands cupped your breasts briefly before he started to undo your bra. He then replied, "Blue like the ocean, and well, I want to explore all of ya."

You almost choked on your tongue and your eyes went wide. You replied, "Well... Not much to see."

He chuckled, "Well, love. You're wrong. Not get out of that skirt and let me show ya how badly I want it."

He didn't have condoms in his room, he wasn't sleeping with the entire base. So you two would have to get creative. First it started with him eating you out. Then you sucked him off. And finally you could sleep soundly in those strong arms.

It was a simple plan. You liked simple.

Once you were nude, his hands roamed your body. His fingers were so dry and calloused, that the scratchiness of it made your nipples hard.

"Been thinkin' about ya lately." He said softly. His voice still has a gruff to it that made you warm all over, "Since you came into my office. The way you looked at me, it was like you were tryin' to undress me with yer eyes."

And you thought you were being cool.

"I'm sorry." You instinctively apologized.

"Don't be. I like when you do it." He hoisted your thighs onto his shoulders. He gave them flesh a heart squeeze before he gave you a look, "Because then I can undress ya for real." Then planted a kiss on your pussy lips.

You put your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. The feeling of his warm tongue on your clit made you choke back louder moans. The feeling was euphoric, his tongue was talented. It left you wanting more.

And more he was willing to give.

He knew exactly what tricks to play to made you feel good. His nose against your clit and his tongue licking around your entrance. He held your hips up and he worked on your cunt.

He had you holding onto the sheets because you couldn't yank on his hair. He was so strong and domineering. It was an intense feeling. He wanted to make sure that you felt good.

When your hole fluttered at the feeling of immense pleasure, he took great pleasure in himself. While he was shirtless, his pants were still on as he keeled on the bed to eat you out like the finest pastry ever constructed.

"Ah! Price!" You said through your hands.

"So good for me." He said between licks, "I knew ya would be. Eager to please, be a good girl." His accent sounded heavier as he became drunk off the sensation of eating you out and the pain in his pants.

You nodded, "I'll be good for you."

"That's what I like to hear." He purred in response.

Price's tongue was an intense feeling. He played with your clit with a precision that took the wind out of you. You felt soaked between your legs and could do very little about it. You tried to keep quiet but the intensity of his worship left you unable to hold back much.

Your heart pounded, you felt the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Your pussy ached, you wanted, no, needed Price. The captain, the big strong man who thought you were just the sweetest thing.

"I take good care of ya, love, eh?" He chuckled against your sex, "Make ya feel good. Don't get thinkin' I do this to every officer. No, no, only the good girls who listen to me."

You made a small 'eep' noise when he facial hair brushed against your pussy lips. You curled you shoulders closer to your face. And all Price did was chuckle.

"Atta girl." He purred, "Such a good listener." He gave a slow, lazy lick across your pussy. He tasted your wetness like it was fine wine. He made a pleased noise, "I think I'll be keepin' ya for a while." He already heard wedding bells in his ears as he went back to eating you out.

You were far from a weak woman, a tad on the quiet side. But far from weak. Price liked that, a woman who could hold her own. He held your thighs to his head and pressed them to his cheeks.

His cock was painfully hard, pressed against his slacks as he continued his movements. With a quiver of your thighs to his head, he knew you were getting close.

He took his thumb and rubbed it against your clit as he put his full attention to your hole. The new noises you were making elated him. He continued to push and push you.

"i. I'm close!" You whimpered.

"Good girl." He purred. His facial hair wet with your slickness. He felt your thighs press against his head, for a moment he wished you'd crush him. And you came hard with your toes curled and your head thrown back. The drop back to reality from the height of pleasure was intense.

He pulled away and wiped his mouth. He knew he'd have to do a full clean of his beard later. As much as he loved the taste, the smell would draw a few glances come morning.

You looked to him, you could see the noticeable bulge in his pants. You reached for him, but he took you by the arms and placed you beside him on your hands and knees at the bottom of the bed.

He rubbed your hair gently, "You did this to me." He remarked. He got his cock out of his slacks and the size made your hole clench.

You looked at him, "I've never taken anything this big before."

He chuckled, "Aw don't worry, love. I'll take good care of ya. That's what a captain does to a good girl like you."

"And what if I was bad?" You curiously asked. Heat spread in your cheeks.

He smiled, "Well, you wouldn't be able to talk for a few days when I was done with you. Hold your head down while you choked on my cock."

Your eyes went wide, you let him guide your head as you placed your lips around his cock. You were glad that you were a good girl. Your pussy felt so slick as you began to suck him off.

He held you hair gently, there wasn't much force to his movements. Just a guiding hand as he raised and lowered your head onto his cock. He was impressed by how much you knew already. But almost eight inches of cock was a bit much for anyone.

And he knew you weren't some slut. You were his good girl after all. But he'd teach you everything you needed to know.

He switched his hand in your hair and leaned over so he could finger you while you sucked him off. The feeling of his hands all over you left your head feeling heavier. But you were determined to make the captain proud.

Saliva coated your chin quickly as you tried to take more of his size. You gripped onto his sturdy thigh and let him do what he wanted. Your eyes were shut but if you were open they'd feel like they were in the back of your head.

"Good girl." He said softly, his voice rough, "That's a good girl. You know exactly what you're doin'."

You whimpered in response. You felt the curl of passion in your gut as you continued to pleasure him. He was good to you, a good man.

"Ah, John." You grumbled with his cock in your mouth.

He leaned in and kissed you on the top of the head, "Careful, don't choke." His words were encouraging. But they only made pleasure pool in your gut.

He was so gentle with his touches, even as his fingers plug your hole. He continued to guide your mouth on his cock. The feeling was immense, it bled through him like molasses.

He rolled his hips ups a little and pushed his cock a little further, just barely nudging the back of your throat. He groaned under his breath. With a few more movements of your head, he tilted his head back and let out a groan.

He came into your throat. You were shocked for a moment before you swallowed it greedily. He was panting heavily as he let go of you and rested back on his elbows.

You looked up at him with blurry vision. He reached for you and wiped your eyes lovingly. You pouted your bottom lip and he pulled you in for a soft kiss.

He held you face so delicately, your wetness got on your chin from his fingers inside of you. You moaned into the kiss, the saltiness on both of your lips.

When he broke the kiss, he led you further up the bed and wrapped his strong arms around you. He kissed at your cheek and neck with a sweet kind of love.

"How was that, baby girl?" He asked.

You nodded, "Perfect." The words felt heavy on your tongue but it was a great feeling.

He kissed the top of your head as he pulled you to his hairy chest, "Good girl."

"I'm sorry I made a mess." You mumbled.

He stroked your back, letting you melt against him. He assured you, "Don't be, love. I love when good girls make a mess." His words curled around your brain.

He gave you gentle kisses and admired the feeling of you against him. He let you rest, in the back his mind he pictured you in picturesque white, a glowing smile and a ring around you finger.

His eyes were warm when he gazed down at you. He continued to rub your back. Mrs. Price was all he could think of as he held you. <3

[holylulusworld]

Double the love

Summary: Two for the price of one.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Mafia!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, betrayal, lies, secrets, arguments, kinda kidnapping, a little violence/mentions of violence

Catch up here: Fool me twice & Double the trouble

Back at your apartment, you’re fuming. It could’ve been such a nice day if not for Nick and Bucky ruining it from the start. You didn’t even get the chance to have breakfast in silence. No. They had to grab you and storm out of the diner.

“So, you told your brother to watch over me only for your enemies to find out you both want me?” You cross your arms over your chest and glare at both men. They invaded not only your life but your small apartment too. “Good job, Mr. Barnes. You protected me very well. Not only from getting fucked by a stranger but your enemies too.”

Nick huffs. He expected as much. “Colibri, let us explain.”

“Yeah, explain to me that you led your enemies, stone-cold killers on top of all, straight to my place.” You pout and angrily stomp your foot when Nick dares to grab the ugly bear he won for you at the fair.  “Hey, take your hands off, Mr. Bear!”

“You kept it.” Nick grins while his brother is pacing the room. Bucky is about to just grab you and run. He doesn’t have time to explain that their enemies could strike at any moment.

“It accidentally ended up in my suitcase,” you lie, and look away. Nick doesn’t need to know that you can’t sleep without the ugly bear. “Now give it back!”

“Why?” He holds it above his head and smirks. “If you don’t want anything reminding you of our time together, we can just throw it away.”

“Give it back.” You jump up, trying the grab the bear. “I’m warning you!” You angrily kick his shin. He yelps and drops the bear. “I warned you.”

Bucky laughs loudly. “You let her kick you?” He snorts. “That’s what you get for messing with her bear.”

“That’s what you get for messing with me, Barnes,” you growl in Bucky’s direction. “Now get out of my apartment!”

“Doll, I told you on our way here that we cannot leave you. One of our enemies knows about you, Y/N. He will hurt you or worse get back at Nick and me. Please don’t put yourself in danger by sending us away.”

If your mom didn’t raise you better, you’d love to yell at Bucky, or at least give him the stinky eye. You pucker your lips instead and glare at Bucky.

“I didn’t put myself in danger!” You raise your voice. “You put me in danger. Why couldn’t you leave me alone? Why pretending to be someone else, and letting that pervert watch over me.”

Nick looks offended at your words. Usually, he’d put you over his lap and spank your ass. He hums and bites his lower lip because he can’t put his hands on you. Not now, and not in front of his brother.

“What do you expect me to do now,” you huff, annoyed because the brothers ruined your fresh start too. “I can’t just drop everything and run. I built a new life in this little town.”

“Baby doll, you don’t have to run,” Bucky softly says while stepping closer to you. He gets closer and closer until he can wrap his arms around your waistline. “Now, Nick. We’ve got no choice.”

“Remember, this was your idea,” Nick grumbles. He gets a syringe out, murmuring an apology as you throw insults at both men. You wiggle in Bucky’s grip and growl at Nick. “Sorry, Colibri. It’s for the best. Rumlow and his allies are on their way here. We only try to protect you.”

“I’ll kill you all,” you grunt and slap the bear in Bucky’s face. “I dare you to poke me with that thing.” You’re furious and try to get away from the syringe. “I hate needles…I hate them.”

“If you agree to come with us, we don’t need the needle,” Bucky purrs your name. He nuzzles his face in your neck, sighing as you try to fend Nick off with the bear. “I know you’re angry at us, but please let us protect you.”

You hold still for a second, eyes darting from Nick to the syringe and Bucky.

“Get away from me with that needle.” Lips pursed you prepare yourself to go for a sprint the moment Bucky releases you. “I’ll let you explain things if you put the needle away.”

Nick looks at his brother. He’d hate to use the syringe. It’s worse enough that you hate him now and won’t even look at him for longer than a moment. “Buck?”

“Okay, doll. I’ll let you go, and we will sit on the sofa and talk. I’m sorry we tried to do it the easy way.” Bucky slowly releases you. He steps away and nods at his brother. “Let’s talk then.”

You flash Nick a smile before you bolt toward the door. Fingertips touching the door handle, you giggle. You tricked them well and will just start anew somewhere else.

“Bad move, Colibri.” This time, Nick wraps his arm around your waistline. “I thought we were making progress. Do you want me to spank your ass for being a bad girl?”

You whimper. “No…”

“Would you look at our great escapist, Nick,” Bucky purrs your name, and steps closer to cup your cheek. “Doll, I’m disappointed.” You curse his name and threaten to cut off his cock. “Now let’s not use these words.” Bucky softly kisses your cheek. “We only want to talk.”

They had to use the syringe on you because you tried to escape more than once. Now you sit in the living room of Bucky’s place, calling them names. With your arms crossed over your chest, you watch them warily.

“Assholes! You used the syringe,” you snap at them. “How could you?”

“You tried to stab me with a cactus,” Nick mutters. “That hurt, Colibri. You didn’t have to poke my ass with it.”

“I hope there are holes in your ass now,” you grin victoriously at Bucky because he didn’t get away easily either. He’s got a black eye, and his hair is missing a few strands. 

“Doll, stop this now,” Bucky raises his voice. He pokes your nose with his index finger, smirking. “We promised to tell you everything, and we will.”

“I hope you’ll get bald.” It’s childish, but you feel like you won because you got the two mobsters good.

Bucky cups your face, thumb running over your lower lip. “You’re dangerous, and not nice. Where is the sweet girl I fell in love with?”

“Maybe she doesn’t like getting tricked, or called girl,” you say, glaring at Bucky. “I only wanted to live my life without getting fucked over by you and your brother. Now you stole that from me too. Just like my dream of the future with you got destroyed. All I got is double the trouble.”

“Baby doll,” Bucky whispers your name and leans closer. “You got double the love too.”

Tags in reblog.

[writingoddess1125]

Over Achiever

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

This is just Corny Corn Fluff!

Enjoy!

Next Part >>>

Support me on Ko-Fi!

Sitting on your couch you stared at the stack of papers before you in total shock- it was suppose to be a simple checkup.. not something like this.

You especially felt unsure since your husband wasn't here- He should have been here for something as important as this.. However his missions were important for the world- That and its what you signed up for when you married Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

You and Simon had been married for 3 years and dated for nearly 5 before then, Meeting at a resturant you owned when he showed up during leave to grab some take away. That was the humble start to a beautiful and gentle relationship the two of you shared.

You two had every conversation in the book about what you both expected in life and what the plans were.. This however was not one of them..

"Fuck- I've got to tell him.."

It was still a good month out till he returned and didn't use his phone while out on missions so you knew it was off in his pocket- he needed to know however.. so you figured a letter would be fine- it would be a cute and easiest way so he wasnt surprised with a heart attack when he got home and saw you like that... jumping to your feet you grab the car keys quickly and rushed to the closest store and then the post office- How bad could it be anyway?

WEEK LATER

On the other side of the world Ghost leaned against an outdoor wall, they were just back from their latest mission and had a cool down before the next one.

He missed you- terribly.. he missed his home and truthfully didn't want to be sweating his arse off when he could be with you. It surprised him in truth, before he used missions to escape the idea of a home- However now he was excited to return home... to you.

Simon was still highly secretive however so no one knew he was married, besides Price who had been invited to the wedding. He had to protect you, his little slice of sunshine in a overall dark life.

"Riley, you've got a letter" Price called out snapping the man from his thoughts, Ghost surprised to hear this- He never really got mail even from you since he insisted it was emergency only to avoid any information leaks.

Stepping forward quickly he grabbed the pale blue envelope- Soap now also curious as he peaked at his Lieutenant.

"Oh? Someone special?" Soap teased, however curiosity burning in his gaze.

Rolling his eyes Ghost opened the letter and saw a tiny plain card, a spike of anxiety hitting his chest as he slowly opened the card and felt the air suddently sucked directly from his lungs.

The team watched Ghost eyes widen like big blue saucers, worry now blanketing the group as Ghost closed the card and then opened it again like to confirm.

"Eh, Lieutenant?.. You alright there?" Soap said softly as he stepped forward to touch the man's shoulder. Price and Gaz also getting closer to see if the masked man was okay-

"Y-Yes I'm fine.. move" He grunted out, the men stepping back as Ghost went to step forward before passing out misstep and falling into the dirt.

"Holy Fuck!!" They all yelled as Ghost fashionably face planted into the dirt and Soap and Gaz scrambling to help the man to his legs which had seemed to suddently turn to jello- Ghost wobbling up as his mass seemed to suddently be too much for him, dropping the paper into the dirt which Price quickly scooped up to keep from getting damaged.

"Take him to the medical bay" Price said quickly as they could hear Ghost muttering something about a van and other random shit- worried their hardened killer had finally lost his mind as they dragged him off to the medbay.

Price holding the card in hand and cracking open to take a peak at what just laid out his Lieutenant-

Congratulations!

You Over Achiever!

Si I'm pregnant and they are triplets!

You over achieving Ass-!!!

I love you and can't wait to see you home!

- Love (Y/N) ♡

The ultrasound picture with the clearly labeled 1,2,3 in red over the black and white images. Price couldnt help but crack a smile and chuckle softly as he closed the card- Looking as he saw Ghost still being rushed to the medical bay.

"I'll be damned-"

A tiny cornerstore card had knocked out one of the world's best solders.

[syoddeye]

more reading recs

because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.

as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.

there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.

i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.

without further ado...

Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader

"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.

The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader

DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.

Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting

Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.

Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader

Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!

Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap

This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.

Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader

Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.

Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader

I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.

Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader

I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.

Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)

pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.

plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost

Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.

~~

i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.

[arreuyas]

HOW MUCH? | Toji X Male! Reader

*⁠.⁠✧ In which he was paid to kill you but you offer him to get fucked instead.

warnings: sub!toji, degradation, edging, spanking/slapping, choking, bratty toji, cursing, toji is a bit out of character tbh, zenin bc he doesn't have megumi and his wife here.

wordcount: 1.8k

—

TOJI ZENIN, the sorcerer killer, doesn't do any extra work for free. But it's not against his rules to accept a request from a client who is a sorcerer. He doesn't question his client's motives or what they are after all, what matters it the good ol' money.

That's why, when he had a gun aimed at your head and you smirked instead of trying to doge or counter-attack like most sorcerers would do, he raised an eyebrow until the words left your lips: “How much for getting laid by me? I'll pay double of what you're going to get.”

Of course, betraying his clients is one thing that he doesn't do. So yes, he did shoot you, pissed off that those were your last words— or were supposed to be, since the bullet didn't get through your head at all. His eyes widened when you appeared in front of him, hands in your pockets and eyes of someone who wasn't planning to fight him.

“C'mon, don't be like that~” you smiled, your sneaky hand going to his waist and bringing him closer. At this point Toji was so dumbfounded that he took some time to understand what was happening. It was the first time his target flirted with him so blatantly, after all. “How about three times the price, then? Three times the amount and you let me fuck you once.”

Three times the price of your head... it was big money, and it certainly catched his interest. It's not like Toji minded sleeping with men after all, the problem was betraying his client. “And an extra so you can kill whoever it was who asked for my head.”

Alright, that was enough to convince a money-hungry like Toji. He lowered his gun, still a but uncertain about the deal but fuck it, he would think about the consequences later. You smirked with that reaction from the non-sorcerer.

That's how you two ended up in a hotel room, Toji sitting down on your lap, straddling with that big ass of his. You already had a prominent bulge on your pants as the Zenin rubbing his covered rear and dick against your thigh, letting out some grunts between his heavy breaths from time to time.

Fucking humiliating. It was what Toji thought. He was literally acting like a whore— moving himself on top of you for some money. Well, at least the money was way higher than what a whore would get, but still...

“Damnit, stop fucking teasing me.” He protested when you started pinching his exposed nipples, another grunt coming from him as his body trembled. That bulky man wasn't used to having anyone touching him like that, he usually was the one who held the reins in bed.

“What, can't handle a bit of teasing, sorcerer killer?” You chuckled, rubbing the wet spot on his boxers, the pre-cum leaking out his tip already.

“Can't you just fuck me already–” You stopped his words with a rough spank on his ass, making him shut up with a groan. One of his hands instinctively moving to hold your shoulder.

“Shut up, slut.” You hissed, taking him off your lap and throwing him in bed. Then you unbuckled your belt, glaring down at him. “Take off your pants and spread your legs for me.”

Toji was about to complain but instead he rolled his eyes and obliged the command, getting himself naked. Yet, he didn't spread his legs, receiving a sigh from you. You got on top of the bed, your hand moving to his neck before he could react and gripping tightly on it, chocking him just slightly.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?” You gripped tighter on his neck but Toji kept glaring at you, a hand on your wrist threatening to break your arm. “Unless you want to forget about the money and fight me instead. And believe me when I tell you I'm going to make you fight while being naked.”

He let go with a groan, and you let his neck free again— a reddish mark of your digits on the skin of his neck and you liked it. When you looked down, Toji's dick was twitching and more precum was leaking from it, then you chuckled with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Someone likes getting choked and degraded? Such a whore.”

You grabbed a lube from the bedside table, pouring the liquid on your fingers and some on Toji's rear, then watching it go down to the entrance of his ass, his naughty hole blinking. You didn't wait much though, there was no reason to be gentle with him— and you knew that Toji would prefer that way, too. So you immediately inserted two fingers inside, already moving them to loosen him up. Toji grunted, biting his lower lip with his eyebrows furrowed before you added a third finger.

The Zenin had such a nice body, it almost looked like a sin— as if he was begging to be fucked. After all, what's the use of having such thick thighs and such a sexy ass if not for fucking them? You glanced down at him while playing with his hole, fingering him and teasing his prostate, your other hand stroking your cock slowly.

“Enough of foreplay. Spread your hole for me.” You said, watching him click his tongue in annoyance but still doing as you told. You held one of his legs on top of your shoulder. “And stop rolling your eyes or clicking your tongue every time I tell you to do something, it's getting me soft.”

Toji scoffed.

“Ha. Then maybe you're not a real man if a roll of eyes is enough to—” He couldn't finish his sentence as you thrusted your cock inside, invading his hole in one swift move. He gasped, his hands letting go from his ass to grab a handful of the sheets as he glared at you like he wanted to kill you.

You smirked down at him with a mocking gaze. “What were you saying about real man again? I don't think I heard you.” You teased, pulling your cock halfway out before slamming it back inside, the Zenin letting out a grunt. You moved your free hand to pinch his nipple, pulling on it.

“You bastard...” He muttered as you stopped your hips for a moment, leaning down to his chest. Your tongue licked and sucked his right nipple then your teeth sunk down for a bite, Toji flinched and groaned from pain mixed with pleasure. “The hell are you doing–”

“Taming you.” You cut him off with a sadistic smile. Toji wanted to make that smile of yours disappear because he was starting to like it more than he should. “From now on, every single time you complain or call me anything that isn't master you're going to be punished.”

You chuckled, pulling your cock out almost completely and slamming it back in, moving in slow thrusts. “Understand?”

You spanked his ass again, a silent warning for him to answer. The non-sorcerer groaned, biting his lip in both annoyance and pleasure. “Yes...” He took a second to continue: “...Master.”

“See? It's not that hard to stop being such a brat.” You said, starting to fasten the pace of your thrusts. Who the hell are you calling a brat? Toji wanted to shout, but didn't. Your veiny, fat cock was filling his insides and the tip pressing against his prostate was making Toji flinch every time you aimed at that spot. He was starting to actually moan too, instead of only letting out those grunts and heavy breaths of his.

The moment you grabbed his dick and starting stroking it he whimpered, one of his hands grabbing the sheets as the other was behind him, grasping the pillow. He felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge as you moved back and forth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Faster— Ugh, I'm close...”

But then you stopped moving your hips, pressing your thumb against the tip of his cock. The Zenin's eyes immediately moved to you, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance and confusion. “What are you doing? I said I'm close to cumming.”

“I heard what you said,” you chuckled, slamming your cock inside one more time then stopping. “You're going to beg for if you want to cum. Or else we're staying like this for the rest of the evening.”

“Beg? Me? Ha. In your dreams–” Slap! Toji's eyes widened when he felt the hit against his cheek, his teeth gritting in anger as he glared at you, his mouth already opening to protest when you raised your hand again, now spanking his ass instead. “Fuck, cut it out!”

“Beg.” You repeated, your thumb making small circles on the tip of his hard cock, smearing the precum as his body squirmed under your touch. Toji knew he was at his breaking point and being unable to orgasm didn't hurt yet, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

“Damnit... Please, let me cum.” He muttered, glancing away with a frown. You raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, shaking your head in response. Another spank on his ass, Toji letting out a low moan.

“Beg like you mean it, non-sorcerer.” You said in a seductive whisper, your tongue sticking out from your lips to lick his neck up to his jaw.

“Please!” He said, thrusting his hips up against your touch, searching for his high only to be stopped by your hands keeping him still. The Zenin was physically stronger than you, and he knew that. But maybe because he was too horny he couldn't react very well or even think about fighting back and dominate you instead.

“Not enough.” You said, threatening to pull your dick out from him but his legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you back inside. You hummed in amusement, not expecting that from him. “So?”

“Please...” he repeated, then added: “Master. Keep fucking my guts until I cum.” You noticed how Toji couldn't keep glaring at you. He was embarrassed, and you found that cute. It was so unlike Toji to act so submissive like that from the little bit of time you talked with him.

“You still have a lot to learn... but for now I'll let it pass.” It was weird how you talked as if this wouldn't be the first and last time you two slept together. But Toji didn't have much time to react, as you finally started moving again, your cock inside him and your hand moving tightly and fast around his shaft.

“Fuck! Yes– Harder!” He moaned out loud and it only took a few more thrusts and strokes for him to shoot his cum, his back arching and his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his legs trembled around you. His seed dirtied his abdomen and his hole clenched against your cock tightly, almost not letting you move.

It was such a sexy sight. You also didn't endure much after that, cumming right after him. Your load being pumped deep inside the Zenin as you let out a grunt, biting your lower lip with a smirk.

After some seconds and when the ecstasy broke down, Toji switched back to his cold mode almost immediately, looking at you. “About the money– What–” His eyes widened when you thrusted against him again, a involuntary whimper leaving his lips. You were still hard.

“Oh? I don't remember saying we were done. How much for a round two?”

—

©2023 hanfobia do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.

[eliima141]

Part two of Dragon!Price and Deer!Reader

Warnings!: nsfw, age gaps, breeding, two cock price, cubby/thick reader.

Im gonna try more fluff this time. :3

• Since Price is used to nesting and being around female dragons he would so try to get Reader to nest as well, mixing their cultures together.

• Price’s favorite positions are lazy positions. The two of you being comfortable together while he rams into Readers tiny little cunt. Making them easily cock drunk from how deep the angle was. Specially in spooning positions since he could have more control of your legs, being able to move them up and down to hit your gummy little spots.

•Price the type of guy to over do foreplay. Kissing Reader for at least 12 minutes before finally trailing kisses down readers neck and jaw, putting his giant leg between your legs to grind your cubby pussy against it. Taunting you as you leave a wet spot on the pant of his knee.

•Before he started courting you he was never much of munch. Yea sure he would give the laddies he did before you tons of pleasure but going down on them and lapping their folds with his tongue? He didn’t see the appeal. until Reader came into his forest, well How could he not? They were so sweet smelling and soft, even better is that they had a fat fucking pussy. Who in their right mind would refuse to be in between thighs like theirs? It was like trying to find a treasure between their thick folds, sucking on readers clit and tonguing her gooey hole. The satisfaction was unbeatable when he made Reader cum on his face for the first time. He was good with his cock and hands but being able to suck on Readers cunt was something new, like a new level being unlocked. Ever since then his beard has been getting more and more bleached every time he’s off of deployment. 141 teases him for it, his dark brown beard and mustache slowly getting streaks of red, orange and other colors into the mix around his mouth.

• Price can and will make you black out during sex, specially near his ruts, he gets more energy in to actually fuck you like a mad man. Gripping your hips before slamming you down onto his cock, readjusting and then shoving you into a mating press. And shit, his ruts are even worse, monthly ruts, lasting for about 3 days to a week. Since Reader starting dating price they had become a regular at the towns furniture store due to how many couches and beds they break on a monthly. The poor wall having dents, scratches and holes where ever they place the bed frame. Whatever at least they know what room to not put their kids in. Might as well sound proof the place due to how loud they fuck.

•Price has a breeding kink no doubt. First time he ever got to touch you he imagined what you would be like pregnant, such a tiny thing waddling around with a giant belly full of little dragon and deer hybrids.

•I dont think dragon price would be one to dabble in much aftercare. Washing your little body after scenting and marking you all over? Why would he do that? He already does his best to make sure you stink of his scent. Cumming in your lotion to have a tad of that scent, rubbing his scent glands over any part of you at any given second, when your not around spilling your clean clothes onto the bed, then instantly laying on them, making sure he it had been a few hours since he showered. But price would care for you, not leaving you cold and alone, cuddling you. almost whining when getting up to get you some fruit and water maybe some pain killers depending on the type of session.