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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️

All, Most, Some, None

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Snow melts in the heat of blood.

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending

A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.

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

You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity.

When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder.

John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times.

For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons.

“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.

“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”

A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.

“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago.

He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him.

Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”

“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”

You turn away quickly, face burning.

“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts.

“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun.

“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.”

Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion.

“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him.

Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing.

The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face.

It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you.

“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back.

You smile at him, huffing a laugh.

“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.

“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head.

“...Alright.”

“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this.

He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before.

“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer.

Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.

The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine.

—

“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation.

It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position.

To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp.

John had been hit through the right thigh.

Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.

Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him.

“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.

“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!”

“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him.

Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.

Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.

“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.

There was too much blood.

Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.

There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.

You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.

Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do.

“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet.

There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes.

“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”

Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob.

“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly.

Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you.

The both of you…

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his.

Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.

You can forget that the both of you are dying.

John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes.

“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.

The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail.

“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek.

“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.”

“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”

It’s obvious what you mean.

John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.”

The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it.

You should have told him sooner.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold.

You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.

—

In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other.

What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.

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hamsterclaw · 7 months

Text

Fugitive

You're kidnapped by a desperate man and you can't see a way that this is going to end well, for either of you.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Word count: 10k

Genre: Escaped criminal, convict Yoongi

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mentions of a gun, threat of gun violence

Author note: This story is based on the romance novel Perfect by Judith McNaught. I've taken a few liberties with the plot and characters.

The coffee at this mountainside diner is good, warming your belly as you frown at the snow outside.

All the weather reports say there’s a storm coming from the east, but it doesn’t take a trooper to know that.

Even a city girl like you can see how the sky’s darkening, how the wind’s relentless, how the temperature is rapidly dropping.

You’ve got snow tires on, four wheel drive, emergency supplies in your trunk, but you think you won’t need them, you’re heading west and you’ve made good time on your way to visit your sister and her newborn.

Like your dad used to say, your family’s full of grit.

You swallow your smile when you see the man standing just outside the diner looking straight at you.

Did he think you were smiling at him?

You look down hastily.

The waitress comes round with the check you signalled for, you put money on the little acrylic tray and get ready to go.

By the time you step outside, the wind’s picked up even more, snow swirling, making your eyes want to screw shut under your beanie.

You don’t hear him until he’s almost on top of you.

He’s not a lot taller than you, and he’s not particularly dressed for the weather, in denim on denim, a parka. No hat or gloves.

His hair is dark, as are his eyes, and his skin is pale, like he doesn’t get a lot of sun.

He looks vaguely familiar but you can’t really place him.

‘You have a flat,’ he says, pointing to one of your front tyres.

You look down in dismay only to see that he’s right.

Shit!

‘I can help you change it, if you’ve got a spare,’ he offers.

‘Would you?’ you ask, grateful.

‘Yeah, not a problem.’

You show him where the spare and tools are, and as he crouches by the tyre, you’re very aware of how, unlike you, he doesn’t have gloves on.

You feel a surge of guilt.

‘Hey,’ you offer, ‘whilst you’re doing that, can I get you a hot drink or something?’

He looks up at you, hands braced on the flat.

‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Of course,’ you say, relieved that he’s not too polite to take you up on your offer. ‘I’ll be right back.’

You hurry back into the diner to get him a coffee. As you wait you wonder if he might want a sandwich too, and impulsively, you order him a hot sandwich.

He can always say no if he doesn’t want it, you reason.

By the time you come out, he’s putting the flat in your trunk, tidying up the tools he used.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him, passing him the drink.

‘No problem,’ he says.

A little awkwardly, you hold out the wrapped sandwich. ‘I got you a sandwich too, if you want it. It’s turkey.’

He accepts with another murmured ‘thank you.’

You’re wondering if you should offer him money for his kindness when he says, hesitant, ‘I could use a lift, if you’re heading west. I’ve got a job interview I’m hoping to make it to.’

Now you’re the hesitant one. He’s shown you nothing but kindness, but he is still a total stranger.

He waits without looking at you, sipping his coffee, keeping his distance.

You think about his lack of warm clothes, and as you’re looking at him, you notice the crispness of the creases in his clothing, remnants of how they must have been folded when he bought them.

You think about his calloused palms and how he accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

‘Hey, it’s ok,’ he starts to say, and it’s that, more than anything else, that spurs you on to reply.

‘It’s fine,’ you say. ‘I’ll take you as far as I’m heading.’

***

He gets into the passenger seat, and from the sigh that passes his lips you realise that he really was as cold as you thought he might be.

You start the engine, and warm air starts to blow through your A/C vents.

You check that the GPS is still set and glance over at him.

‘You ready?’

You’re a mile or so out of the diner, listening to the radio, when it occurs to you to ask him his name.

‘I’m Y/N,’ you say.

‘Yoongi,’ comes the reply.

In here, away from the whistling wind, you can hear the gravel in his voice.

‘What job are you going for?’ you ask.

‘Just some construction job my friend’s lined up for me near Maisan,’ Yoongi says.

He glances in the rearview mirror.

‘I hope you get it,’ you tell him. ‘Do you live around there?’

He seems to hesitate.

‘I don’t mean to pry,’ you say, quickly.

To bridge the sudden silence, you say, ‘I’m going to see my sister and her new baby. She chose a good time to have him, right before a storm.’

You notice movement up ahead, a police roadblock.

Beside you, your new acquaintance sits up.

‘Nice and easy,’ he says, and you look at him, confused, until you notice that he has a gun in his hand.

Pointed right at you.

You straighten up so quickly your neck cracks.

‘What —-‘

‘Nice and easy,’ Yoongi says again, a hardness to his voice you haven’t heard up until now.

‘There are six shots in this gun, but I’ll only need one to hurt you,’ he continues.

Your hands tighten on the wheel, and your lips clamp together, trying to stifle the squeak of terror that threatens to slip out.

‘I just want you to know that I will hurt you if you try anything,’ Yoongi says. There’s a seriousness in his voice that makes your blood chill. ‘So nice and easy, get us past this roadblock.’

You’ve slowed automatically as you approach the uniformed policemen, your years of driving making your body do the expected things despite the way your head is reeling.

Yoongi has a gun, and he seems perfectly capable of using it on you.

The fear crystallises into a single sob before your throat closes completely. Your breathing quickens but you know you’ll need to look normal, unsuspicious, to get you and Yoongi past the police.

‘Are they looking for you?’ you ask. Your voice is shuddery, you’re trembling so hard.

In response, Yoongi jams the barrel of the gun against you, high up, against your ribs, so hard it’s like he’s impaled you.

‘Shut up and get us through this,’ he snarls.

Your lips snap together again, and you make a conscious effort to pull yourself together.

Just before you stop, Yoongi says, ‘If you try anything, I won’t just be trying to hurt you. I’ll kill you.’

His tone is low, and another shiver runs through you.

You roll down the window.

The police trooper leans in. ‘Where are you headed?’

‘We’re going to see my sister in Maisan,’ you say, grateful at least, that your voice is steady.

Beside you, Yoongi’s sitting perfectly still.

‘You’ve not picked a good time to go,’ says the trooper.

This time, it’s Yoongi who answers. ‘I did say we should wait, but my girlfriend’s been looking forward to seeing her new nephew.’

He shrugs, a picture of indulgent exasperation.

The trooper laughs along with Yoongi even as you try to make desperate eye contact with him.

‘Better carry on then, hopefully you’ll make it before the storm hits.’

Then he’s waving you off, and you have a split second of panic, a moment where you consider screaming, before Yoongi’s gun jabs into your ribs again.

Again, your body responds before you do, driving you away from your last chance to seek help.

***

Twenty miles out from the diner, Yoongi tosses your phone out of the window.

Forty miles out, he programs a different address into your GPS.

It’s another ten miles before you find your voice again.

‘You can take the car, you know, and leave me here. I can’t call anyone.’

Yoongi almost looks like he’s considering it.

‘I can’t leave you here out in the mountains in the middle of nowhere,’ he tells you. ‘You’ll die of exposure, especially if you can’t call for help.’

‘Also,’ he adds, almost as if it’s an afterthought, ‘you know the address of where we’re going.’

‘I didn’t see it,’ you say, too quickly.

Yoongi’s silent.

Finally, he says, ‘Just keep driving.’

‘Please,’ you plead. ‘Just let me go. I won’t tell the police where you’re heading.’

Yoongi’s grasp on the gun, still in his lap, tightens.

‘You’re a fucking idiot. Why the hell would you give a ride to a strange man you’ve just met?’

You don’t have a good answer to that.

‘You changed my tyre,’ you say. ‘I thought —‘

‘I slashed your tyre,’ he says, low, cold. ‘I was hanging around outside the diner, I saw you pull up, saw you were alone.’

His admission chills you.

Tears start to spill down your cheeks when you realise what a fool you were to trust him.

‘I just wanted to help you out,’ you tell him. ‘You seemed hungry and down on your luck, and you didn’t even have any warm c-c-clothes!’

You swipe at your cheeks furiously.

‘Didn’t have any warm clothes,’ Yoongi repeats, incredulous, scornful. ‘You’re some fucking good Samaritan.’

You’re crying quietly now, despairing over your naivety.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a good long while, and neither do you.

***

By the time you reach your destination, it’s snowing so hard you can barely see six feet in front of your car.

Snowy walls close in either side of you, buffeting you from the wind but heightening your sense of claustrophobia.

The clearing’s upon you before you quite realise it, and you end up stopping in front of a huge structure in the woods.

It’s more than a cabin, it looks like a proper house, from what you can make out, with a shed and a carport.

Yoongi reaches out and takes your car keys.

‘Wait until I come round to your side.’

He doesn’t point the gun at you, but you don’t need reminding.

He gets out, walks around to your side, pulls open the door, pushes you in front of him.

You try to take note of your surroundings, landmarks, but all you can see is snow.

Your boots clomp on the concrete as you approach the front door.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi rustling, glancing at his phone before he punches numbers into the keypad discreetly placed by the door.

He cups a hand over the keypad, you don’t see a thing.

He pulls you in as he enters, and you’re initially just grateful to be out of the snow.

Yoongi says, ‘Take your coat off.’

He makes a move as if to do it for you when you don’t react quickly enough, and you snap into action, pulling the snaps apart, unzipping hastily.

He takes your coat, tosses it carelessly to one side, grasps your wrist, tight.

You flinch as he tightens a cable tie around your wrist and attaches you to the steel flap of a radiator by the entrance hall of the house.

‘I can’t trust you not to try to run,’ he tells you. ‘I won’t hurt you, but I can’t afford for you to interfere with my plans, not now.’

You’re barely listening at this point.

The terror of the last few hours has drained most of your energy.

Yoongi stands over you for a few moments, as if to make sure you aren’t going to bolt, and then he heads further into the house.

***

Time passes, you’re disorientated by the darkness brought on by the storm outside and your own sense of disjointedness.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago since you loaded your things into your trunk and set off from home, and yet, it seems like forever.

Gradually, you become aware of the hardwood floor under your salopes. The entry hall you’re being held captive in gives you the impression that this is a nice house.

Whoever had this built has money.

The ceilings are high, the wood panelling rich and beautifully rendered.

The radiator beside you has started heating up, the steel flaps burning you whenever you let your hand move too close.

Your snow boots have made puddles on the hardwood.

Where the hell are you? Who owns this place? Why did Yoongi have the code for the door?

If he has friends this rich willing to let him use their house why the hell did he need you to drive him?

Your mind swirling with thoughts you can’t reconcile, you pull your knees into your chest and tuck your chin in, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

***

You wake to complete darkness and a searing pain in your hand where you’ve let it fall against the radiator.

It all comes back to you in a flash.

The diner. The state trooper. The house. Yoongi.

Your hand hurts, badly, but it’s too dark to see.

As you straighten your legs, your foot hits something that falls with a soft thud, then rolls.

A water bottle.

You’re suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.

You reach for the bottle, but maddeningly, it rolls out of your reach.

There are tears on your face but you’re not crying, not really.

Maybe you are.

***

When you next wake, the cold thin grey light filtering in through the windows tells you it’s morning, or early.

You look up to see your captor standing over you.

You look at each other wordlessly.

Yoongi crouches next to you.

‘Do you need the bathroom?’ he asks.

You nod.

He reaches down to detach you from the radiator.

Your hand.

You can see it clearly now, the blistered, reddened side of your palm, the thin line of blood where the cable tie’s cut into your wrist.

You say nothing. You don’t know if you can form any words.

You get up carefully, follow Yoongi down the hall to a small bathroom.

‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ Yoongi says.

You take care of business, trying not to sob at the pain in your burnt hand and wrist.

The window to the bathroom doesn’t open, and there’s nothing that you can use to break it.

There’s a knock at the door, you feel a surge of hysterical laughter threatening to come out.

He’s kidnapped you, locked you to a radiator, and he’s knocking because he cares about your privacy?

The door opens, and Yoongi comes in.

You stare at the scissors in his hand.

‘Your wrist,’ he says.

You watch, detached, as he cuts the cable tie. It falls to the floor, and you instinctively raise your hand to your chest to rub at your wrist.

Yoongi says. ‘I have food for you.’

He takes you down another hallway, to a huge kitchen full of windows. The early morning sun filters in, bright and blinding, adding more of a sense of unreality to the situation you now find yourself in.

Yoongi gestures to a seat at the kitchen island, sets a plate in front of you, like he’s made you breakfast.

You stare in disbelief at the food.

‘The car’s coming for me in two days, I’ll let you go then,’ Yoongi tells you, like you’re making plans together.

Like you’re just two people who know each other, discussing plans over breakfast, instead of captor and captive.

Now you’re staring at him.

‘You’ll let me go?’ you ask. Your voice comes out in a rasp, you have a vague recollection of trying to drink water but being unable to reach.

Yoongi winces a little, pours out a glass of water that you gulp down.

‘You should have told me you wanted water,’ he says.

‘You took my phone so I couldn’t text you,’ you say, the snark coming out of your mouth surprising you.

His brow lifts. ‘You don’t have my number anyway.’

‘Don’t need it,’ you snap, gulping down your refill. ‘We’re not going on a second date.’

Now it’s his turn to stare at you.

‘You’re not my type anyway,’ he snaps back. ‘Eat your food.’

For a moment you contemplate going on a hunger strike but you suspect he wouldn’t give a shit anyway so you examine your plate.

You fork up some eggs and chew cautiously.

They’re good. Better than you expected. Your stomach growls as you eat.

The food’s doing wonders for your energy levels.

‘Why are you running from the police?’ you ask. ‘What did you do?’

‘I was convicted of murder,’ he tells you, cold.

‘Did you do it?’ you ask, unimpressed.

‘I didn’t, as a matter of fact,’ he replies, flat.

‘Wait. Were you in prison?’

‘I escaped,’ he tells you. ‘With a little help from my friends.’

You mull this over as you finish the last of your eggs.

‘You have friends?’

Yoongi gives you a look that makes your chest tighten a little.

‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ he agrees.

He takes your plate, gathers up your cutlery, turns his back to put them in the sink.

‘Don’t even think about throwing your glass at me,’ he says, back still to you.

Your hand stills on the counter.

You change the subject.

‘This is a nice house. Do your friends know they’re harbouring a fugitive from the law?’

‘My friends have nothing to do with anything,’ Yoongi tells you, giving you a hard look.

He sets out a bandage and some ointment on the kitchen island in front of you.

‘Your hand,’ he prompts impatiently, when you don’t make a move to take them.

You’re about to reach for them when he sighs, unscrews the top of the tube, drops a dollop on your burnt palm.

You stifle a hiss of pain as he rubs the ointment in.

‘I’m sorry,’ Yoongi says quietly.

He’s close to you now, so close you catch a whiff of the freshness of his shampoo.

‘You should be sorry,’ you say. ‘I thought you were just some guy who was down on his luck who needed a break, and next thing you’re waving a gun in my face and threatening to kill me.’

You can feel the tears threatening to rise again, but you blink them back.

Yoongi’s touch is gentle on your sore hand.

‘I am sorry. Believe me, if there were any other way I would have taken it. I promise, I’ll let you go. I have no intention of hurting you.’

He says the words with conviction but you know you can’t believe anything he says.

Trusting him is what got you into this in the first place.

You let him bandage your hand.

‘Which radiator next?’ you ask, resigned.

‘I won’t tie you up again, but I’ll have to keep an eye on you,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘There’s a den we can sit in, if you want.’

You don’t see that you have any better options.

***

You start off in the furthest corner of the den from him, back to the wall, wary.

Yoongi ignores you completely as he turns on the TV, scrolls to the news.

You glance over the books on the bookshelf along one wall, but the TV catches your attention.

‘The search continues for Min Yoongi, the disgraced former rapper who was convicted of the murder of Han Jisung three years ago.’

Your gaze snaps to Yoongi, but he’s not looking at you, attention fully on the screen as an old media clip of him rapping plays.

‘The federal police are looking into several leads, and members of the public can contact the number onscreen if they have any information as to his whereabouts.’

The next story flashes up, and Yoongi sits back. You can see the tension leaving his body.

He catches the way you’re still gaping at him.

You blink, clear your throat.

‘So, you used to rap?’

Yoongi’s expression morphs into one of incredulity. ‘That’s your take-home from all that?’

You try again. ‘Too bad I don’t have my phone to call the number. Do you think there’s a reward?’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘I didn’t kill Han Jisung,’ he says.

He refuses to be drawn into any further discussion about it, and finally, you give up and pick up one of the books from the shelf.

***

Lunch is a sombre affair, sandwiches that you eat mechanically while looking at the grey outside.

The storm’s upon you, you doubt your snow tires would be up to the challenge even if you could get your car keys off Yoongi.

There’s no visibility at all, and if the wall of ice that’s forming around the glass of the floor to ceiling windows of the house wasn’t enough to deter you, the fact that you have no idea where your parka is certainly helps put you off.

You grew up in a mountainous area like this, and you’ve got a healthy respect for the weather conditions when it's like this.

You wonder how your sister’s doing, and your new nephew, if they’ve noticed you’re missing yet.

Maybe they think you’ve stopped to seek shelter and are waiting for the storm to pass before you continue on your journey.

You wonder if they’ve put your lack of communication down to a signal failure.

You wonder if anyone will notice you’re missing.

Your thoughts drift to Seokjin, the man you’ve recently had a few dates with.

He’s a good looking guy, outmatching you in looks if you’re being honest about what you think, but he seems to like the way you look, and to enjoy spending time with you.

You realise that Yoongi’s talking to you.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks, nodding to your half eaten sandwich.

‘I’m fine,’ you answer. You pull a face. ‘Well apart from being held captive against my will.’

Yoongi looks like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

‘Were you really going to see your sister?’ he asks. ‘Will she notice you’re missing?’

You eye him narrowly. ‘I don’t think anyone’s sending out a search party for me just yet, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Yoongi says, unexpectedly, ‘Why not? You’re pretty, you’d catch attention on the front page of the newspapers.’

You say, incredulously, ‘I bet dozens of women go missing every single day.’

‘They probably do,’ Yoongi agrees.

‘How did you get put in prison if you didn’t kill that guy?’ you ask, changing the subject. ‘I’m sure you could afford a good legal team.’

Yoongi takes a while to answer.

‘I was fucking Han Jisung’s fiancee.’

You raise a sceptical brow at him. ‘And?’

‘I think his half-brother set me up.’

You mull this over.

‘So what’s the plan? You escape from prison and leave the country?’

Yoongi shrugs, but his gaze is hard.

‘I stay on the run until I get enough evidence for a re-trial. Prove my innocence.’

‘Seems a long shot,’ you say, but you have no desire to piss him off, at least not while he’s got a gun in his possession.

‘I have influential friends who are willing to help,’ Yoongi says, simply.

You say nothing.

‘Do you know what it’s like to be put away for life for something you didn’t do?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly. ‘I’ve lost three years of my life to this, there’s no chance of parole for another 7 years.’

His voice rings with anger and frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say.

You have no idea if he’s telling you the truth, but you’re convinced of one thing. He believes it.

If he’s telling the truth, you can’t think of anything more awful.

‘Some say I brought this on myself,’ Yoongi says.

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t blame them. I was an asshole and a womaniser.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ you retort.

Yoongi looks at you, momentarily speechless with surprise.

Then he laughs.

‘Has no one ever taught you not to make fun of a man with a gun?’

You look at him seriously. ‘You promised you’d let me go in two days. Was that a lie?’

‘No,’ he answers. His eyes meet yours, gaze steady and unwavering. ‘I’ll keep my word.’

With him looking at you like this, you almost believe him.

***

Night’s falling, or so you think, it’s been dark all day but you get the sense that daylight’s fading fast.

Yoongi gets up, says, ‘Come on, I’m going to bed.’

‘You want a bedtime story?’ you ask, tetchy.

He just waits patiently by the entrance of the den for you to join him.

‘Any chance I could take a shower?’ you ask.

You’ve been in the same clothes for a day and a half, and you feel pretty grimy.

‘Sure,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘Need clothes?’

Yoongi takes you to what looks like a pretty impressive master bedroom, with an equally luxurious looking bathroom.

He rummages in a drawer, hands you a set of grey sweats.

He says, the faintest note of embarrassment in his voice, ‘There’s no women’s clothes here.’

You accept the clothes with a murmured ‘thanks.’

Yoongi says, ‘the door doesn’t lock, but I won’t walk in on you. The window’s too high to jump from.’

You eye him.

‘I have no interest in walking through this snowstorm without a coat.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Unless you want to give me the car keys?’

Yoongi chooses not to answer, steps back so you can close the bathroom door.

You get undressed quickly, step under a shower of water so hot it feels like heaven after you’ve been cold most of the day.

There’s toiletries that you avail yourself of, and by the time you get redressed, you feel practically human again, burnt hand and sore wrist notwithstanding.

You wrap a towel around your hair, step out to see Yoongi sitting on an armchair by the bed.

His gaze flicks over you once, his expression unreadable.

‘I don’t want to tie you to another radiator,’ he says.

You wait to hear where he’s going with this.

‘I’m going to lock the bedroom door. You can share the bed with me, or there’s that couch.’

‘I’ll take the couch,’ you say.

You get onto the couch, pull a blanket over your head, and you must be more tired that you thought, because you’re thinking of everything Yoongi’s told you, and then you’re not thinking of anything at all.

***

You wake in complete darkness, quiet save for your own breathing.

As your eyes adjust, you realise that the lump near the window is Yoongi.

He’s looking out, facing away from you.

‘What time is it?’ you ask.

Yoongi inhales, keeps looking out.

‘Sometime after midnight,’ he says. ‘Does it matter?’

You sit up, curl your legs under you.

His profile is strangely lovely, the slope of his brow, the high bridge of his nose, his jaw.

‘What are you going to do if you manage to prove your innocence?’ you ask.

It’s a clumsy question, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

‘I’d like to live near a beach,’ he says. ‘Make music. Be away from people for a bit.’

You guess there’s not a whole lot of privacy in prison.

‘I have a beach hut,’ you say. ‘We used to spend summers at the seaside. When my parents died, my sister and I inherited it.’

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi asks, turning towards you.

‘Yeah. We swam a lot. Explored caves. Did some rockpooling.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Yoongi says. ‘When I was a kid I spent summers trying to earn money.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I did a lot of gigs, trying to get exposure. I had my own crew though.’ He sounds wistful. ‘We busted our asses.’

He laughs. ‘When I signed my first record deal I got a house so my crew would always have a roof over their heads.’

‘No diamond encrusted chains?’ you tease.

‘Baby, that was after I got my first platinum record,’ he shoots back.

You laugh, and after a moment, he does too.

‘You got a job?’

You look up at the ceiling.

‘I teach,’ you tell him. ‘Grade school. I’ve got a class of seven year olds.’

‘You do have that whole teacher vibe,’ Yoongi remarks.

You’re amused.

‘What whole teacher vibe?’

‘You know. Responsible, prepared for everything. I mean, I saw the supplies in your trunk.’

You can’t argue.

‘You’re too soft,’ Yoongi continues. He’s still turned towards you. ‘You shouldn’t have offered me a ride.’

‘Like I said,’ you reply. ‘You looked like you needed help.’

He scoffs. ‘If I were your man I’d teach you to make any man regret even thinking about messing with you.’

‘I don’t need a man to teach me that,’ you say.

Yoongi shrugs, a rustle of his sweatshirt.

‘All I’m saying is you should work on looking less sweet and harmless.’

You toss a couch cushion in his direction.

‘I’ll show you how to crush a trachea tomorrow if you want,’ Yoongi volunteers.

‘Can I practise on you?’ you mutter, disgruntled.

Yoongi just laughs.

He turns back to the window.

It’s too dark to tell if the snow’s still falling but it doesn’t make a difference to you, because soon enough, you’re asleep again.

***

Yoongi’s quiet today, prepping breakfast with a distracted concentration that makes you wonder what’s on his mind.

You’re fixing coffee, looking for filters.

You pull open a drawer and freeze.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the way Yoongi’s back stiffens.

There’s a revolver in the drawer. The same gun Yoongi used on you that first day.

Yoongi turns around slowly, and your eyes lock.

He’s too far away to have any chance of getting to it before you.

Yoongi tilts his head.

‘It’s fully loaded,’ he says. ‘You cock the trigger to arm it. Point and shoot. It’s reliable. It doesn’t jam.’

You blink at him.

‘The car keys are in my pocket. The snow’s still a little crazy but if you wait a few hours it might settle. It’s safer to go tomorrow.’

Thoughts swirl in your head, too much for you to process.

Finally, you reach out, and close the drawer wordlessly.

‘You’ll let me go tomorrow?’ you ask, wondering if you’ve just made the most stupid decision of your life.

‘I’ll let you go tomorrow, I promise you. Even if my friend doesn’t come through.’

You can’t look at him.

You can hear him approaching, but instead of heading for the drawer, he heads for you.

‘Thank you,’ he says.

You look over.

His eyes are serious. ‘It’s been a while since anyone who didn’t know me before trusted me.’

‘Like you said, I’m dumb and soft,’ you reply. There’s a wobble in your voice that belies the snarky tone you were going for.

His hand lands on your shoulder. It’s gentle.

‘You’d be eaten alive where I come from,’ he agrees, when you look his way again. ‘But that’s never going to happen, if I have anything to do with it.’

He squeezes your shoulder, reassuring. ‘Forget the coffee. I’ll make it. Go and eat.’

***

The unfamiliar sound from overhead is making the wineglasses rattle.

You glance at Yoongi.

He’s quicker than you, mouth set in a straight line, heading for the window in the lounge.

‘What is it?’ you ask, but a moment later, you know.

It’s a chopper, flying directly overhead.

Yoongi turns to you.

‘If that’s the police, stay inside, hands up, away from the windows whilst I turn myself in.’

You’re staring at him, again feeling like you’re three steps behind.

‘It’s the way that it’s safest for you,’ he says, patient. ‘They’ll want you to come in for questioning once they take me in. Just tell the truth, don’t try to hide anything.’

Your throat feels like it’s filled with cotton, your heart’s pounding in your ears.

‘They won’t hurt you, will they?’

‘There are other ways to hurt a man than shooting him on sight,’ Yoongi replies. The bitterness is back in his voice again.

There’s a truth to his words you can’t deny.

Overhead, the noise intensifies, until finally, it starts fading away.

You don’t know if it’s just wishful thinking at first, but eventually it becomes clear that the chopper’s becoming more distant.

Yoongi hasn’t moved from his spot by the window.

‘They’re not here for you,’ you say, unnecessary, but the silence is so loaded you have to fill it with something, anything.

‘Not this time,’ Yoongi agrees.

***

Around mid-day, Yoongi switches on the news in the den.

You don’t have to wait long for an update.

‘The search for convicted murderer Min Yoongi intensifies. CCTV footage from a mountainside diner near east of Maisan suggests that he was aided in his journey by an unidentified female driving a 2004 Grand Cherokee Jeep.’

You watch, your heart in your stomach as grainy footage of Yoongi getting into your car is played.

The clip is less than 10 seconds, and your face is barely visible, but it’s definitely you.

The same information about how to get in touch with the police flashes up, but you’re beyond listening.

You get up shakily, rush to the bathroom, and throw up the partially digested remains of your breakfast.

By the time you emerge from the bathroom, Yoongi’s waiting outside.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. He’s holding out a glass of water that you accept automatically.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You take a big gulp, swipe at your face. ‘Am I in trouble, Yoongi?’

‘You’ll have to make a statement when you get to your sister’s,’ Yoongi tells you. ‘Tell them I forced you at gunpoint.’

You think of the gun you had the opportunity to take this morning.

‘I offered you a ride voluntarily,’ you say.

‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Yoongi says, harshly. He steps forward. ‘And they won’t give a fuck, either. This won’t affect me, I’m already a convicted murderer. But it’ll affect you if they think you helped me.’

He slams his open hand against the wall next to him, startling you.

‘You need to wise up. I don’t care if you throw me under the bus, and it won’t make a difference to the charges against me. But this could affect your future, so you need to do whatever it takes to make sure you come away clean from this.’

What he’s saying makes sense, but he doesn’t know you.

‘I promised them,’ you burst out.

Yoongi stops dead. ‘What?’

‘I was adopted, when I was eight,’ you say. The words are coming out in a rush now, garbled, and you’re not sure if you can make him understand but you need to say it all.

‘I promised my adoptive parents I’d never lie again. I was some dumb kid when they adopted me, I’d been in and out of foster homes. I’d developed a thing for taking things I wanted.’

Stealing, your inner voice says, accurately.

‘And when my parents adopted me, I promised them I’d never lie again.’

Yoongi’s staring at you now, incredulous.

‘I’ll tell the police the truth,’ you tell him. ‘But I’m not going to ‘throw you under the bus’.’

Yoongi lets out a long breath. ‘Fucking hell.’

He shakes his head. ‘I wish I’d never got in your car.’

You kind of wish the same thing.

***

Yoongi’s cracked open a couple of beers with your dinner.

‘Be careful when you’re crossing the stream tomorrow – the bridge is hard to see at the best of times, and I don’t think the snow’s made it any easier.’

‘Yes, dad,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

You’d listened the first time he said it, but he’s repeated himself a few times now.

He’s acting like he’s more worried about you getting to your sister safely than himself evading the entire manhunt that’s looking for him.

‘I did survive an entire adulthood without you, you know,’ you say, teasing.

He ignores you.

‘There’s an SOS box two miles west when you get to the main road —’

‘Yes, I know how that works,’ you say, cutting him off.

‘And if any man sends you dick pics you should block him right off the bat,’ Yoongi finishes.

You stop, processing his words, then realise he’s joking.

Your laughter makes the frown line between his brows disappear.

‘And you don’t owe any man anything even if he makes you come,’ Yoongi continues.

You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Should I be writing this wisdom down?’

Yoongi frowns. ‘I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.’

‘Show me how to crush a trachea,’ you suggest.

Yoongi swigs his beer.

‘Yeah, good idea.’

He gets up, pushes his sleeves back.

You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his upper arm.

‘If any asshole tries anything with you, you should go for all his weak spots.’

He points to his own neck, the hollow between his collarbones. ‘Jab them right here, elbow up into his nose, knee into his balls. Then, fucking run.’

He holds out his hands. ‘Come on, try me.’

You look at him uncertainly. ‘You want me to hit you?’

Yoongi says, patient, ‘Hit me now so when you hit the next asshole you’ll know how to do it right.’

‘Who are all these assholes that I’m meeting?’ you ask, but you comply anyway.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as you jab your fingers into his neck.

‘Harder,’ he says, grabbing your hand.

‘I don’t want to hurt you —’

‘Hit me as hard as I shoved that gun into your ribs,’ Yoongi says.

The memory makes you wince, and you redouble your efforts with the next jab.

When he coughs and splutters, you jerk your elbow up, straight into his nose.

He’s doubled over now, but there’s one last move he’s asked you to do.

You knee him in the balls, and he grabs your thigh at the last second so hold off the blow.

You wrench his hand off and take two steps back.

‘Fuck,’ Yoongi swears.

He folds over onto the kitchen floor, still coughing, eyes watering.

‘You’re supposed to run now,’ he wheezes out.

‘Do you — do you want some water or something?’ you offer.

He shakes his head. ‘I think you’re good. You’re pretty damn quick.’

‘Sorr—’

Yoongi fixes you with a glare. ‘Don’t even think about apologising,’ he scolds. ‘You fuck the asshole up, and then you run. You did it perfectly.’

‘Can I practice it again?’ you ask, sweetly.

Yoongi says, ‘Yeah —’

It takes him a moment to realise you’re joking.

***

Yoongi steps out of the shower, fully dressed, his hair still wet, making little trails of wet course down the neck of his sweatshirt.

You’re already on the couch, covered in a fluffy duvet.

‘You can take the bed if you want,’ he offers. ‘I’ll take the couch.’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, towel drying his hair.

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he asks, voice dry, ‘Something on my face?’

‘Nothing,’ you answer, startled. ‘You look good clean.’

His laughter is deep, gravelly. ‘I’d have taken a shower earlier if I’d known you preferred me clean.’

‘You should get clean for yourself,’ you answer, primly, but your lips are curving in a smile anyway.

‘Your hair looks pretty like this,’ he says.

You tug at a lock of hair, self-conscious.

‘I’m surprised you’re not better at handling compliments,’ Yoongi continues. He’s looking at you now, teasing in his voice. ‘Given how pretty you are.’

You bury your face in your duvet.

‘Stop teasing me,’ you say, muffled.

He seems to hear you just fine.

‘I’m not teasing,’ he says. ‘I’m just telling you what I think.’

‘Just turn the lights off,’ you grumble.

Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re not the first woman to tell me to shut up, to be fair.’

He gets up, turns the lights out.

***

You wake in the middle of the night to Yoongi groaning, tossing and turning in bed.

‘Yoongi?’ you call, sitting up to look at him.

He doesn’t answer, but his groaning intensifies.

You get up and pad across the room to him.

He’s drenched in sweat, thrashing in the sheets, holding out his hands.

He’s having a nightmare.

‘Hey,’ you say, grasping his hand.

He sits up abruptly, looking around in the dark, bewildered, disoriented.

You don’t have to think about it.

You pull him in a hug, wrapping your arms tight around him. ‘You’re fine. It was a nightmare.’

You don’t think he’s really listening, but he holds you back.

His heart’s thumping so hard you can feel it under your arm.

‘You’re fine,’ you tell him again.

Eventually his grip loosens, and he pulls back a little.

‘That was some bad dream,’ you say, breathless from how tightly he’s been holding you.

He doesn’t answer, and you realise he’s staring at your lips.

His kiss takes you by surprise, but you don’t pull away.

His lips are soft and warm. When he licks into your mouth you can’t help the whine that falls from your lips.

Your hand fists in the material of his sweatshirt as he kisses you again and again, pulling you into a haze of pleasure so deep it takes you a moment to realise he’s stopped, his hand on your side, on your bare skin, under your top.

He says your name.

‘Do you want this?’ he asks. ‘We don’t have to do this if it’s not what you want.’

‘This?’ you ask. ‘You mean us kissing like this?’

You run your hand along his chest, stopping when you get to the waistband of his sweats.

‘You mean touching each other like this?’

Your hand delves lower, and he lets out a low groan as you wrap your fingers around his hardness.

‘Like this?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,’ Yoongi says, his hand closing over yours.

‘I want to do this with you,’ you tell him.

He groans again, pulls you fully onto the bed, helps you tug your sweatshirt over your head.

His warm hands slide up from your waist, making slow passes over your sides, and by the time he cups your breasts, your nipples are fully hard.

‘Don’t tease, Yoongi,’ you say, trying not to moan as he rolls a nipple under his thumb.

‘Not teasing,’ he says, voice low, thick. ‘I just — fuck, you’re so pretty–’

He dips his head, and at the first flick of his tongue against the tip of your breast, you moan.

‘Yoongi,’ you plead.

‘I’ve got it,’ he tells you, lifting off your breast. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi mouths at your breasts until your hips are writhing under him.

‘Please, please,’ you plead.

He tugs at your sweatpants, and when you raise your hips to help him get them off, he leans down and presses a warm kiss to the bare skin over your hipbone.

‘Wanna taste you,’ he tells you.

He pushes your thighs apart, stops with his face over your core for a split second, breathing you in.

Then he kisses you, open-mouthed, tongue delving into your cunt like he’s starving for you.

Your moan changes into a cry of pleasure as he licks at you, nose nudging your clit.

You reach out for something to grab, fisting the sheets, and Yoongi’s hand grips the flesh of your thigh, firm.

‘Shit,’ he says, ‘ you’re so wet you’re gonna make me come.’

The idea of him coming before he gets inside you could make you cry.

‘Get inside, Yoongi,’ you moan.

‘Not gonna last, not with you like this,’ Yoongi tells you. He strokes between your legs, presses his thumb in firm strokes over your clit, licks into your cunt again, and you cry his name as you come.

‘Fuck, that’s my good girl,’ Yoongi grunts. ‘Can you take me now?’

He slides his cock into you, hard, thick, whilst you’re still pulsing from your orgasm, and you keen with the pleasure of it.

He’s breathless, head thrown back, eyes shut as he moves, fucking you deep.

You kiss along his bared throat, and he swears. ‘Fuck, baby, stop – I can’t —’

He pulls out suddenly, and a moment later you feel the warmth of his cum spurting on your belly.

‘C’mere,’ he says, pulling you close, kissing you deep. ‘Stay.’

***

You wait on the porch whilst Yoongi drives your car out of the carport. He pulls up in front of the porch, gets out.

‘Remember what you have to do?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

You’ve talked about it so much you don’t think you can bear to go over it again.

‘Drive safe, ok?’ Yoongi says. He’s looking at you, intently. ‘And thank you, for everything.’

‘Good luck with being exonerated,’ you say.

It sounds stupid, you sound stupid, but you don’t know what else to say.

Yoongi walks you over to your car, waits until your seatbelt’s buckled.

‘I’ll see you, Yoongi,’ you say.

‘Take this,’ he says.

You look at the phone number he’s got scribbled down on a scrap of paper.

‘It’s a burner phone. I can’t check it all the time but do you think you could —’

He breaks off mid-sentence, then pushes on. ‘Do you think you could text me when you get to your sister’s? I just want to know you’re safe.’

‘Sure,’ you say. You slide the scrap of paper into the pocket of your salopes, zip it up.

‘Good,’ Yoongi says.

You reach out, tug the collar of his parka.

His kiss is as good a way to say goodbye as any, you think.

Yoongi closes the door, waits on the porch as you drive away.

He gets smaller and smaller in the distance, and eventually, you can’t see him at all.

***

It’s been nearly a month since you left Yoongi at the house.

You’d pulled up at your sister’s house to find out she’d just filed a missing persons report on you.

You’d had an emotional reunion with your sister, an equally emotional introduction to your new baby nephew, and one meal and one hot shower later, you’d found yourself at the police station, being questioned by a couple of detectives who’d regarded you with suspicion so strong it was a short step from open accusation.

You’d been questioned for hours but had eventually been allowed home. You’d been truthful, as you’d told Yoongi you would be, apart from one thing.

It was only later, when you were on your bed in your sister’s spare room, that you’d picked up your phone and scrolled to the name you’d saved Yoongi’s number under.

You’d typed out a text, two words, unincriminating, you’d thought.

I’m safe.

The next morning, there was a text back, similar to yours in brevity.

I’m glad.

You’d refrained from texting again, or calling, not wishing to put Yoongi at risk in case anyone looked into your phone records.

You’d been called in again for questioning on two separate occasions after the initial interview, once by people who’d introduced themselves as federal agents.

You’d thought that was the end of it until the media got hold of your identity.

There was a week or so of reporters stopping you outside your house, waiting for you in the school car park, until eventually something more newsworthy came along.

You’d been photographed more times in that week than you’d even been in your life.

You’ve taken to watching the evening news every night, but as time stretches on and Min Yoongi hasn’t been found, he’s been dropping down the list of top stories, barely scraping a mention.

You’re glad.

You hope he’s closer to getting what he wished for.

***

‘Y/N,’ says Bora, your head of department. ‘Mr Lee wants to see you.’

You look up from your grading, a little surprised. ‘Did he say what it was about?’

‘Nope, just that he’s free now.’

You pocket your phone, straighten your ID badge and get up.

Mr Lee is the school principal, and you’d organised a meeting with him when the media frenzy over your involvement with Min Yoongi was at its peak, but you’ve not seen him since.

Mrs Choi, his PA, waves you in.

‘Mr Lee,’ you say in greeting. ‘Did you want to see me?’

‘Yes, please come in and have a seat,’ Mr Lee says.

He’s a serious man in his mid forties, and as far as principals go, you know he’s got a good reputation.

‘There’s been a complaint put in about you,’ Mr Lee says, sparing you any preamble.

Your stomach drops.

‘What about?’ you ask.

‘I know the media furore has died off over Min Yoongi, but the PTA has fielded a number of concerns raised by worried parents over your involvement in the case.’

You’re taken aback. ‘A number of concerns? It’s not just one —’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Mr Lee, and to his credit, he does seem genuinely upset. ‘I’m going to have to ask if you can take a few weeks off.’

‘Off?’ you ask, worried.

‘It’s not a suspension,’ Mr Lee says, somehow giving the impression that a suspension is exactly what it is. ‘You’ll be paid, and at the end of four weeks we’ll meet again to discuss what your future is at this school.’

You’re trying to make sense of this. ‘My future at this school?’

Mr Lee gets up, moves to take the seat next to you. ‘I’m hoping that having you off teaching for a month will give enough time for these parents to realise that you’re not a bad influence on their kids.’

‘And if they don’t?’ you ask.

‘I’m hoping they will.’

You swallow, and to your horror, tears prick the back of your eyelids.

You blink them back.

‘Should I look for another job, Mr Lee?’

‘It doesn’t hurt to keep your options open,’ Mr Lee says gently.

You suppose that’s that.

***

You wake to a dozen missed calls and texts from your sister.

You blink blearily at your phone and swipe to answer.

‘Yeah?’ you grunt. ‘Is everything ok?’

‘It’s Min Yoongi,’ your sister says. ‘He’s all over the news.’

You sit up abruptly. ‘Is he ok?’

Your sister, who’s heard all about your time with Yoongi, barring the details of your one-night stand, laughs.

‘He’s more than ok. Get online, sis. There’s a press statement you might want to watch.’

You’re still a little drowsy, but by the time you’ve got your laptop open and made yourself coffee, you’re wide awake.

Your phone rings again whilst you’re reading about how new evidence and a new witness was brought forward, resulting in a swift retrial.

Distractedly, you swipe to answer.

His voice makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s gravelly, low, with the distinct mix of sardonic and soft that brings you back to the house in the woods, over a month ago now.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘How’re you keeping?’

You close your eyes, suck in a breath.

‘Jeez, you telemarketers are getting a little personal, aren’t you?’ you ask.

His laughter makes you feel warm inside.

‘I just wondered if you wanted to go get dinner with me sometime.’

‘Depends,’ you answer. ‘Are we going to have to avoid the police?’

‘Always,’ he says, making you smile. ‘But I’m a free man now, I guess you haven’t heard.’

‘Your friends came through, huh?’

‘All of them,’ he says, the warmth in his voice palpable even through the line. ‘Including you.’

***

You’re a little nervous as you wait for Yoongi at the restaurant he picked. It’s a little out of the way for you, but at least it’s not snowing.

He’s dressed in black, a cashmere sweater that sets off the glow in his skin, his hair styled back.

The rings in his fingers, the earrings in his ears gleam in the golden light.

He’s so beautiful you can’t quite believe he’s real.

Yet it’s him who stops in front of you, gaze flickering over you with a flattering intensity.

‘How can you be even prettier than I remember?’ he asks, tilting his head.

‘Guess you have a bad memory,’ you say. You’re smiling so hard your cheeks are hurting, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

‘I’ve thought about you a lot,’ he says.

‘Yeah?’

Yoongi pulls out your chair for you.

‘Yeah. I saw the footage of those reporters hounding you.’

‘They got bored after a while,’ you tell him.

‘I’m glad you’re all right,’ Yoongi says.

Over dinner he tells you about how the retrial resulted in all charges against him being overturned, how he’s been back home resting.

‘Been to the beach yet?’ you ask.

Yoongi looks at you over his wine glass. ‘You inviting me? You’re the one with a beach hut.’

‘We can go,’ you say. ‘I’ve been informally suspended from my job.’

This is news to him.

‘Is it to do with me?’ he asks quietly.

You shrug. ‘I’m hoping it’ll die down, especially since everyone knows you’re an innocent man now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you tell him.

He frowns a little, but lets the subject slide.

After dinner he walks you to your car.

‘Can I take you out again?’ he asks.

‘I’d like that,’ you tell him.

He leans close, brushes a kiss against your cheek that sends a thrill all the way to your toes.

‘I live about a half hour drive from here,’ you tell him, when he pulls away.

‘Maybe I can drive us this time,’ he says.

***

Yoongi slips his hand into yours as he walks up the front driveway to your house with you. You look over at him in surprise.

‘What?’ he teases. ‘Don’t you want to hold my hand?’

You stick your key in the lock, push open your front door.

‘Baby, I want to hold more than that,’ you tell him.

Yoongi’s eyes darken, and he lets you push him against the door.

He’s already leaning down, lips seeking yours. He kisses you hungrily, his large hand slipping behind your neck to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth.

‘I’ve fucking missed you,’ he murmurs. ‘Shit, I’m so hard it’s embarrassing.’

‘Been deprived, huh?’ you tease, breathlessly.

‘Nah. Just you.’

He kisses a fiery path down your neck, into the hollow between your collarbones.

His hands slide down into the small of your back, cup your ass to pull you against him.

You can feel the ridge of his cock against your belly, and you roll your hips, trying to get closer.

‘Pull these down,’ Yoongi says, thumb looped in the band of your lacy panties.

They’re stuck to you, the wetness between your legs trails a path down your bare thighs that Yoongi’s only too happy to lick off.

‘I wanted to wait,’ he tells you, lifting the skirt of your dress, unzipping his trousers.

‘Wait next time,’ you tell him. ‘Want you now.’

‘You’ve got me,’ he tells you.

There’s the rustle of foil, the snick of elastic, then Yoongi’s parting your legs, sliding inside you with a groan deep in his chest.

Just like before, he fills you perfectly.

Yoongi kisses you again, slow though you can feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

‘Feels so good, every time,’ he tells you.

He starts to move then, doesn’t stop when you part your thighs to take him deeper, doesn’t stop when you cross your ankles behind his back and cry his name, doesn’t stop until you’re panting, sticky with your release, clutching him tight.

It’s only then that his thrusts start to become erratic, speeding up then slowing as he reaches his peak. He comes with a shout of your name, buried deep inside you, hips still moving like he, too, can’t get enough.

***

When you wake in the morning, it’s with Yoongi’s finger tracing a lazy path down your spine, his fingertip warm on your bare skin.

‘More, Yoongi?’ you ask, sleepy.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, you can hear the rumble in his chest as he suppresses a laugh.

‘Tapping out on me so soon, my love?’ he asks.

After the first time when you hadn’t made it to your bed, you’d fucked three more times before you’d finally collapsed in a tangled heap.

You’d woken once, to see him flat on his back, looking out the window, fingers intertwined with yours.

‘Can’t sleep?’ you’d asked.

He’d turned to you, pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘Just thinking how lucky I am. I’d thought being wrongly imprisoned was the worst thing that had happened to me. And here I am.’

‘Here you are, you lucky sonofabitch,’ you’d laughed, squealing as he’d pinned your hands to the bed and half-heartedly climbed on top of you again.

‘I am lucky,’ he’d said, his free hand sliding under your ass, squeezing. You’d have fucked him again if he’d wanted, despite the soreness between your legs, but he’d wrapped you in his arms instead. ‘Sleep, baby.’

So you had.

Now your phone rings, distracting you from Yoongi’s wandering hands, just about.

‘Shit, it’s Mr Lee,’ you say, sitting up straight.

Yoongi cocks a brow at you as you take the call.

‘Y/N, I wanted to let you know that the school board have voted to have you back taking your regular classes, at your earliest convenience. If you’ll have us.’

You frown. ‘I hadn’t realised there was a vote?’

‘An emergency meeting was convened last night,’ Mr Lee says. ‘You don’t have to let me know now, but we’d love to have you back.’

You hang up, thoroughly confused.

‘I guess I’m not informally suspended any more,’ you tell Yoongi.

‘For a new gym with a fully functional basketball court, and a grant for gym equipment, they’d better be giving you a raise too,’ drawls Yoongi.

‘You did this?’

‘What? You thought I was some deadbeat who held you at gunpoint and wasn’t going to repay everything you did for me?’

‘I never thought you were a deadbeat,’ you say.

‘I know,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re an idiot.’

You swat at him, outraged.

‘You’re my idiot,’ Yoongi says, deflecting your blows easily. ‘And I’m going to make sure no one takes advantage of you ever again.’

He hesitates. ‘If — if you’ll have me.’

You pretend to think about it. ‘Well, you’re not perfect,’ you say, ‘but I guess you’ll do.’

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi x reader #bts fic #yoongi fanfic

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pinksturniolo · 26 days

Text

Robbers - A Chris Sturniolo One Shot (AU)

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Chris Sturniolo is a part of The Disciples, one of the most notorious Portuguese gangs in Boston. For the past year and a half, you’ve witnessed him take part in the most dangerous crimes. But what happens when one day, you're forced to participate with him? You know it’s extremely toxic and goes against all your morals. Despite that, you just can’t help the way you love him, the way you would do anything for him. Even rob a gas station.

Content Warnings: smut, raw penetration, fingering, oral, themes of criminal activity and violence, mentions of shooting, guns, and blood. descriptions of gunshot wounds, gun play, drugs and drug use, smoking, use of alcohol, murder, robbery, toxic relationship

a/n: I do not condone any actions in this story or promote gun violence. I do not intend in any way shape or form to offend anyone. This is one is a little dark and has a lot of mature themes as well as a gun kink, which can be uncomfortable for people. Please only read what you can handle. <3

word count: 6,452 (!!!!) ik it's long but pls read it all, i spent a lot of time on this one.

Watch this music video before reading, just trust me: The 1975 - Robbers (Official Video) (Explicit) (youtube.com)

Fall 2025

You drop your cigarette to the ground, your sneaker snuffing out the cherry as you crush it against the wet concrete. There’s a light drizzle tonight, temperatures dipping as early September arrives in the city of Boston.

You sigh, leaning your head against the brick wall and tucking your hands into the hoodie of your pocket. What’s taking him so long?

Your boyfriend had been inside the house for 30 minutes now and it was making you nervous. Each time you went with him to these types of jobs, you were scared. You would never let him see that, but you were always worried something bad was going to happen.

Granted, he knew how to take care of himself perfectly fine, but it was the other people he was meeting up with you didn’t trust. You were constantly on edge every time you would wait for him, anxious whether he would come back to you alive.

He didn’t like the idea of you coming along with him at first, but when you convinced him it didn’t make a difference whether you stayed home and waited for him or if you came along, he eventually gave in, making you take a gun with you just in case you needed to use it.

He had taken his time to teach you how to hold and shoot it properly, making sure you wouldn’t fuck up and accidentally shoot yourself. He taught you a lot of things, like how to throw a good punch without breaking your hand, how to roll a blunt the right way, how to steal from the liquor store without getting caught.

You met Chris almost a year and a half ago now, at a mansion party one of your friends had dragged you to one night. She begged you to go, saying her friend Jonah there knew a guy, who knew a guy, that knew this one guy that had the best weed in the city.

She failed to mention this guy was a member of The Disciples. His name was Chris Sturniolo and he was known to beat up anyone who crossed him. You had heard rumors before about him, he sold a lot of drugs, and he didn’t fuck around when it came to his money.

So naturally, you were a little intimidated when you were introduced, sitting next to him on the large plush white couch. His friends sat around him, smoking and talking amongst themselves, and you noticed the looks they gave you and your friend. You definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hi, I’m Layla, my friend Jonah said you could get me some K2.” Your friend said, like she had done this a thousand times before.

“What’s up Layla. Who’s your friend?” Chris asked, looking straight to you.

You fought the urge to shrink into the couch, his piercing gaze burning into you. His long hair stuck out from his beanie, smoke filtering through his nose as he inhaled the joint he was puffing on.

“Uh, this is Y/N.” She replies, looking at you hesitantly. “She’s a little shy.”

You smiled awkwardly, the look in his eyes still making you squirm in your seat.

“You look too good to be here, mama.” he says, grabbing a baggie from his pocket, handing it to Layla. She takes it, getting the money from her pocket to give in return but he simply shakes his head. “Keep it.”

She looks shocked, looking at you again and you shrug, unsure why this drug dealer is giving you both a free pass. His eyes haven’t left you, looking you up and down without shame. You feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes but the longer you make eye contact with him, you don’t feel uncomfortable. You feel curious, like there’s a magnetic pull in between you two.

“Want a taste?” he asks, motioning with his head for you to come closer, holding out the joint for you to try.

You hesitate for a few seconds before you scoot closer to him on the couch, your thigh now brushing his. He smirks and holds the joint close to your mouth as you close the gap, leaning forward a little to wrap your lips around it, slightly touching his fingertips.

You take a small hit, inhaling the smoke into your lungs as you lean back into place, his eyes on your mouth as you exhale.

Your friend Laya feels the obvious tension that’s now in the room, watching the interaction between you two. “I’m gonna go find Jonah.” She says to you, and you simply nod, never breaking eye contact with Chris.

The loud music of the party vibrates through the room, making it hard to hear but you don’t need to exchange words to know what you both are thinking. He takes another hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans even closer to you, placing a hand on your jaw, silently telling you to open your mouth. When you do, he hovers his lips over yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you inhale, holding it for a few seconds until you blow it out.

He then moves his head down, placing a single soft kiss on your neck, directly under your jaw and whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Needless to say, you’ve been attached to each other since that night, a whirlwind romance from the start.

Chris finally comes around the side of the house, backpack around his shoulder. You sigh in relief, and he smiles when he sees you, putting an arm around your waist as you walk next to him towards the car. “Worried about me, baby?” He teases, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Always.” You reply and he closes the door, walking around to get into the driver’s seat, throwing the bag in the back. He takes off, one hand on the steering wheel and the other rests on your thigh. You can’t help but notice something a little off about him though. He’s not very talkative like he usually is, and his hand grips the wheel a little too hard, his body tense.

“Chris, what happened in there? Why did it take so long?” You ask, looking at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. And what you see makes your stomach turn because you see an emotion across his face that you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

He licks his lips nervously, looking back to the road. He knows that you noticed. “We’ll talk once we get back to the house, okay?” he replied, giving a reassuring squeeze on your thigh.

You were only about 10 or 15 minutes away, but you had a strong feeling that something was really wrong. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me now.” You demand. He looks at you, not liking the tone of your voice. “Please.” You add a little softer and he sighs, knowing that you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“The deal went fine. Jason seemed to be satisfied with the profit from last month. But he wants me to do a job next weekend…” He starts, looking more nervous by the minute.

“Okay? What job?” You pry, not understanding what was wrong. Jason is Chris’s “boss” and usually gives the orders on what to do. He also supplies Chris with all the drugs he needs to sell, cutting him in on half the earnings. Which is considered generous in his line of work. As long as Chris does whatever he asks.

“He wants me to hit a gas station. The one on the corner of South Street. But it’s not just any old gas station. It’s a front for a drug spot and they’re stealing a lot of our customers. So, I gotta bust it. But Jason doesn’t want anyone dead, he’s gonna have some of his guys go in after I’m done and take them to the warehouse. I just gotta get away with the cash and drugs.” He explains.

“By yourself? What about Tommy?” You ask. Tommy was one of Chris’s partners and usually went on jobs like these with him.

Chris stays silent for a few minutes, his eyes focused on the road. He makes a left turn, both hands on the wheel now. The streetlights passing cast a yellow tinted light into the car, and you can see whatever internal struggle is going through his head right now on his face.

“Chris?” You say quietly, leaning forward to try and get him to look at you.

He doesn’t though, his jaw clenching and hands tightening on the wheel.

“Not by myself… He wants me to bring you.” he finally says quietly.

You’re unsure of what to say, not really processing what he’s telling you.

“What do you mean? Bring me with you to the job? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” You ask, utterly confused about what’s going on.

“I mean he wants you to do the job with me. Be my partner.” He replies, now pulling into the driveway of his house and putting the car in park. Now he turns to fully face you and his expression is a mix of anger and regret.

“Ever since you started tagging along with me, Jason hasn’t liked it. He says this work is no place for a woman. I really don’t give a fuck about what he says, I never have. I’m not stupid, I know I’m risking a lot by even having you around someone like me. But I told you from the start, I will always protect you. Nothing and no one is gonna lay a fucking finger on you.” He says, his hand coming up to stroke your face.

You grab his wrist, holding his hand there. “Hold on- he wants me to help you rob the gas station?” You ask, your heart racing as you now understand what Chris means. You knew Jason never liked you, you got a dark vibe from him the few times you had been around him. In fact, you don’t think he liked anybody. Chris told you many stories of how ruthless he could be.

“Baby, you’re not doing anything he says okay? I’ll take care of it.” He said, the tone in his voice making it clear he doesn’t want to discuss this any further.

Before you can question him more, he gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out and closing it behind you as you both walk into the house and upstairs to his room.

He takes off his hoodie and shirt, and turns on the shower, letting the water run so it can warm up.

“Chris… If I don’t go with you, who’s going to?” You ask, the gears turning in your head.

He shakes his head, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “No one.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, still not grasping the big picture here. “You can’t go by yourself. That would be too dangerous.” You speak.

“Y/N, please stop. We’re not talking about this anymore, okay? I’ve told you enough already.” He replies shortly, taking off his jewelry and setting it on the bedside table.

“Just answer me one thing.” You continue, determined to get the full story. “What happens if you go against what Jason says and do the job by yourself?”

Chris doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you. You know that you probably pissed him off now by pressing him for answers, but you didn’t care. You deserved to know the full situation. If he was in danger, you needed to know.

A few minutes go by, steam starting to fill the room from the shower. He simply sits at the edge of the bed with his back to you, running a hand through his hair.

“Chris. What are you not telling me?” You say, your voice slightly rising and there’s a hint of desperation as the pit in your stomach grows. There was something completely off here.

“Fuck.” You hear him silently curse before he finally tells you. “If I don’t make you do the job with me, I’m dead. It’s his sick fucking way of showing his power over me. He knows that I won’t put you in danger. So, he’s using my life as leverage.” His head is now turned slightly towards you, staring at the spot on the bed next to you. He’s afraid to look you in the eyes.

You’re speechless as he gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes, and you feel sick to your stomach. It seems you’re now faced with an impossible choice.

Either risk your life and freedom to commit armed robbery or have Chris murdered by his sadistic gang boss.

When Chris finally comes out of the bathroom, you’ve created a lake of tears on your pillow from crying so hard. You’re extremely upset with him for dropping that bomb on you and just leaving you there in shock. But honestly, you probably would’ve just argued with him till your lungs gave out and maybe it was a good thing he left you alone to process.

You know Chris too well to know that he’s made his mind up about the deal Jason has given him. He’s going to give up his life just so you don’t have to risk yours. But you’ve just as equally made up your mind as well. There’s no fucking way you’re letting Chris go by himself on that job.

“Baby… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He says, getting in bed next to you. You’re faced away from him and he lays close to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I know thisis fucking crazy, okay? But I couldn’t keep it from you. Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be- “You cut him off, turning around abruptly to look at him.

“I’m going on that job with you. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.” You interrupt. His face is soft, obviously not taking you seriously and he brushes your hair back, letting his hand trail down to rest on your shoulder.

“Just get some rest, Y/N. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” he replies.

“No Chris, I’m serious. You’ve taught me how to take care of myself, right? And we have until next week, we can plan- “You start but he shakes his head, placing his hand back on your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing across your lips, stopping you from continuing.

“No. I don’t want you getting into this. This is not up for debate. This is dangerous now.” He says sternly.

You grab his hand from your face, a little roughly, now placing a hand on his neck, looking deeply in his eyes. “Do you really think I give a fuck about how dangerous this is? Chris, I’ve been by your side through a lot of shit. If we can just get through this job and do what Jason says, we’ll be fine. No one is dying, okay? I love you and you’re going to let me help you. And that’s the end of the discussion.” You tell him, a flicker of emotions crossing his face as you speak.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wraps his arms around you, pulling him into you and you lay your head on his chest while you both drift off to sleep.

✰

It takes a few days for Chris to accept the fact you’ll be going on the job with him. He’s a little distant from you at first, angry with you for what you’ve decided but mostly just afraid of what will happen. Since he’s met you, he’s wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. He knows his lifestyle is not good for you, not good for anyone. And now that it’s come to this point of putting you directly in the line of danger, he’s scared shitless. And he wants to kill Jason for putting both of you in this position.

But he goes over the plan with you, making sure you know every step.

Tommy will drop off both of you across the street from the store, and once you get inside, you’ll only have 30 minutes to get in and out. You’ll hold the cashier at gunpoint while Chris goes in the back office where the drugs and money is supposed to be stashed.

There will probably be another guy back there, but he’ll take care of him. As soon as Chris is done, a couple of Jason’s men will come in and finish the job, taking the rivals to him, and you both can leave with Tommy. The gas station is only a few miles from the Disciples’ warehouse, so once you get there you can drop off the goodies and be done.

Easy, right?

Chris goes over the steps again at least a dozen times on the day before the job. You start to get irritated, and he notices, giving you a hard look as your eyes glaze over when he’s talking. “Y/N. Pay attention, please.” He says, as he unloads the bullets from his .45, taking it apart to clean it.

You roll your eyes and rest your chin in your hands from where you sit on the bed. “Chris, I know the plan already. Can we talk about something else now?” You whine, watching him as he puts the gun back together.

He smirks at the tone in your voice. “Just making sure, baby.” he replies.

You can’t help but stare at him as he puts the parts of the gun back together, his arms flexing with his movements, veins in his hands popping out. A pair of black sweatpants hangs lowly on his hips, his shirt is off, and his hair is messy from the nap you took together earlier.

Also, the little pink pill you popped with Chris about 20 minutes ago is starting to take effect as you feel a slight floating sensation in your body, your heart rate picking up just a little. The air around you becomes intensified and Chris looks over at you, noticing your longing stare.

“You good?” He asks, eyes travelling down your body to your bare legs hanging off the edge of his bed. The only thing you have on is an old t-shirt of his and your black panties.

“Mhm.” You nod, staring at the gun in his hands.

There was just something so hot about him holding it like that.

He walks over, now standing in front of you, and places a finger under your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your eyes are glossy and low, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, admiring how pretty you look like this.

“You high baby?” He says lowly, and you reply with a nod of your head as he holds one side of your face in his hand, bringing the gun up to lightly stroke over the other side.

This causes a chill to run down your spine, wetness immediately pooling in your underwear. You’re not scared. You trust Chris completely, even if it was loaded.

He then lets it trail down further slowly, over your neck and between your breasts, dipping down your stomach to in between your thighs where he teasingly rubs it over your panties, bumping against your clit.

You sigh into his hand that’s gripping your jaw and his thumb slips into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him, looking up into his eyes. His pupils are blown out, watching you get pleasure from his weapon between your legs.

You know its crazy but the sexual energy behind it turns you on more than anything.

He removes it suddenly, placing it on the bed and before you can whine in protest, he climbs on the mattress behind you, instructing you to scoot back so he rests against the pillows, and you sit in between his legs. There’s a large mirror in front of the bed and you lean back against his chest and watch while he trails his hands down your arms, and then your hips, resting on top of your thighs and squeezing.

Your head falls back as he places his lips on your neck, kissing softly and sucking at the skin there, leaving his mark on you. He massages your inner thighs, thumbs brushing close to where you need him the most.

“Don’t tease me.” You breathe, gripping his knee, one hand going up behind you to tug on his hair.

“What do you need, baby?” He mumbles into your neck, his hand now pressing over your underwear, palming your heat. You buck your hips slightly, pulling harder on his hair. He grunts into you, his other hand squeezing your waist. You feel his hardness growing, pressing into your ass.

“I need you. Please.” You whimper, your head resting against his shoulder. He gives into you, loving the way you beg for him, and dips his fingers into your underwear, slicking through your folds, arousal coating his fingers.

“So wet for me…” He rasps, rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles, making you melt into him. You moan out loud, sinking your teeth into his neck as he pushes your panties to the side now, and moves his fingers down to your entrance, pushing one in all the way to the knuckle and then pulling it all the way out, once again going back up to massage your clit.

He’s torturing you and you’re a mess beneath him, leaking out onto the sheets, squirming from the pleasure and he holds you down firmly. “Chris, please.” You beg, unsure what you’re trying to say as he has you in a state of bliss.

“Be a good girl for me.” He responds firmly, watching you in the mirror as he thrusts two fingers back inside you, stretching you out, wetness coating his hand. He moves at a faster pace now, curling as he pushes them deeper. He holds you tight, your head thrown back in ecstasy, puffing hot breaths against his neck, sweet moans filling his ear.

“Fuck, Chris, just like that.” You whine, feeling a familiar warmth in your abdomen build. He doesn’t stop, his thumb now circling your clit, his fingers hitting your g spot with each thrust.

“Look at me baby.” He demands and you lift your head up, making eye contact with him in the mirror, watching as he fucks you with his hand, your legs spread open for him.

“I’m so close.” You moan, the sparks of pleasure he’s created spreading within you. You move your hips with each thrust of his fingers into you, Chris moaning with you as your ass repeatedly grinds back against him.

“Already, mama?” He teases, unable to hide the smugness from the fact he’s always able to make you finish quickly.

“Chris.” Is all you can manage as his fingers continue to slip in and out of you, pushing you to the edge.

“I know, baby, you’ve been so good for me. You can cum baby, cum on my fingers.” He praises, and his arm is around you, holding you as your body shakes, basically riding his hand at this point. Seconds later, you release the tension that’s been building, crying out loudly as warmth floods your body, thighs clenching and your juices releasing onto the sheets beneath you.

You’re extremely tired now, your body relaxing against him as he slowly moves from under you, getting up from the bed to grab a towel to clean you up.

He does so, rubbing your legs gently, brushing your hair back from your face as you lay against the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, laying down next to you.

“Get some rest, baby.” he says quietly, cuddling close to you as your eyes grow heavy. “But Chris, don’t you want- “you start, knowing he needs to be attended to as well.

He shakes his head softly. “Not now, mama. Too stressed over tomorrow. Let’s just go to sleep.” He answers, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep.

✰

It’s a dark, cold night in the city, no heat in the van as you sit in the back with Chris, pulling your hood up onto your head. You’re parked in the alleyway across from the gas station, hidden from anyone who might be out on the streets.

You bounce your leg in nervousness, feeling the hard metal of the gun in your hoodie pocket. He places a hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. “You can still back out of this you know.” He says and you lace your fingers through his, shaking your head. “I’m fine. You’re not going in there alone. I’m just a little nervous.” You respond.

Tommy sits in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette and passes it to you. You take a drag, trying to calm your nerves down.

“It’s okay, Y/N. 30 minutes, in and out, and we’ll be good, okay? Just remember the plan.” Chris reassures you, giving you a kiss before he pulls his ski mask on. He has a black long sleeve on and black pants, his gun tucked in his waistband.

You tie your bandana on, only your eyes visible, your hair tied back under your hoodie. “Come on.” He says, sliding the door open and helping you out. “Pull up when you see us come out.” He tells Tommy, who nods as Chris shuts the door.

He turns to you, his eyes soft and places his hands on your shoulders. “Last chance, baby. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m not bailing on you now. Please, let’s get this over with.” You say and he pulls you in, hugging you tightly before you both cross the street quickly.

It’s 1 am, the streetlights glow on the pavement, the open sign of the gas station blinking.

He gives you one last look before he pulls open the door, both of you raising your guns at the man standing at the register.

There’s a pure look of shock and terror on his face as he raises his hands in the air. Your eyes scan the store, grateful to see nobody else inside. “Don’t make one fucking move!!” Chris screams at him as he moves toward the back door behind the counter.

You stand in front, keeping your gun aimed at his head. The man’s eyes flicker between you and Chris, his hands shake slightly. You feel bad for him but then remember how Chris told you he’s involved in one of their rival gangs and probably has done worse than you.

Chris kicks open the back door, and you watch as he disappears into the room, hearing him shout at one of the men that must be in there. You can’t make out what he says though and focus back on the clerk. You keep your expression blank as he stares at you, his arms still raised.

“Did Michael set me up?” He says and he flinches as you move your gun closer to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say, refusing to engage in conversation with him. You assume he must be referring to his boss, and he’s unaware that his operation has actually been busted by the Disciples.

As if he can read your mind, he speaks up again. “I just started this job. Michael hired me to run the register here, I had no idea what was going on in the back. I thought he only owned this place, I didn’t know who he really was.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his words. Was he saying that he didn’t know his boss was actually a gang leader? You now realize he looks very young, like he could still be in high school.

You shake your head, your gun never wavering from your aim at him. “Stop fucking talking!!” You yell. For all you know, he could just be making this up, trying to mess with your head.

What was taking so long?

Chris was still in the back, and you couldn’t hear anything.

“Please, you gotta listen to me-“The clerk starts again but he’s interrupted by a gun shot popping off in the back, making you flinch and your heart instantly drop.

You panic and Chris suddenly runs out, large duffle bag on his shoulder, while you hear the man in the back scream, “Shoot him!” He sounds in pain and you get a glance of him on the floor, his leg bleeding and it’s obvious now that the gunshot was from Chris.

Before either of you can react, the clerk pulls a gun out from under the counter, aiming it at Chris.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Bam!

The sound of the gunshot rang out, making you lose your ability to hear for the next few seconds as you watched Chris go down, clutching his stomach in pain. Blood started to spill out on his hands, staining his shirt a crimson color. The gas station clerk was as shocked as you were, standing there frozen, gun still pointed.

You don’t know how or why, but you just knew you both wouldn’t get out alive from this if you didn’t do something.

So, you shot back, aiming for his shoulder. It hit him right where you intended as he doubled over immediately, screaming in pain.

You grab Chris who was still on the floor, helping him stand up. “Baby, come on. Please, we have to go now.” You plead. He grabs onto you, able to stand as you lead him out of the store.

He’s moving as fast as he possibly can, one arm around your shoulder, his other hand covering his wound. You see the van pull up on the other side of the street, your heart beating out of your chest.

You’re trying not to panic, looking up and down the street for any signs of police. There was hardly anyone out. Chris almost falls, shouting out in pain. “Fuck!” He yells and you stop him from falling.

You can barely hold him up, but you use all your strength to make it the last few steps to the van.

“I know baby, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there, Chris, just a few more feet. You can do it.” You say, and he’s shaking, still gripping onto you for dear life. You finally make it to the van, the door sliding open, Tommy helping you both in before he quickly shuts it and then hops back into the driver seat, taking off down the street.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened in there?!” he says, looking at both of you with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. I need to stop him from bleeding out. I’ll tell you later.” You snap, taking off your hoodie and wrapping it around Chris’s torso. You apply pressure, glancing at him.

He’s pale, breathing rapidly and panic in his eyes as he looks at you. You grab his face with your other hand, brushing his hair back. “It’s okay baby. Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the house soon and get you bandaged up, okay?” You reassure him, trying to keep yourself from crying.

He nods his head, grabbing your hand tightly as he winces in pain.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into? The many times you and Chris had gone over the plan, and it still didn’t go accordingly. Now Chris was wounded and the drugs and money you were supposed to retrieve still at the store. You’re not sure how you both are going to get out of this.

You tell Tommy to drop you guys off at Chris’s house instead of the warehouse. Once you get there, he helps you take Chris inside and you tell him to lay low for now, until Chris gives him the next order. He leaves, and you silently pray Jason doesn’t get to him before you guys decide what to do, or worse, get to Chris.

He’s lying on his back on the bed, and you put a pillow under his head, trying to make him comfortable. He winces in pain as you take your hoodie off from around his waist, his hands gripping the sheets harshly. You pull his shirt up. The bleeding is very little now but it’s all over his shirt and stomach, as well as your hands and you get clean, damp towels and bandages for him.

Luckily the bullet only grazed him, you notice as you clean him up, not seeing a deep wound.

You’re almost done putting the gauze and bandage on, making sure it’s tight as he looks at you, and grabs your arm, stroking it softly.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry mama.” He says weakly and you give him a soft smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be glad we both got out alive. Are you okay?” You say and he nods. You help him pull his shirt off, his wound now clean and bandaged. You give him some water and a left-over Vicodin he had in his stash, hoping that will help with his pain.

You sit next to him on the bed now, running your hands across his chest and shoulders, his eyes closed at the feeling of your soft hands.

“Chris… what do we do now?” You ask, knowing you can’t avoid the inevitable.

He looks at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I never told you this, but I have an older brother who lives in Vermont. I’ve been thinking about going there for a while now… starting over with you.” He responds. “Would you go with me?”

“Baby… I would go anywhere with you.” You say and lean down to press your lips to his.

You kiss him softly, careful not to hurt him. You start to pull away, but he holds your face there, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He moans at the contact, making you throb in your core, but you pull away, not wanting it to go any further.

“Chris. We can’t, you’re hurt right now.” You say but he shakes his head, pulling you back to him.

“I don’t care, I need you Y/N.” He replies and kisses you again. You give in, allowing him to mesh his tongue with yours again. You suck his bottom lip, nipping it lightly with your teeth and trail your hand down his chest, making sure to avoid the spot where his wound is, feeling his stomach tense under you.

He groans into your mouth as you palm over his crotch, already rock hard and straining through his jeans. “Fuck, mama. Don’t tease me.” He breathes, as you rub your hand back and forth over him, feeling yourself grow wet at the sound of his voice.

If it was any other instance, you would drag it on and make him beg for it like he does with you, but you didn’t want to do that to him right now.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” You say softly, unbuttoning his jeans as he lifts his hips, sliding them down his legs and removing his boxers.

His long, thick cock lays against his stomach and you grab it pressing a kiss to the tip and then letting a pool of saliva drip down him, coating him before you take him all the way down your throat, your nose brushing his pelvis. “Fuuuck…” He moans out, his hands holding your hair back from your face, pulling it into a ponytail.

You gag slightly, but quickly adjust to his size, bobbing your head up and down him. Your hands rest on his thighs, and you hum around him as he pulls a little on your hair, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip from the feeling of you taking all of him in your throat.

“Yes, baby, feels so good. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He groans, making you moan again and he’s gently bucking his hips up, already feeling himself close.

You continue for a few good minutes, pausing only to catch your breath, your hand jerking him up and down before he pulls you up, helping you remove your clothes as he gives you a needy look.

“Come here, please. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” He says and you waste no time, sinking down onto him, the pleasure making you both cry out. You lay on top of him, your hands in his hair and kiss his neck, starting to grind yourself down on him.

“Is this okay baby? You’re not hurting?” You check, making sure not to put too much pressure on his lower stomach.

“Fuck no. Don’t stop.” He replies, grabbing your hips and helping you ride him.

He’s moaning in your ear, and you continue sucking and kissing his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin. You clench around him, your hips rolling, the feeling of his tip kissing your g spot making you soak all over him.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re both panting and sweating, the sounds of your wetness and skin against skin filling the room, driving you both to the highest point of ecstasy.

“Shit- feels so fucking good mama. I wanna fill you up.” Chris says, his fingertips digging into you as he squeezes your waist, feeling his release building.

You moan his name, your head falling to his shoulder, fingers knotting in his hair as you continue to bounce on him. “Cum inside me baby, please.” You whimper, and you feel his hips stutter, rhythm becoming sloppy as he starts to release into you. Your orgasm hits as well and he moans loudly as you feel his cum paint your walls, your legs shaking.

You stay there for a little, Chris holding you as you both catch your breath before climbing off him.

You check his bandage, making sure it’s still on good and then grab one of Chris’s shirts throwing it on while he puts a clean pair of boxers on.

The early morning light is now shining through the bedroom window, and you both kiss lazily, exhausted from the events of the night. He holds you close and you try not to think of what will happen next, focusing on the feeling of his hands in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, while he whispers “I love you.”

a/n: omgggg this was a crazy, long one but i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!!! im almost at 100 followers thank you guys so much. pls leave me more messages i wanna know your thoughts!!🩷

matt series next? 👀

taglist <3

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo oneshot #robbers

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nouvxllev · 4 months

Text

the girl across your street || p5 (FINAL)

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: You spent half of your life waiting for the right person to just step into your life and take over your heart by storm, someone who would think of you when they see a shooting star, someone who'd paint canvases of your face so the world would know who considered you greater than the Mona Lisa, someone who cherished you oh so dearly. Now, you can happily say with all your heart, you found her.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: restating my statement on the previous chapter, this is the longest chapter of all lol

a/n: got a lovely suggestion from @ajortga (check out their stories btw, theyre amazing!) and an anon request for this part! i appreciate them and i wrote it to the best of my abilities.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || masterlist.

'...I still got love for you

Your braids like a pattern

Love you to the moon and to Saturn

Passed down like folk songs

The love lasts so long...'

"There's my favorite actress of all time, Jenna goddamn Ortega!"

You shouted with your arms out, ready for a hug, while running over to Jenna in the freezing cold. She was clad in a puffy hoodie and comfortable jogging pants, and she had her beanie on, wrapped around her head along with her own pair of headphones, preparing for the impact of your body-crushing hug.

"Y/n, y/n! No, slow down!" she screamed before toppling down to the snowy ground along with you, your arms wrapped around hers as you laughed together in harmony.

She sat up, your body going in rhythm with hers, "You really love that line, don't you?" She chuckled before cupping your cheeks with her hands. She muttered a quiet sorry, noticing how you flinched at the cold touch.

"Hey, you've finally accomplished your goal. You deserve it, Jenna." You loved saying her name, no amount of terms of endearment could ever beat the love and devotion you had for it.

Jenna looked at you, a smile covering her face as her dimples took over and her freckles became more visible to you, a sense of hopeless romance reflected in both of your eyes before pulling you in with her hands and planting her lips against yours.

It hasn't been one day since you last kissed her and oh how you missed the taste of her lips on yours. It's like your problems melted away by her scent and the taste of her lipbalm.

Before you knew it, you and Jenna had become the IT couple of the year. It even surprised you how the world knew the both of you were dating in the first place considering how Jenna never really posts on social media about her personal life and neither do you. But with how paparazzis work and how Jennas fans work harder than the devil, you can see now why your relationship with Jenna got blasted online.

Now, the two of you were the global love team, featured in commercials, advertisements for certain brands, and even you trying a hand at acting. You occasionally made appearances as Jenna's love interest in a show, though your role was more of a background character, the audience always loved seeing you together with Jenna.

In each film you directed, Jenna was sure to be in it, and she always became the character you couldn't bear to kill off even with a gun to your head.

Jenna always assured you that it was perfectly fine if her character was killed off since she's an amazing actress who pulls all her stunts so flawlessly, but watching her act getting shot in the head, stabbed, or possibly tortured in the horror movies you were set to direct? Just right in front of you? Hell, you'd rather do that to yourself with no pay.

But of course, like Jenna always ranted to you about, the entertainment industry was ass. Jenna warned you after you guys made it official that you'll be under the spotlight for a couple months, or even years. You couldn't go outside for even a minute without seeing a paparazzi literally in the bushes with a huge goddamn camera as if you can't see them. But if that was the price to pay just for Jenna to be beside you at all times, you'd deal with it even if you'll have paparazzi surrounding your coffin soon.

"Y/n?" she said, waving her hands in front of you, as if the only thing keeping you grounded was your tight grip on her waist. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah? Yeah, sorry, what is it?"

"I'm moving in with you."

"What?"

Damn, you were certainly not ready for that.

"If— If that's okay, of course—"

"It's always okay, it's more than okay, Jenna!" You took her hands into yours, shaking them with excitement. "When are you moving? Actually, why are you moving?"

"It's been months into our relationship, y/n. I don't like how you always drive to my apartment every day just to see me." She stood up, lifting you by your grip, "also, I'm moving next week. I still have a schedule to clean up on."

You stood up alongside her, walking backward while facing Jenna as she walked beside you. "But driving to your apartment is my favorite part of the day, Jenna."

She sighed, "Okay, you choose, driving miles to my apartment or waking up beside me?"

"Definitely the latter." You picked, way too instantly, pointing a finger at her and clicking your tongue while she laughs.

"See? It'll be fun. For the both of us." She ran beside you then took your hand, pushing her body to be against yours as you smiled under your breath. Oh, how you loved being in her presence.

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

The two of you approached the front door, kicking off your shoes while Jenna placed hers gently near the entrance. You turned on the lights as you headed for the kitchen, calling out, "You want something to drink, Jenna?" while noticing Jenna was still at the doorway.

She immediately turned the corner upon hearing your voice. A small smile played on her lips as she looked over at you, one of your hands on your hips as you scanned the refrigerator for ingredients. "I'm good. Thanks, y/n."

"Make yourself at home, Jenna. Since you are moving in," you said, glancing over your shoulder. You noticed Jenna looking around your house, finding the interior and atmosphere both familiar and yet vaguely new.

"You got it fixed?" she called out after noticing the DSLR camera you always loved and adored on top of the coffee table. You had it fixed for the holidays and for Jenna, of course, considering how both of you always enjoyed making videos with it in the past. You figured it was time to revive those memories.

"Yup! I had to. Its got my treasured moments in it." You approached her. After scanning your near-empty refrigerator, you took the DSLR camera in your hands and handed it to her. "I wanted to do a Christmas special on it, this time, with you on here."

"Christmas special?" She looked up at you, smiles and all. You remained the same for her—the one who always loved making videos, even if you were too scared to post them online or just didn't have a reason to. Nonetheless, you gave your best in those videos, and it truly brought out your happiest side.

"Didn't even know that was possible. I mean, no offense, but this looked like it got run over by a bullet train." She fiddled with your camera, turning it on and scrolling through the photos and videos. She was surprised to find old videos she hadn't seen the last time she turned it on.

You chuckled at Jenna's comment. "Okay, I'll admit it was pretty busted, but I found a technician who worked wonders on it. And about the Christmas special, well, it's going to be the first video I filmed in a long while."

"Long while? You haven't filmed something in this?" She looked at you, concern filling her eyes. She always knew you were the one in the friendgroup always recording a moment, even in the past she had heard, so why stop?

You sat down with her, "Ever since you left, I haven't been able to record. Even if I did, I'd just delete it anyway. Nothing is ever perfect without you, Jenna. I didn't realize how much it meant to me until I couldn't bring myself to do it without you." Your voice dwindled down into a whisper as you took her free hand that was beside yours, gently grazing your thumb on her palm. The vulnerability in your voice was something Jenna liked about you, how you spoke your mind whenever you were with her.

"I never knew," Jenna admitted, her fingers gently intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry, y/n."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips before you checked your phone for the time. "Okay, sappy moment over!" You immediately stood up, putting your phone in your pocket, "I have to go and buy some groceries. Wanna to come, Jenna?"

"I'll stay if it's alright." She assured you, chuckling at how fast you got over the moment so quickly.

"More than alright. I won't be long anyway." You headed for the doorway, putting on your boots and coat, your hand already on the doorknob until you heard Jenna call out your name.

"Y/n! You forgot something!" She called out, approaching you with headphones in hand.

You looked over at her, already smiling at the fact that she was more than an inch smaller when you put on your boots. "Oh, right," you said before cupping her cheeks and giving her a quick peck on the lips, completely ignoring the fact that she was already handing you your headphones.

You gave a little wave and a quick goodbye before going out and closing the door behind you.

"Your headphones—!" Jenna called out before you were already running across the street with your hands in your pockets. Honestly, she was more surprised with your ability to forget everything in your vicinity rather than how you walked so fast.

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

Your voice from the camera echoed throughout your bedroom, the room where the both of you had confessed your love for each other. Jenna laid comfortably on your bed, the window opened as cold air flowed into the room, and your camera held up high by her hands. She was watching an old video you had filmed before, you and Jenna in her old home, filming a cooking video, she’d think you’d call it.

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

"Weeelcome to—hey Jenna, what should we name our cooking show?" You picked the camera up from the camera as it started recording. You went over to Jenna who was already prepping the ingredients needed, even she was in get-up, an apron and all. You contemplated if you could quickly go to the store and buy a chefs hat for her.

Jenna glanced up from her task, her eyes going to the camera before going to you. "Maybe just our names together? Jenna and Y/n."

You lowered the camera a slight bit, the perspective looking a little wonky, "But Jenna, that's so boring! We need more pizzaz." You looked at Jenna who was screaming towards the kitchen and the cupboards to check where her knife went.

"Then have you got something in mind?" She sharply asked, turning her heel around, "Have you, somehow, seen my knife? I swear it was just around the sink."

"Yeah, okay, great point, I have nothing as well." You placed down the camera on the counter, using a jar of whatever behind to keep it from falling down. "Here," you said with a cheeky smile as you presented the knife as if you were kneeling before a queen, and Jenna could only give you an unimpressed look.

You helped Jenna for a hot minute before turning to the camera once again, your full body being shown and a certain someone who was outside of view "Today, we're baking cookies—Jenna, c'mere." You held your hand to Jenna who wasn't in frame.

Jenna, still holding an unimpressed expression, walked over to where you were standing, joining you as you both appeared side by side in the frame. You appeared comically taller in the camera than Jenna, making you laugh just slightly before the shorter one punched you in the gut.

"Alright, anyway, let's bake some cookies!" You clasped your hands together, and Jenna could only look at you with eyes that conveyed love and adoration, wondering how you never noticed it.

Jenna picked up the camera and whispered, a little bit too loudly into the camera, "Side note, we have little to no experience at all at baking," she said, "We have absolutely no idea what we're doing!" You screamed from the background, already mixing in the ingredients, making her laugh before yelling that you made the wrong step.

"We're winging it, Jenna! God, who knew we could be such good bakers?" You exclaimed while mixing everything up, your hand was getting tired by how you whisked everything at such random paces, but Jenna didn't mind.

Everything was going smoothly, and perfectly Jenna could say so herself before her face scrunched up in confusion when you accidentally added salt instead of sugar.

Jenna's eyes widened, her warnings to stop you were a bit too late as you had already added half of the cup into the mixture. "Wait, oh fuck, y/n, y/n! That's a whole cup of salt!" She exclaimed, throwing her body against you as she tried to grab your arm that was pouring the sugar, but it was already too late.

You paused mid-mix, staring at Jenna, then at the bowl with a horrid expression. "Shoot!" You immediately, in instincts you'd defend until your dying days, dove your hand right into the mixture, as if your hand could magically pull out the tiniest ass bits of salt grains.

Jenna with all her might, restrained herself from bursting into laughter, "Okay, that's just so wrong, you can't just—!"

"Alright, alright!" You pulled your hands from the mixture, putting them up in the air in surrender as the gooey texture of incorporated eggs, flour, milk, and whatever was in there went down from your sleeves.

"Let's just make another batch." You turned to her, "let's just make another batch," you repeated.

"Y/n, we went through 3 batches already."

A moment of silence you both had as both of you looked at the batter you two worked hard on. Before a playful fight completely outraged from the both of you when you started to hand paint Jenna's face from the batter, creating silly drawings on her face as she ran away from you armed with a spatula to fend you off.

In the end, the both of you completed your task of baking cookies while using the same batch, and, well, they turned out... nice. On the camera, they looked really nice, and they kinda even smelled good from afar.

"Annnd, it's done!" You exclaimed, and Jenna tilted the pan slightly to give the camera a preview of the cookies.

After a bit of banter from the both of you, a minute passed by, and you two were holding cookies.

"They look... edible enough to eat anyway," Jenna said, inspecting them before looking towards you with your own cookie. "Cheers?"

"Cheers!" you echoed, holding up your cookie to Jenna's in a mock toast. The camera captured the moment as both of you took a bite simultaneously. And how your faces contorted into disgust.

"Y/n, just take it out, even I can't swallow this."

"Okay, good choice, oh god—!"

The last thing the camera recorded before it fell was you and Jenna quickly spitting out the bites into a nearby trash can and rushing over to the sink, pushing each other as you tried to turn the faucet on and rinse off the disgusting taste you both had in your mouth.

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

Jenna laughed heartily as she scrolled through the numerous videos you both had filmed over the past months with the camera in her hand. She couldn't believe that your entire bond had been created over this camera—how you wanted to become a director and how she wanted to become an actress. It was surprising how well the both of you fit with each other, down to your interests.

She kept watching the videos you had filmed for the both of you. Jenna even went out of her way to roam around your room, looking for memory cards to see what other videos you both had done. That was until she opened a certain drawer in your table lamp, tucked away all the way to the end. She couldn't have spotted it if she hadn't opened it all the way.

Handwritten notes, letters, wilted flowers, keychains, an abundance of printed polaroid photos, and photos in general that you had kept, intending to give them to Jenna. These mementos had been tucked away in this drawer for months on end.

She didn't want to pry, but a part of her was drawn to the crumpled letter that stood out among the rest. When she opened it, it had pen scribbles and stains from what she assumed were tears.

The letter read,

To my Jenna To my dearest To Jenna

To the girl across my street, (9/27/2020)

You shouldn’t be the one I should be writing a love letter to at 1 in the morning, even if I know in my bones I’ll be writing letters for you until I rest for eternity. You shouldn’t be the one that keeps me up at night wondering if you’ll ever come back until now. You shouldn’t be the one that I subject my undying love to, the love that I kept reserved all these years, and yet you arrive and suddenly, all of it is yours. You shouldn’t be the one for me at all. But you are, and I hate that you’re everything I want in my life. I shouldn’t be mad at you Jenna. In fact, I love you. I love you so much, it hurts as I write this. I love you so much, I can’t look at myself anymore wondering what I would’ve done to keep you moving away from my life. Ever since I saw you, I felt like nothing in my life mattered more than being with you, even if I knew that was impossible. Well, until you suddenly picked me up after a horrible fall. I knew from everyone in my town that you were the most private person, you never opened up to them even if they always kept coming to your doorstep with leftovers from their family dinner. You told me that it was a bit overwhelming, seeing your fridge pile up everyday with everybody’s leftovers, you even got a lollipop from a kid. From our conversations, it was those random moments you told me from your life that I cherished the most, even if it was just something you remembered out of the blue. I fell mad in love with you, head over heels. No one would know falling in love with a great force other than me with you. I realized that when you invited me to your family's house for Christmas after you found out about the relationship I had with my parents, since then, I knew the love I had for you was soon going to drown me until my heart was filled with your name.

The way your family welcomed me with open arms as if I was someone, finally someone a part of something, I couldn’t bear to walk away anymore. The way you had introduced me to your siblings and cousins with a smile that I could only mistake for as a star, the way you had made me a part of your family, the way you made your family love me the way they loved you. I hate it, Jenna. I hate how your eyes brought revelry upon those who are grieving, how your touch brought forth the saints buried in the hearts of sinners, how your laugh would make every great poet struggle to illustrate the sound of your voice, how your soul brings every angel and saint to shame. I hate how you made me so happy, how you made the happiest side of me shine. I hate how I hate none of these things at all. I love everything about you, I can’t just pretend like I don’t. I love you, Jenna. I love you with all of my heart, each bone in my body yearns for yours, your very being became the muse of every thought, my soul is eternally yours forever, why did I let it be that way? And why until now, It’s still yours to keep? To rip apart? Yours to silently remind you that there’s someone out there who had their heart programmed to beat for you, and for only you. The day you left, I only realized how you were so important to me. It’s maddening how that was the first thought came to mind, how I fell so in love with your soul I completely forgot how you left me in pieces. How you didn’t text me, how you didn’t call me, how you didn’t even do the bare minimum as knocking on my door or maybe leaving a note to say you were leaving entirely. It’s been exactly a year since you left, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you ever since. A part of you still stayed with me, or maybe I just looked for you everywhere, hoping one day you’d appear beside me like nothing ever happened and grace me once again with that smile of yours that would last me a lifetime. Everything reminds me of you, Jenna. Every place, every home, every street, every film, every note that I hear from a song you’d used to sing to me with your stupid guitar you always wanted to master but never got the chance to. I’m in love with you, Jenna. I’m so in love with you to the point I can’t say it to your face. I’m yours forever more, and I hate that I am.

From, y/n. Happy Birthday, Jenna.

I wished I confessed to you more earlier.

"Jenna! Jenna!" A voice she loved, loved now more than anything, quickly pulled her out of her thoughts, banging against her own door. She pulled herself up from your bed, running towards the door in a hurry while holding the letter in her hands.

Jenna unlocked the door to see you. The love of her life, someone who wrote thousands of letters for her every day since she left, someone who had the stupidest idea to spend every inch of her savings to go buy her the headphones she always wished to own, someone who was now standing in the freezing cold.

"Jenna— Oh, Jenna, I forgot my headphones, and—and it was freezing like shit. God, I never knew there was a snowstorm coming in. I'm sorry I took so long I—"

You were cut off mid-sentence by her, who pulled you by your collar into a passionate kiss. The warmth of your house, the warmth of Jenna's body against yours, the warmth of her lips that brought every inch of your body to heaven was everything you needed to calm down. If only you had paused for a minute to take a glance at Jenna when you were rambling, you could only see her eyes in a lovesick gaze for you, you could see how much she loved you, you could see how she was everything you perceived her to be.

"Y/n," Jenna whispered, her voice a soft melody that resonated in the quiet room as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

You smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Jenna's ear. "What… What was that for?"

"I love you," she whispered under her breath. "I love you," she added, one more time, as if you were going to disappear if she didn't.

"I love you too, Jenna. What's going on?"

"I just—I just love you so much, y/n. I always said I love you, but never added so much or expressed how much I loved you." Jenna was always straightforward when it came to talking. It was her nature, her style of sentence, how she spoke aloud, the quiet confidence she had whenever she spoke to someone; it was one of the characteristics she had that made you fall in love with her. But now, she couldn't express herself in the way she wanted to. She did, but it only fell short. The amount of love she had for you was something she could never express properly, even with a dictionary in her hands, it couldn't be possible.

It only took you a minute before figuring what had happened.

"You... you read the letter?"

"Yes—Yes, I read the letter, y/n. All of it."

"Well, what'd you think?" You almost thought that you had discarded the letters you wrote for her, but you kept the most important one of all.

She pulled you into a soul-crushing hug, "I love you. I'm sorry, I just love, love, love, you, y/n. I'm sorry if I'm not enough for you."

"Jenna," you whispered, gently pulling back to look into her eyes, "You don't know how much you're more than enough for me. You don't know how much your smile just means everything to me, good or bad, and your love is everything I've ever wanted. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jenna's gaze softened, and a relieved smile played on her lips. "I'm just afraid that my love might fall short, you know? That I couldn't express it the way you do."

You cupped her face, your thumb gently grazing her skin, admiring her freckles. "Your love is perfect, Jenna, it's yours. I don't need grand gestures or expressions to make me feel happy. I just need you—your love, your presence, and everything that makes you who you are. Just, please, don't change that just for me—or for anyone."

The both of you kissed, the middle of the night while the orange light coming off from the kitchen flickered. A kiss, you knew, lasted only for a second. Or maybe even a few seconds, but this kiss lingered like a memory that lasted forever, a picture that was photographed and kept in a sealed case, stars that die but explode into a gorgeous nebula, a kiss that's worth for a thousand lifetimes.

Afterward, both of you watched the videos that you had filmed whenever and wherever. Jenna noted your habit of bringing the DSLR everywhere, capturing snippets of your private life where she wasn't in the frame. However, you quickly threw the camera against the headboard when she came across the holy grail of you trying out some skateboard tricks, where you horribly fell and got various scars on your leg.

In that moment, both of you probably knew you were going to stay with each other no matter what happened, or what challenges you faced. The way you both kissed then, in the doorway, was the most romantic kiss you had shared in your entire life. Probably not the most ideal of spots to decide to marry someone, but then again, who was the insane one who dated the girl across her street?

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Invisible string.

That was the saying for those who believe there's a string of fate binding people who were destined to be together, or for anyone who was in love for that matter. It's a sweet thing, you can say, considering how you're one of the people who truly believed in it. You spent half of your life waiting for the right person to just step into your life and take over your heart by storm, someone who would think of you when they see a shooting star, someone who'd paint canvases of your face so the world would know who considered you greater than the Mona Lisa, someone who cherished you oh so dearly. Now, you can happily say with all your heart, you found her.

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a/n: aaahhh this series has come to a close, thank you for all the love and support! now i can finally do another series with JO's characters or maybe just oneshots. (i have a fuck ton of drafts.)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

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disenbeaniechantment · 1 year

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DISENCHANTMENT 3.03 - Beanie Get Your Gun

#disenchantment #elfo #luci #tiabeanie 'bean' grunkwitz #beanie get your gun

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empresskylo · 9 months

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 4 ⬅ch. 3

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. forced proximity. blood, war, and death. wc 5.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this one was fun to write!! it's a bit longer than previous chapters too. thank you for all the messages and ideas for this fic, i hope i do it justice! and as usual, feedback is appreciated <3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

...al mazrah…

you sat trembling on board the razor-1, your bag tucked between your legs, wedged nervously between two insanely muscled marines that made you feel minuscule in comparison. ghost stood as the aircraft began to land and soap gave you a reassuring look from across the terminal.

you undid your seatbelt and you felt your fingertips vibrate as they clung to your tactical vest, all of your adrenaline was starting to make you feel sick.

“this is capture or kill,” soap had said to you. “but we need him alive.”

“that’s where i come in,” you mumbled under your breath.

soap nudged you on the shoulder. “don’t worry so much. you’ll hang back while we infiltrate the base hassan is camped up in. then you can swoop in to save the day when i have him bleeding out on the floor.” you rolled your eyes at soap’s confidence. “easy.”

“right,” you mocked, trying to hide the terror that was slowly seeping into your bones.

ghost began rambling off orders, the aircraft shaking as it made contact with the ground, and you tried to instill it in your brain that you had nothing to be so fearful about; this was just another mission for the guys. they did things like this all the time for the sake of their country. but the fact that you had never been on the frontline before kept niggling your mind. you began to wonder if you were really made for this kind of shit.

it wasn’t that long ago you had wanted nothing more than to join the military to help wounded soldiers when you realized you had nothing left for you back home. after your friend died in combat, an injury that could have been mended if they had enough medics in their arsenal, you decided to put on a brave face and save soldiers just like him. regardless of what you thought about war, you wanted to be a medic, meaning neutral ground. you were there to mend the fallen, it didn’t matter to you what side they were on.

and as much as you didn’t like to brag or be filled with a sense of pride–it always made you uncomfortable–it was just a technicality to say you were at the top of your class. the best of the best , as price had said.

“keep up,” ghost grunted to you as he turned to exit the craft, walking down the ramp. you shook yourself out of your head-pounding thoughts and quickly followed the group of men out of the ship, leaving team alpha behind.

you stumbled onto the ground, the strays of your hair that stuck out from under your beanie beneath your helmet fluttered in the wind as the ship took off to take team alpha downrange.

“razor-1, all bravo deployed. moving to secondary hlz,” the pilot said over the comms for everyone to hear.

your eyes locked onto soap’s, his gun at the ready. he nodded his head, urging you to follow him. you both made your descent with the rest of bravo, willing your hands not to shake as you held your gun up, your night vision goggles set over your eyes.

“all stations- razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!” the pilot’s anxious voice echoed in your ears. “incoming- flares! flares!”

you watched as the horizon lit up in front of you, hustling to stay beside soap.

“shit that was close!” another voice spoke.

and then, an urgent “second missile!”

you tensed, scurrying after the group of men who crept down the small incline. things were picking up fast. you had barely been out of the ship–it was certainly less than two minutes–and explosions and gunfire were already filling the air.

“oh fuck…!”

“razor-1 going down! we’re going down!”

your teeth clenched as you switched into a run, all your gear slowing you down and making you huff your breaths.

“stay close!” you heard soap yell in your ear.

you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you. the smell of ash began to fill your senses.

“hold up,” ghost commanded. the team stopped, a small explosion erupting at the bottom of the hill where building 1 was located.

“alpha, what’s your status?”

coughing and wheezing breaths harrowingly echoed on the comms.

“alpha, how copy…?” ghost said with a bit more urgency.

“bravo- alpha is immoblie. multiple critical!” a brief pause sounded between the man’s reply. “oh, shit! we’re taking effective fire!”

you clenched your gun. what if you, or soap, or ghost had been assigned alpha? you sucked in a breath of air and tried to calm your racing heart.

“alpha, we’re moving to building 1. hold tight.” ghost’s voice was so smooth as he spoke like this type of shit was a regular occurrence to him. the same candace as someone who was greeting a friend in a coffee shop. his nonchalance sent shivers up your spine.

“ghost, we need to secure that crash site now,” soap spoke.

“first, we clear for hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. then we secure the crash site. clear?”

“roger that.”

“let’s move.”

ghost, hustling towards the rocky house, swept into your line of sight. soap turned his head and when he saw you were close behind him, he took off after ghost.

“force up to the house.” ghost whispered.

you stumbled over the uneven terrain, the weight of all your gear and the obstruction the goggles caused was making it difficult to see.

the sound of shuffling pants, boots crunching the pebbled earth, and the slight hum of machinery was the only sound in your ears when no one was speaking. you felt your chest tighten with nerves.

suddenly, with your body realizing the height of the situation, you began to steady. you were good under pressure. exceptionally good. this is why you were here , you told yourself. you could do this .

you heard an enemy soldier shouting something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out–he must have been speaking arabic.

the group rounded up outside the house and ghost scaled the edge of the building. a man handed him a sledgehammer. “breacher up,” he said faintly before he slammed it into the wooden door. you felt a chill catch along the hairs of your arms as he broke open the door in one swift motion, you could see his muscles taut even through his thick layers of clothes.

“sweep through,” ghost called. soap was at the doorway and began shooting.

you tried to pay attention to your surroundings as you waited for soap and ghost to clear the way. the blazing fire in the distance sent eerie shadows along the buildings and barren trees.

“first deck clear! negative on hassan,” a bravo said.

another replied, “copy that, second deck’s clear!”

“rog,” ghost grunted.

you slipped into the building behind the men, watching as they scanned their surroundings and made themselves safe behind barriers.

“contact! building 2!” a voice shouted.

you stumbled back against a storage cabinet as gunfire ricocheted off the walls.

“they know we’re here!” ghost shouted. in a startling motion, he turned to you, spying you immediately as you shifted your weight. “stay down!”

you nodded and huddled behind a workbench. the men began shooting rounds at the men in building 2. the sharp metallic clank of a bullet hitting a metal desk off to your right made you jump, the shell clinking on the floor like a fallen coin. you felt your eyes widen slightly.

“all bravo, move on building 2!” ghost stated, his voice a welcoming sound through your headset. you tried to focus on his voice instead of the shouts of men and blasting echoes of weapons.

ghost and someone from alpha spoke to each other as the men started their way towards building 2. soap appeared beside you and helped you up. “you alright, lass?”

you nodded, “m’good.” you brushed yourself off and followed soap as he led you out of the building and towards another that was roughly 100 feet before your squad. you could see ghost already approaching the second building, his feet shuffling as he stayed out of the line of sight of the open doorway.

shouts in arabic made you stagger as you walked. gunshots in the distance followed by the occasional explosion filled the otherwise gorgeous night. you slid your goggles up and glanced at the starry sky. if it wasn’t for the bloodshed unfolding before you, you could easily see yourself laying out on one of these hills, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you watched the stars–they were so bright without all the light pollution.

soap slid up to one of the open doors and motioned for you to huddle beside another fellow sergeant. soap was bundled in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, and his night vision goggles on–same as you. you wondered if you looked as intimidating as he did.

“prep for breach,” ghost said.

“7-1 moving interior,” soap responded.

he quickly shot down three enemy soldiers before disappearing inside the building. you followed in pursuit, your heart hurting as you saw slouched bodies pool with blood, even if you knew they were the enemy. you hurried after soap and caught a glimpse of ghost using his knife to slice into a man with barely any effort. blood began to coat his gloves.

you crept behind soap as he slowly moved up the stairs to the second floor. gunshots repeatedly fired in front of the two of you.

“i’m hit!” a bravo shouted.

you dashed up the stairs but soap pulled you back before you reached the top, gripping your utility vest to bring you into him. “hey! wait till i clear it!”

“okay, then hurry up!” you huffed as soap went ahead of you and leaned around the corner, taking out the men in the other room.

you used that time to scurry off behind him and out onto the terrace where the injured soldier had crawled in order to get out of firing range.

you crouched beside him and slung your bag off your shoulder. “here,” you said as you pressed a cloth to his bullet wound. “hold pressure!”

a loud shotgun in the next room made you jump. you turned to look, your hands deep in your bag. you spotted soap and let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn’t him at the end of the barrel.

you heard soap’s footsteps return out onto the deck. “one’s in the hallway,” the soldier said to soap.

you worked deftly to pack and wrap the wound as soap slid off down the hall and you heard a strangled cry as he knifed someone.

“ghost, enemy rockets down,” soap said in your ear.

“thanks,” the man before you mumbled as his hand replaced yours where he began to hold the bandage. you heard soap speaking in the next room.

“the house is clear. time to go,” ghost muttered in your ear.

“it just grazed you,” you said to the sergeant. “you should be alright as long as we limit the bleeding.”

soap appeared beside you moments later, helping the man up as he limped. “you good to walk?”

the man nodded.

“all bravo circle up outside,” ghost commanded.

“let’s go,” soap said down to you.

you ran after soap down the steps and out into the field. you spotted the crash site not too far ahead and you felt your ears ring seeing the formidable tower of flames in the backdrop.

it didn’t take long to approach the ship and you followed soap and ghost as they entered the terminal.

“we got five k.i.a., one wounded. it’s just my gun and i’m low on ammo.”

you slid past soap and rushed to the man on the ground. the sergeant was knocked out cold and you quickly tried to make a mental note of his vitals. you tried to remember his name, but with everything that was occupying your brain right now, it eluded you.

you knew the others were talking, but you didn’t hear them as you honed in on the man bleeding out before you.

“get your gun on that tree line,” you finally deciphered through your hazy thoughts as ghost spoke.

you looked over your shoulder as loud explosions went off and shook the craft.

“fuck, man! fuck,” the alpha said.

“you called it, lt.!” soap said as he aimed his gun out the ship’s window.

as you bandaged the man, ghost and soap began firing rapidly.

“they’re getting close. secure the ramp!”

your heart felt like it was in your throat. another bomb went off and the craft shook violently. you yelped, falling sideways.

“sergeant!” ghost called. you pushed yourself up and tried to orient yourself. ghost shouted your name when you wouldn’t reply. you looked up at him. “you alright?”

you stared at him before your eyes flickered to soap who was shooting his gun out the window.

“are you alright?” ghost said more forcefully, his frame bending in half, his face now in your direct line of sight to grab your attention. it hadn’t registered that ghost was talking to you. you were only frazzled from the rocking of the craft, the explosions ringing in your ear, but you were otherwise safe behind ghost and soap, so you weren’t sure why he was so set on making sure you were okay.

however, ghost seemed to not be able to accept that you were okay until you verbally told him.

“yes,” you said faintly. ghost turned back to aiming his gun out the window without a second thought.

after another minute of gunfire, there was a lull.

“we clear?” soap asked.

“for now…” ghost replied.

you finished wrapping the arm of the bleeding soldier, and assessed that he had hit his head and had knocked himself out.

“alpha, you’re with us.” ghost commanded as he took off out of the ship. you and the men followed. you spoke over the comms to let the others know you left a soldier back in the crash site. he was wounded, but would be okay.

“those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they?” alpha 0-2 said.

“they’re well supplied and fighting relentlessly. thanks to hassan,” ghost said unhappily.

soap looked back at you. “keep up. we’re gonna need ya.”

you hustled behind him, your pistol at the ready.

the lot of you ran a wide berth, sprinting towards building 3, hoping hassan was inside. the sharp whistle of a bullet spiraled past you.

“a.q. sniper on the roof! get down!” ghost shouted to everyone. before you even had a chance to move, ghost was pushing you down into the grass. you gasped as you were squashed beneath him, laid out on the dirt. he held his gun up and aimed at the roof as he lay beside you.

“soap, take out the shooter. rest o’ ya stay low until we’re all clear!” ghost said, not acknowledging the fact that he had just pressed you flat to the ground, his body half covering yours.

soap shot a bullet. “sniper down!”

ghost rolled off of you and stood up, giving you a quick hand as he heaved you upright. he didn’t even look at you before he took off running towards building 3. your entire body was tingling.

it looked like a gallant eruption of fireworks above the building as enemy bullets fired toward you. air support lighting up the sky. soap was a few feet behind you and picked off the snipers one by one. you followed close behind the others as you approached the building.

soap was quick to follow, coming up from behind and going up the stairs and into the decrepit house. “7-1, moving interior,” he said.

glass exploding rippled in the building and you peeked inside to see soap shooting someone down.

“check the bodies, we need positive i.d. on hassan,” ghost said as he slid off to go in the right-side entrance.

you hunched over slightly as you followed behind him, looking down at ghost’s trail of corpses as you did, checking for hassan.

“anyone have eyes on hassan?” ghost asked after a minute.

“negative on hassan,” soap replied.

you tripped over rubble and fell to your knees with a huff. “shit,” you muttered to yourself. your foot was lodged in the concrete chunks. you tried to pull it free but that just shifted the rubble further, a large piece falling over your ankle. it was too heavy for you to move yourself. the house shook.

“sergeant,” ghost said, making you look up. he had backtracked when he realized you were no longer behind him.

“i can’t get my foot loose,” you said.

arabic echoed down the hall making your head snap up in alert. ghost began moving faster, squatting down as he approached you and heaving the rubble aside to get your foot out in one easy motion.

“ow, fuck,” you said, biting your lip to try and muffle your sounds.

ghost’s eyes flickered to yours before he moved the last piece that set your foot free.

the rest of bravo had already moved to the antithetical end of the house when the voices began to close the distance.

“shit,” ghost mumbled, pulling you up. he did so with such force that you collided into him, your hands landing against his chest with a gasp.

the men sounded close and you counted at least four different voices. their candace rose as they edged closer, like they were right around the corner when you were moved by ghost and suddenly faced with darkness.

“wha–”

ghost’s hand covered your mouth to silence you, pushing you against a wall. your eyes adjusted and you saw a sliver of light pour in through the slats of the door. ghost had pulled you into a closet. a very tiny closet at that.

your chest was pressed flesh against ghost’s, the room far too small to hold yourself and ghost–who was already too big to fit in a closet on his own, let alone one with you.

you could feel his chest move up and down as he steadied his breathing. your hands were on his utility vest. the voices of the men were now right outside the door. your fingers gripped tight on his vest as you tried to be as quiet as possible. he slowly let his hand fall to his side when he could trust you to be silent.

why wasn’t ghost attacking them? you’ve seen him take down trained men in less than two seconds. so why did he decide to hide now? was four too many for him? you doubted it, but you also tried not to think of the logistics because all that swam through your mind was how close ghost was to you. there was almost no space between your bodies, his front flesh against yours as he pushed you against the wall.

a rectangle of light slid across ghost’s face, illuminating his eyes which were visible now that his goggles were turned up on his helmet, making the brown in them gleam. like he could feel you staring, he looked down at you and you felt your face heat. you shifted your stance, trying to widen the distance between your bodies but your back was already flat against the wall. there was nowhere to go.

“what’re you doin’?” he said quietly.

you glared at him in response as you continued to slightly shift your body, wanting to at least have it so your side was pressed against him and not your front. you tried to shuffle your feet, wanting to turn, to push him back a bit, but you ended up just rubbing against him instead.

“quit squirming!” he finally hissed, his hands coming out to rest on either side of your head.

well now you were just stuck in an awkward stance so you tried to move your hips a bit, wanting to pull them away from ghost and back to how you were originally standing, but with the limited space, you were essentially just moving your hips against his own.

ghost growled in his throat and you stopped moving and let your breathing steady. you felt something hard press against your stomach and your eyes widened as you stared at ghost’s chest.

oh my god, you thought.

you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes flickered to his own, his eyes already pouring into you. your breath got caught in your throat. “i told ya to quit fuckin’ wiggling ‘round,” he said as if that made things more appropriate.

a flash of heat ebbed through your core. you told yourself that this was purely a physical thing– men could get turned on by a goddamn gust of wind if it hit them the right way. this had nothing to do with the fact that it was you pressed against him. this kind of bodily response would have happened no matter who it was against him.

you went to clench your thighs together in nerves and heat but you were stopped by ghost’s thigh. you realized the ceiling in there was too short for him and he had to hunch over, his knees bending and leaning on the wall between your own legs. oh my god , you thought again.

your face went red hot. fuck, of course you were stuck with ghost in the world’s smallest closest.

ghost’s eyes traced your face when he felt your legs press against his own, a sudden flare igniting in them.

oh no, did he think you were… you quickly worried. you wondered if ghost could tell you had been squeezing your legs together to subdue the quick sweeping sensation of arousal you got–this was not the time or place!

ghost’s head shifted ever so slightly closer to your own and his eyes were now disguised by the shadows of the closet. you could feel his warm breath against your face as he panted through his mask. you were trapped. he had you pinned, his large arms encasing your head, his leg between your own, his face inching closer to yours.

you felt your breath get lost in your throat, your mind suddenly going blank.

“ghost! ghost, where are you?” soap’s voice broke through both of your ears.

ghost halted any and all movement, his eyes flickering between your own. you realized you no longer heard iranian voices and wondered how long the men had been out of range.

it was as if ghost realized that at the same time you did because he pushed away from you and slid out the door, into the dusty and war-torn living room. now that he was away from you and not clogging your brain, you thought you might have imagined the way he had been edging toward you.

“deck one secure. any i.d. on hassan?” ghost spoke, his voice strained.

you slid out of the closet behind him. “negative, lt.” soap replied.

ghost turned to you as you stumbled into him, your ankle giving out at the most opportune time.

“ shit ,” you grunted. ghost turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing in the flames that brewed inside the building. “sorry,” you muttered.

“keep close,” he said to you. you felt your chest ignite. you had to control your eyes from shifting to his waist to see what you felt moments earlier. you were surprised your willpower was strong enough.

ghost led you around the bend and up a set of stairs, soap appearing beside you both. “pushing second deck.”

you slid on your night vision goggles and watched as ghost scurried to the side of a door when he made it to the top of the steps. a man opened it and walked through, ghost grabbing him and slamming him against the wall, the man’s gun pressed to his chest. in two swift motions, ghost shot his abdomen then his head, letting the body sink down.

jesus . you always knew ghost was a ruthless killer, but that was more so knowledge in theory. it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold before your own eyes.

you followed the men as they stealthed into the next room. you heard soap’s gun go off, and then ghost’s voice. “clear. hassan’s everywhere…”

you could hear hassan’s voice as it played in the distance, seemingly from every room. a video on loop of him speaking nonsense sat in the shadows like a horror movie. you felt a chill run down your legs realizing that no matter which way you turned, hassan’s voice was not far off.

“everywhere but here,” you mumbled. ghost’s eyes scanned you up and down before trailing on into the next room. you swore every hair on your body stood on its ends.

“the perpetrators of general ghorbrani’s execution must be sentenced to the death penalty and the world must witness the death of those responsible!” hassan’s iranian accent sang through a crackling radio.

you and soap poked around, not finding anything of use, apart from soap spotting hassan’s uniform, meaning he had recently been here.

“so he was here,” you muttered.

“lost him when we secured the crash site,” ghost spoke, looking between you and soap.

“are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” soap asked.

ghost averted his eyes on his next words as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “choices have consequences…” his eyes gazed over to yours, burning holes through his skull mask. you could see the disappointment and guilt that was attached to his statement. you were surprised at how much emotion he was able to exude through just his eyes. you wondered if he knew that.

“all bravo- we got movement out here,” someone said over the comms.

ghost reached up to click his receiver, his eyes still on yours, “on the way.”

you followed behind the two men as the continued to speak. as you made it out behind the house, ghost spoke, “what do we got?”

“a warehouse. roll up doors open. heard somethin’ inside.”

ghost spoke with a sense of assuredness, “copy, let’s clear it.”

you trailed the men as they all took off towards the large warehouse, ghost and soap hoping that hassan was nestled inside.

you rested your back against the building as the men started inside, gunshots and smoke bombs going off as they fought the enemy planted in the warehouse.

“all alone?” a husky voice with a thick iranian accent spoke. you looked to your right, your hands grabbing your gun, startled, when a man disarmed you in a quick, fluid motion.

you yelped as his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you forcefully to the exterior wall. you saw static stars begin to spread across your vision.

shit, shit, shit.

your legs flailed as you tried to kick and squirm your way out of his grip. his hand held you tighter. you swore your feet began to lift off the ground. recalling all the training you had done the last two weeks, you propped your knee up, bending it as much as you could against your chest, then shot it out with all the strength you could manage. the man stumbled, releasing you, as he collapsed onto the ground.

“eahira” bitch . he scrambled to get up and you panicked, trying to get your knife out of it’s sheath.

before the man could grab you again, his body just a hair from your own, a bullet pierced his skull. flecks of his blood squirted across your exposed face like red freckles. you stood in complete shock, the man sinking to the ground with a thump.

it was ghost that replaced the dead man, his hands resting on your shoulder, his deep voice saying your name repeatedly.

you finally looked up at him. “are you okay?” you swear you could see a bit of pride in his eyes as he took you in.

you nodded weakly, wincing as your neck muscles throbbed in pain from the small movement.

ghost yanked your mask up to look at your neck, already beginning to bruise.

his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “if that fucker wasn’t already dead, i’d tie him up and rip off his limbs one by one for that.”

you couldn’t help the astonished laugh from escaping your lips at the exorbitant threat. then a pang of heat surfaced when you realized ghost had made no such threats as his other men were picked off. he also didn’t seem to rush to their aid immediately. yet here he was… with you.

“hassan,” you said meekly.

ghost’s hands left your shoulders as he straightened. you felt a bit of sadness at the loss of contact.

“not here. found an arsenal of ballistic missiles. american missiles.”

your eyes widened at the information. “and shepperd…”

“already alerted.”

you nodded. “so that’s it then?” you asked, referring to the war trail you and your men left behind with nothing to show for it.

ghost gave a nod back. “we’re one step closer. we’ll find him.”

you don’t know why you took his word with such ease, but you knew he meant what he said. ghost wouldn’t rest until he had hassan in his clutches.

day broke by the time a humvee arrived to carry you all back to base. the injured men were loaded on one, the rest of bravo and alpha on another. there were significantly fewer men than when you started this hours ago. you felt a heavy feeling swarm your chest.

you were busy making sure your bag was closed and that you had all your things in it when you looked up and saw ghost step into the back of the vehicle.

you scurried to catch up, the last one as you climbed into the back. as you went to stand, the humvee took off, making you stumble and lose balance.

fuck , was the last thought you had as you felt yourself falling backward out of the vehicle. your arms flailed, trying to grab onto something, when a hand gripped your vest, yanking you forward and onto the humvee.

you looked up in relief to find ghost glaring at you. his hand was still tight around your tactical vest, the other men closest to the back were out of their seats in an effort to grab you. but of course, ghost got there first.

his eyes bore into your own, an odd wave of spite in them.

you knew it was your fault for dilly-dallying, but was he really going to be upset at you for almost falling out of the vehicle? it should cause more annoyance than anger, really.

you gulped and ghost released you, moving back to his seat. you stared after him until you felt soap touch your wrist. “sit,” he mumbled.

you focused on him instead of your lieutenant and sat in the empty seat beside soap.

you shifted your bag so it was on your lap, the men around you silent, all of them exhibiting a mix of disappointment in their mission and exhaustion.

you felt his eyes on you–something that seemed to happen a lot lately. you tried to resist, but you looked in his direction and met his gaze. you thought he’d look away, but he held you in a challenge across the truck. he still had all his gear on when most others had stripped some of theirs off.

he sat a bit forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glared at you.

you felt your heartbeat race and you felt like you might be sick with all the adrenaline running through you today–it couldn’t be healthy.

you finally coward away and looked down at your bag. a looming feeling coursed through your body. for whatever reason, the moment he pulled you into the truck felt like it was a breaking point for him. he was right back to hating you. despising everything you did. you felt yourself shrink in on yourself.

you never felt his eyes leave you the entire way back.

chapter 5 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

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yes-divine-ruler · 11 months

Note

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Can you do a 20, 27, 31 and 93 with a virgin!fem!reader x Kai Anderson where he finds out by some darkweb site that the reader is a virgin, and he gives her her first time lol <3

Benefactor - Kai Anderson

x virgin!fem!reader

cw: smut with a plot, corruption and size kink, loss of virginity, mentions of a knife

wc: I cut it down to 3.7k lolll!

@evanpetersfansblog @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud@laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence @simp4petermaximoff @evan4ever @paujmr @jangsuzchap @meganxfox @divineruler @spill-the-t @hihidora

Kai didn't know what he was searching for. Until he found you.

The basement was dark, the only light evidently emitting from the desktop screen. Kai had found himself down a deep, dark rabbit hole of drugs, guns and all sorts of illegal videos. He'd spent so much wasted time consumed by the screen in front of him, he'd almost scrolled passed your ad.

Take my Virginity, Give me $10k for College

To say Kai was intrigued was an understatement. He'd clicked on your ad with curiosity, sighing deeply as he flicked through your photos. Kai could feel the innocence radiating off you from the screen. To think such a sweet girl was so eager to give it all away made Kai's cock twitch.

He zoned in on your photos, leaning forward with his nose almost pressed against the desktop. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to twirl your soft hair around his fingers. How it would smell. How gentle you'd be, and how easy it would be to stimulate you. How supple your skin would be under his calloused fingers and every little whine he'd force out of you. How tight and wet you'd be, squirming under him as you squeezed around his cock. Milking him of all the cum he had.

After almost no consideration, Kai decided that you'd have to be his for the taking.

So he messaged you.

You were surprised to see that your ad had gotten some attention. You'd wondered how long it would take for some sick, twisted pervert to take the bait. The answer: one day. His profile was so unknown; no photo or anything about himself that might interest you. You almost didn't open your inbox. Yet, your eyebrows knitted in confusion opening his message.

hey, 30 yo and willing to do whatever it takes to be the one to fill ur dreams

Thinking your ad would attract men much older, you were pleasantly surprised there was only a decade difference between you. You bite down on your thumb nail, your chin rested on the palm of your hand in concentration.

a picture, maybe?

Anticipating his response, the fingers on your other hand drum softly against your desk. He was just online.

Within minutes, he'd sent back his response. Your gaze followed your cursor as you clicked on a censored .jpeg file. Your surprised reaction, instant, as you drank in his appearance. Handsome, dark eyes and long, blue hair. He wore a long black coat. his legs clad in black jeans. Combat boots on his feet. He looked like he belonged on the dark web, but never in a million years did you think he'd click on your ad. Nor did you think you'd be remotely attracted to the person who did.

Your potential benefactor went by the name of Kai. He was strangely polite and considerate. The thought that maybe he wasn't real crossed your mind.

Despite your suspicions, you'd found yourself parked outside Kai's desolate motel the next day. This was your last hope at a future, you had nothing to lose.

Putting on a parka and beanie, you exited your car. You knew that Kai would be in room 206. With the cash. All you had to do was knock a few times.

With a burst of courage, you set out to find room 206. Your teeth chattered in the cold. You tried hugging your parka close for warmth. You drone in on the room numbers as you ascend the outdoor stairwell to the second floor. Without long, you were in front of Kai's room.

Suddenly hesitant, you freeze parallel with the door. Fear will not get the better of you. He won't hurt you, you have a photo of his license.

You finally knock on his door.

It felt like years before the door finally opened. From the inside, the heater warms your shaking body immediately.

You look up from your shoes to see Kai looking down at you. Somehow he looked even better than the grainy photos. He smiled as stepped off to the side to allow you room to enter. You take the invitation. A sense of relief washes over you as the blood rushes back to your fingers.

"Hey."

Kai slides the deadbolt and his hands sit in his coat pockets. The coat he wore in his photos.

"Hey," you reply softly, observing Kai's face.

"Nice to finally meet you, doll," Kai removes his hand from his pocket to offer you a handshake.

You slide your cold hand into his, satisfied with his warmth.

"You too, I didn't think you were real," you blurt nervously. Kai turns to hang his coat behind the door.

"Real as it gets," Kai chuckles, "I'm honoured I get to help with college."

Kai offers to take your parka. He hangs it with his own jacket and turns towards the bed. He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him.

You fidget with the sleeves as you sit beside him. You notice his intoxicating scent immediately.

"Still cold?" He asks. Every word he speaks is accompanied by a minty coolness.

"Huh?"

Kai points at your chest. Right to where your nipples stand out from under your white shirt. You offer Kai an awkward smile.

"Oh, it's okay, it's warm in here, really," you reassure. Kai just laughs.

Shifting closer to you, he places a hand on your knee. Your body stiffens in surprise. His strong, veiny hand grips onto the skin of your thigh. You shiver to his touch.

"Where's the money?" You ask, attempting to remind Kai why you're here.

"In the bag. Have a look."

Kai gets up and encourages you to follow him to the corner of the room. A small bag sits on a dining table. You watch in anticipation as he unzips the bag, revealing a small stack of cash. The band reads "$10,000".

"Can I touch it?" You question with innocent eyes.

He nods and passes you the cash. It takes everything in you not to bring it to your nose to smell it. It would be yours soon.

You secure the money back in the bag and follow Kai back to the bed.

Before you can sit beside him, Kai grabs a hold of your hips. He positions you between his legs without a word.

"Why are you still a virgin?" He speaks suddenly. His eyes hungrily rake down your body. He thought he might break you if he squeezed too tight.

"Um, I dont know. Never felt comfortable with anyone, I guess," you reply timidly. Kai's fingers begin to bunch up the hem of your shirt.

"Hm," Kai’s lips form a thin, straight line, "is it okay if I take this off?"

You nod and allow Kai to pull your shirt over your head. You hadn’t worn a bra underneath. Suddenly, your bare breasts were on display for him.

He groans as you stand tall for him. You inhale a few deep breaths to try ease your nervousness.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?" Kai's hands return to your body. His thumbs trace up from your hips and settle under your tits. You'd never experienced something so intimate before. His hands felt like velvet and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Thank you," you mutter reluctantly. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as Kai’s thumbs flick over your sensitive, already taut nipples.

His teasing eases as his hands travel back down the curves of your body.

"Is this okay for you?" He asks sweetly, "have you ever had someone touch you before?"

"Yes,” you squeak out, “and no."

His fingers hook into the waistband of your tights and panties. He pulls them off your legs agonisingly slow.

A string of arousal drips from your core and sticks to your panties.

"Does it feel good? To be touched?" Kai already knows the answer. He silently admires your bare and vulnerable body standing before him. He loves how easily you respond to his touch.

"Yes," you admit, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to build some friction. Your body was so easily aroused, it was pathetically humiliating.

"Lay down," Kai instructs, shifting to give you the space to lay on the bed.

You lay back on the bed with shaky breaths. Your legs bend at the knee and your ankles stay clamped together.

Kai steps away from the bed and strips to a pair of grey boxers. The sight alone ignites a dull pulse between your legs.

He looked like he’d walked straight out of a men’s fitness magazine. Kai was beautiful and carried this dangerous confidence with him. For a moment, it felt like you’d met a more traditional way, and not though the dark web.

Kai lays beside you, and clings onto your opposite hip. He leans in and his lips ghost over yours. Even just a hint of feeling them on yours was exciting to you.

"I knew I had to have you," he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek, “you’re so delicate.”

Kai trailed gentle kisses to the corner of your mouth. Your core didn’t let up; continuing to pulse in ramped need.

His lips suddenly meet yours. They move in perfect synchronicity with yours. His warm tongue prods at your tightened lips, begging to explore the inside of your mouth. You open your mouth, moaning softly as his tongue takes on yours in a sticky battle for dominance.

Your thighs rub together as Kai's softly pinches your erect nipple. His mouth leaves yours and instead, attaches to one of your hardened peaks. He swirls his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. A low rumble works its way from the back of his throat.

Kai's cock twitches as he hears your first whimper of pleasure. He sinks his teeth softly into your perked bud hoping to get a small whine from you. Your cunt weeps with every noise you make. It begged to be attended to.

"You make such pretty sounds," Kai whispers against your skin as his kisses travel downwards.

You watch with heavy eyes as he trails kisses from your breast to your hip bone. He places a firm hand on your knee. You lurch forward and your mouth opens to object.

"Don’t talk, just spread your legs," he uses light force on your knee to open your legs. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you’re exposed fully to him.

Kai situates his head between your open legs and sucks in a shuddering breath.

He positions his fingers over your clit, applying enough pressure to have your hips jolt into his hand.

"Someone is needy," he hums, admiring your glistening cunt as it clenches around nothing.

"Kai," his name rolls off your lips pleadingly. Kai uses a single finger to dip between your folds and scoop your arousal. He pops his finger in his mouth and closes his eyes contently at the taste.

He opens his eyes and they peer hungrily into yours. He was silently asking to go down on you.

"Please," you whine in torment.

Kai wraps his arms around your thighs and brings your pussy impossibly closer to his face.

He sets out to work straight away, drawing your small, swollen clit between his wet lips and sucking on it softly. The foreign spike in pleasure had your body trembling.

Kai sets a flat tongue against your clit, before licking a thick stripe to your entrance. He probes inside with the tip of his tongue. He was already obsessed with the way you tasted.

"Your little pussy is perfect, made just for me," Kai mumbles against your pussy. The vibrations shoot through your core.

In response, your hips buckle up to meet his face. But Kai continues to slurp and suck at your heat. His palms lay flat against your hips to hold you in place as he pleasures your pussy. He wanted to get as many sounds out of you as possible.

A rising heat forms in your lower abdomen and you squirm under Kai's touch. Your orgasm builds rapidly as your walls continue to pulse,

Kai takes the opportunity to toy at your entrance with the pad of his thumb. He eventually sinks it inside you. The stretch is only minimal, but you still let out a small cry.

"Shh, it's okay," he reassures you, looking up at you and noticing your discomfort.

He begins to move his thumb, thrusting it slowly inside you. He hushes your every cry, until they switch to small moans.

"How's that feel?" Kai asks, removing his thumb and using it to brush slick over your clit.

"Better. It feels good," you say, propping yourself up on your elbows. You needed to get a better look at what he was doing to you.

"I'm gonna put in two now. Okay?" He doesn’t wait for a response, instead sliding his big fingers inside you.

His fingers fit snugly inside you. You grip around him with uncertainty. The deeper he plunges, the more uncomfortable it gets.

Another cry pushes past your lips as he pushes his fingers in knuckle deep.

"That's it," he coos, "you're doing so well, baby."

His consolation makes you relax and soon he's able to curl his fingers up to where it swells to his touch.

Kai lets out a low grown as your tiny cries turn into desperate gasps for air.

Your legs spread further apart as you approach your peak. You cover your mouth with your hands to hush your moans.

“Oh Kai, I’m sorry I’m gonna-”

“Don’t be sorry, let go doll. You’re allowed to cum,” Kai continues to lap at your swollen clit until a feverish heat pulsates through your body.

Kai moans against your pussy as your ever-tightening hole clenches in time with the pulse of your hardened bud. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you in strong waves.

When you’d come down from your high, Kai pulls away, panting for air. He wipes the slick off his chin with the back of his hand. You look at him in awe with doe-like eyes, never thinking that your dark web experience would be even remotely close to this.

“Come here,” Kai says softly, moving off the bed to stand at its foot. You sit up and position yourself on all fours to crawl over to him.

Your face is met with his clothed erection. You notice the tiny wet patch where the outline of his tip is. Your mouth waters thinking of what he has hiding under the fabric of his boxers. It was unlike you to be so ravenous for any man.

“Stick out your tongue,” Kai tucks his forefinger and thumb under your chin and brings your face up to look at his.

You maintain eye contact as your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and then sticks out.

Kai pulls down his boxers, never once breaking eye contact. He positions his leaky tip over the warm expanse of your tongue. He tasted salty, a flavour you weren’t expecting.

Kai runs his tip hesitantly across your tongue. You begin to drool down your chin from a build up of spit.

“Open your mouth for me, baby,” Kai maintains a firm grip on your chin as he forces your mouth open.

“That’s it,” he groans, sliding the swollen, angry tip of his cock into your mouth, “just like that, baby”. You hold your breath as his cock fills your mouth. He rocks his hips slowly into the back of your throat.

Kai lets out a soft moan as he feels your tongue on the underside of his cock, sliding from the middle of his shaft to the sensitive slit indenting his tip.

“Such a pretty little mouth,” he says with a satisfied sigh. Unable to hold your breath any longer, you discover you can breathe from your nose.

His hand lays steadily on the top of your head as he guides his cock deeper into your throat. You gag as he nudges the back of your throat. He holds your head securely in place. Panic sets in as you look up at him with a tear cascading down your cheek. You were hoping he’d take it as a sign to let go. But Kai persists, fucking your mouth in a way that has your throat ache.

Placing a hand on his thigh, you try and push him away. Kai eventually takes the hint, yanking your mouth from around his cock, leaving a rope of saliva still stuck to him.

You double over as you cough to soothe your throat. You swallow all the spit that accumulated in your mouth. Kai chuckles at your inexperience. He found your innocence amusing knowing he’s about to take it away. He softly pushes you back onto the bed.

“Bit much for your first time?” Kai asks as you lay with your legs spread for him. You nod; not feeling able to form a coherent sentence just yet.

“It felt so good though,” he says with a small whine, “I loved watching you choke on it.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as he nudges his tip between your soaked folds. Your breath catches in your throat as his cock made the first advance inside you, splitting you open only slightly. Your cunt transuded with a bountiful amount of slick, seeping down the tip of Kai’s cock and drenching the sheets beneath you. Your body was more than ready for Kai. He thrust his hips forward, burying himself entirely in your cunt.

His eyes become impossibly darker as his pupils grew triple in size.

The moan he lets out after being completely surrounded by you was low and animalistic. Your hands shoot out to grab a hold of Kai’s shoulders as a pang of discomfort shoots through your core. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you hopelessly stare up at the man above you.

“Kai, it hurts,” you whine as a tear falls. Kai’s expression doesn’t soften like you expect it too. He pulls out entirely, to just to slam back into you for a second time. You yelp in surprise and dig your nails into his shoulder blades at the sudden fullness. Kai begins to slowly rock his hips. Your mouth falls open and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and adjust to his size.

Kai can barely think straight, preoccupied by the way he’s stretching you out. He wonders how he managed to fit himself inside something so small and tight.

As the tears continue to run down your face, Kai wipes under your eye with his thumb.

“Kai! Please... talk to me…” you plead, digging your fingernails into his skin deeper. You were sure you’d leave bloodied crescent-moon indents in their wake.

Kai doesn’t notice your pleading nor the pain your fingernails were trying to inflict. He was consumed by a need to finish inside you.

Had you even thought of a condom? Kai certainly didn’t. He knew his intentions were to stuff his cum so far inside you it couldn’t spill out.

You were his, and unbeknownst to you, this arrangement was far from over. Like Kai promised, he’d do anything to get his hands on you. Even if that meant he had to do it the hard way.

Your mind began to race with irrational thoughts. You’d finally built up the courage to open your eyes again. Much to your disbelief, Kai’s were closed, and his face was twisted in some sort of sick pleasure. Yet, every thrust of his hips earnt another cowardly whimper from you. You were beginning to think you’d never adjust to his size.

“Y/N,” your name sultrily rolls of his tongue making your ears perk up, “you’re taking me so well, baby.”

Your lips curl into a small smile hearing his voice again.

“I’m gonna cum soon, okay? But I need to go a little faster, do you think you can take it?” Kai’s eyes flutter open and suddenly he’s peering down at you. You nod, mentally preparing yourself to be at his disposal. Kai leans down and plants a small kiss on your cheek.

“Say it. I need to hear you say it,” Kai growls, his fists balling the sheets by your head. You open your mouth to speak but your lips quiver in fear. You tongue juts out to wet them.

“Yes, Kai,” you respond finally, before another gasp pushes its way passed your lips.

Kai shows no mercy, snapping his hips furiously. The bedhead hits the wall again and again. The subtle knock rings loudly in your ears alongside every soft groan your cunt squeezes out of Kai.

He feels so deep inside you that you swear he’s rubbing up against your cervix.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” Kai seethes between grit teeth as he chases his own orgasm. Your core ached, but you still ran a hand reassuringly through his hair. You weren’t sure if it would help, or how to help, but you knew once he was finished, it would be done.

Kai snatches your hand in his, squeezing it in a tight fist as he cums. His last few thrusts were slow and sloppy.

He pulls out finally, pulling his glistening cock away from your cunt. You hadn’t noticed the blood until you reached down to cup yourself. It felt a lot wetter than usual.

“It’s normal,” Kai could read your panicked expression as you sat up in the bed.

“It is?” you asked, still perplexed. This wasn’t how you ever pictured it. It wasn’t supposed to hurt and you weren’t supposed to bleed.

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly, pulling up his boxers without cleaning himself off.

You nod, exhaling as you get off the bed to dress yourself. Your body continues to throb and ache as you slide on your tights and pull your shirt over your head. You wondered when everything would stop hurting.

Once fully dressed, you turned back towards Kai, prepared to seal the deal and leave this motel room.

Nothing was ever that easy with Kai.

When you’d turned, you were face to face with a knife, held out inches from your face and glimmering in the overhead light. Your eyes zero in on two more people wearing eery clown costumes.

You freeze in place, taking a precautionary step back. A maniacal smile spreads across Kai’s face as the clowns step forward.

“Kai?” you ask softly, raising your shaking hands up in the air to show you weren’t a threat. This was all too good to be true. Who the fuck are they and where did they come from?

“The money? Kai?” you try again, your words only coming out a whisper.

“You get your money, sweetheart,” Kai reassures you and the clowns laugh. He pulls something that looks like a piece of rope from his pocket.

“...But I’m not done with you. Yet.”

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters requests #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters imagine #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #ahs kai anderson #kai anderson smut #kai anderson #kai anderson fan fiction #kai anderson x reader #ahs fanfic #ahsfx #ahs fandom #ahs cult

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definitelynotstable · 8 months

Text

Missed You [Price x fem!Reader]

AN: First Price fic!!! He is literally the loml and I've been too scared to write him so hope I did him justice. Lmk what you think!

Synopsis: You're undercover in Amsterdam when your cover is blown. Injured and alone you try to locate Price and Gaz before it's too late. Hurt/comfort. Word count: 1.6k Warnings: Wounds, blood, medical inaccuracies, canon typical violence and canon divergence. Price x fem!Reader (Callsign: Ferris)

✧˚ · .

You‘d been undercover for months. Months and the intel you’d provided had saved countless lives but undercover work always had an expiry date.

And that date was today apparently.

You knew you were pushing at the boundaries when inquiring after Hassan Zyani. But Laswell seemed desperate and time was tight. But here you were now, soaked to the bone and bleeding out in the middle of Amsterdam. Word was Gaz, Price and Laswell were in the city – you just had to find them before they reached EXFIL.

The sun was getting low in the sky and your short swim in the canal hadn’t exactly warmed you. The cobbled streets were slick underfoot and you hugged the buildings bordering the footpath. Gun shots and screams echoed from the street up ahead and you quickly made your way in the direction of the chaos.

A woman ran into you, blonde hair flapping in the wind. She apologised hastily in both Dutch and English, too distracted to notice as you ease the long coat from her arms. You wait for her to disappear behind a corner before shrugging it on.

There’s a bullet still in your torso somewhere and every movement sends a flash of pain which radiates up through your spine. The coat covers most of the blood which has steadily bloomed across your navy shirt – not quite dark enough to disguise the stain.

You duck behind a tree as more shots ring out. You’re wounded and unarmed – if this isn’t Price, Gaz or Laswell you’re toast.

A man dives past you, tackling a man in a black leather jacket to the ground. He’d wearing a beanie and brown jacket with a woollen collar and a beard – a beard you’d know anywhere. Price.

A man with a darker complexion but similarly dressed, squats next to the two on the ground and injects something into the neck of the man Price is holding down.

Together, the two of them lift him up and you’re able to identify Gaz as well.

“Watcher, time to move.” Price speaks into an earpiece and you step forwards, legs wobbling beneath you. Both men look up as you come out from behind the tree, their target hanging unconscious between them. The captains eyes widen as he sees you. “Ferris?”

He reaches a hand out to steady you, hand landing on your shoulder as his eyes sweep across your form. You breath deeply, pushing away the urge to collapse.

“Yeah,” you manage, “yeah – Laswell said you were in town,” you turn to Gaz and give him a smile, “you too.”

Gaz reaches out and gives you a pat on the arm, “good to see you.”

People are still fleeing the scene and time is limited. Price flicks you a concerned look. “EXFIL isn’t far, think you’ll make it?”

You swallow, mustering up every drop of remaining energy you have before nodding. “Anything for a free ride.”

Price eyes you for a moment before looking at Gaz. “Let’s go.”

You trail him and Gaz down a few streets before you reach a corner where a silver sedan has pulled up. Through slightly fuzzy vision you make out Laswell behind the wheel. Gaz shoves the target into the back seat while Price eases you into the front before joining the two men in the back.

“Kate.” You say to the woman beside you. “Hope this isn’t s rental.”

Her eyes snap down to where your arm is curled carefully around your waist. “Fucking hell, Ferris.”

Gaz leans forward and thumps the back of Laswell’s seat, throwing a worries glance out the back window.

“We gotta go.”

The last door in the back slams and Laswell floors it.

✧˚ · .

It’s dark when the car pulls up to the safehouse ad your head is lolling between the back of the seat and the window. Laswell goes between glancing at you and the road, her spare hand reaching over to grip your knee.

“We’re almost there,” she says, voice calm but you know the coat is no longer hiding the blood. She moves her hand down to cover your own which is definitely not putting enough pressure on the gaping hole in your side.

“John?” She asks, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the man sitting behind you, “Can you reach Ferris? She needs to put pressure on that wound.”

The captain swears under his breath and you groan as the lever to the side is pulled and your seat slides back. A callused hand grips your wrist, pulling your hand aside before replacing it – firmly.

“Ah fuck,” you hiss as the heel of his palm digs in to the wound, you weakly grab at his forearm but it remains solid against you.

“Sorry, love.” Price responds, sounding gruff, “it’s this or bleed out.”

You suck in a sharp breath, “not sure there’s much left anyway.”

Price growls, “how long ago were you hit?”

You glance at Laswell, “When did I call you?”

“Ten-hundred hours,” she replies, glancing at you again, “christ, it’s been that long?”

You don’t respond, you’ve slumped forward, head to the dashboard – out cold.

✧˚ · .

You don’t fully resurface till you’re inside the safehouse. Voices murmur around you and things clatter as someone clears the table – laying you down.

A hand cups the back of your neck.

“Gaz, get us a pillow or something, will ya?”

There’s shuffling sounds and suddenly your head is being lifted and then lowered onto a softer surface.

You blink, shapes and colours hazy in the warm lighting; coming into focus slower than they should. Someone hovers over you, Price.

“Gave us quite the scare.” He says, easing the coat aside to asses the damage. “Surprised you’re not dead.”

“Real helpful,” you cough with a wince, glaring up at him, “just fix me up, won’t you?”

“Working on it.”

Gaz hands him a pair of scissors from the med-kit and he carefully snips away at your shirt.

“Hope this wasn’t a favourite.”

You huff out a laugh, ignoring the ache it ignites. “Hole in it now anyway, and a bit of a stain – if you squint.”

Price chuckles, peeling the fabric away from your bloody skin. “Any exit wound?”

You shake your head, raising an arm to drape over your eyes in order to resist smacking the Captain’s hands away as he douses the wound in an anti-septic solution. You let out a slew of curses under your breath and he raises his eyebrows.

“Quite the vocabulary.”

“You learn a word or too working with smugglers,” you quip back, gritting your teeth.

He thoroughly cleans and sanitises the wound before calling Gaz over. Laswell’s somewhere, probably on a call with the higher ups or interrogating the HVT.

“You’re better than me at this stuff, kid.” Price says, handing the sergeant a pair of gloves and some tweezers, “I’ll hold her down.”

“Fucking hell.” You roll your eyes, lip wedges between your teeth. “I am not looking forward to this.”

Price comes to stand by your head, he swipes a thumb over your lips. “Bite this instead.” He slips something soft between your teeth – his glove.

He moves down the table to stand on the otherside, opposite Gaz. The young sergeant looks up, brow furrowed. “We might need Laswell for this.”

Price shakes his head, “She’s busy, doubting my strength, Gaz?”

“More like overestimating mine,” you scoff, before flashing Gaz an encouraging look. “I’ve lost too much blood to put up much of a fight – have at it Gaz.”

The Captain reaches over and pushes the glove back between your lips. “Bite.” He says sternly, “you’ll need it.”

You glare back at him but comply as he settles an arm across your legs and grasps both your wrists in the other.

Gaz looks to you, “Ready?”

You nod.

✧˚ · .

The pain is white and hot but lasts for only a minute. By the time Gaz has dug out the bullet, you’re panting and sweaty. Tears sting at your eyes as the firm grip on your wrists loosens and a hand comes up to cup your cheek.

“Good job.” Price murmurs, thumb stroking your cheekbone, “That’s my girl.”

Gaz, ever the professional, ignores how your face crumples and you curl into Price’s touch. He instead busies himself with threading a needle before nudging the Captain and offering it to him.

Price takes it, giving him a pat on the back.

“Thanks Gaz.” You mumble hoarsely to the younger man who smiles and tousles your hair as he passes.

“Good to have you back, Ferris.”

With Gaz gone, you turn back to Price, sniffing. He pushes your hair away from your sweaty forehead and kisses your cheek.

“Almost over, love. Just some stitches and you’ll be right as rain.”

You relax against the table. Stitches are a walk in the park compared to earlier.

“Make them neat,” you stress and Price laughs.

“Luckily I had a good teacher.”

He ties off the sutures and dresses the wound before discarding of his latex gloves. He wraps an arm around your waist and eases you up of the table, half-supporting, half-carrying your to a room nearby. He lowers you down onto a single bed in the corner, tucking the covers around you and taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“I missed you.” You confess, eyelids heavy. “So much.”

“Me too.” He admits, eyes creasing with a small smile as a hand cards through your hair. You sigh softly, allowing the rhythmic brush of his hand lull you to sleep. Your eyes have already fluttered shut when he whispers again.

“More than you could imagine.”

✧˚ · .

Masterlist

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #captain price #john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #captain price x female reader #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #141 x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty fluff #cod mw2 #task force 141 #fluff #cod fanfiction

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blossom-works · 7 months

Text

Dad Duties

» Kylian is thankful for his niece and nephew because they prepared him for fatherhood. He knows how to change diapers and how to be patient. Kylian likes to think that he has always been good with kids, but taking care of his own child is something new and grand.

» His time as an uncle did not prepare him for the other things though. Did you know that a baby's first poop when they come out of the womb is called meconium? Cause Kylian certainly didn't know. He freaked out when he saw the tar-like substance in the tiny diaper. You were a bit freaked out too so you asked your nurse.

» The footballer did learn how to change a diaper fast and efficiently. Seriously, his son is like a squirt gun. You have no idea when he chooses to fire it.

» As a joke, you put Matthew in a ninja turtle beanie and turtle shell blanket. Kylian found it so cute that he took a picture and set it as his new wallpaper.

» The first few nights were horrible though. Kylian thought that all Matthew needed was a new diaper and some milk to go back to bed. Oh, how wrong he was. Babies apparently like to stay up for a while before going back to sleep.

» Since you chose to breastfeed Matthew, Kylian feels bad that he can't really do anything during the night. When you're up feeding your son, you might as well change his diaper too. Kylian does tell you to wake him up to put Matthew to sleep, but sometimes you don't listen.

» Baby's first bath went horribly wrong. In Kylian's mind, he thought that he could bathe Matthew as he did with his niece and nephew when they were little. Kylian did not realize that Matthew's first couple of baths needed to be sponge baths because of the umbilical cord. The leftover part needs to dry so it can basically pop off. When you told Kylian this, he kind of just froze in a "Oh shit" type of way.

» Kylian also had no idea how to do a sponge bath for a baby. Help.

» You and Kylian tried breastmilk for the first time too. Don't ask how that happened.

» It takes you and Kylian about two weeks to find some kind of a routine for Matthew. After that, parenting got easier.

» Matthew grew a lot after his first month of being home. He got longer and weighed a little more. It astonishes Kylian at how fast his son is growing. He wishes he could go back to when he first came home with his baby.

» Kylian's family came climbing into your home when Matthew was three weeks old. They were practically fighting to see who gets to hold him first.

» Wilfriend ends up winning and he doesn't let go of his grandson. Fayza has to scold her ex-husband to let everyone else get a turn...Then she hogged Matthew.

» Malisa gave you a lot of pointers as a new mom. Your sisters are back in America so it's good to have someone with you to guide you. Even if they live in the country next to you.

» One time when Matthew was five months old, Kylian asked you to bring him over to the club to meet his teammates. None of them have seen Matthew in person, so imagine a bunch of dudes leering over a baby. Kylian stood on the sidelines with his chest puffed with pride.

» One of Kylian's teammates held Matthew up and aided the kid in making a goal. It was all fun and games until Kylian got upset that he didn't assist with his son's first goal. He got over it eventually when you told Kylian that he could teach Matthew how to score goals better than anyone cause his dad is Kylian Mbappe.

» When you were pregnant with Matthew, you and Kylian agreed to raise your family as humbly as possible. Similar to Gordon Ramsey, when they get to a certain age, your kids will have to either pay for themselves if they want to travel or just not travel at all. They will also be prohibited from using Kylian's private jet when they reach a certain age too.

» Allowances are allowed but to an extent. You really have to be the enforcer on this. Allowance is earned when the kids do their house chores. No chores done, no money given. You forbid Kylian from giving his kids more money than they should be given. Really, you have to be strict on this with your kids and your husband.

» Oh, and as soon as the kids are legally allowed to work, no more allowances. No argument. If they really want something they better work for it. You and Kylian had a similar upbringing so you know the value of money and how to use it responsibly. You want to teach those same values to your children.

» You have to limit Kylian's options for presents though. Sure it's their birthdays and it's Christmas, but don't give the kids a freaking life-size playhouse. Presents are always reasonable and a few of those presents are name brands. If Kylian wants to give the kids something name-branded, it has to pass through you.

» To say Kylian is excited to teach his son how to play football is an understatement. When Matthew was only a couple of months old, Kylian bought a kid's football net and ball. He really wants his son(s) to love the sport and have at least one play professionally. If they don't then so be it. Kylian at least wants to plant the seed.

» At some point, Matthew becomes fascinated with ears. He is either touching his or someone else's ears. He will pull and rub his hands all over the body part.

» His first Father's Day was an emotional one for Kylian. In Spain, Father's Day is always celebrated on March 19th. Matthew is only seven months old so you came up with a cute craft. Using paint you made a shoeprint on one of Kylian's shoes and another on top of it with Matthew's footprint. Next to is a sentence that says, "Following in your footsteps".

» You did all of that while Matthew was napping so he wouldn't be fussy and mess everything up. Smart mom brain.

» Kylian refuses to let the media see Matthew until he is at least one. The first time the world got to see Matthew's face was when Kylian brought him to do the traditional player escort. Matthew stayed with you in the stands after that.

» Matthew was certainly scared when he entered the pitch with his dad. The loud cheering and flashing lights were overwhelming to the boy. He cried on Kylian's shoulder. Kylian was able to calm his son down a little by distracting Matthew with his hands.

» Kylian loves being a father. He has always wanted to be a father and now he is one. It has been a great joy to witness his son grow from inside of you to outside of you. There are certainly things Kylian can do better about his parenting skills. Maybe he can convince you to have another one so Kylian can perfect his parenting skills?

#fanfiction #x reader #football #kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #football imagine #reader insert #dad!kylian mbappe

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itsohh · 1 year

Text

Cold

A/N: G/N reader, so I ended up writing out that idea I had in that one ask I mentioned.

Summary: After being separated from Price during a mission you're left to fend off the freezing cold by yourself. Finally reunited with him, he does everything he can to help warm you up from your hypothermic state.

Word count: 1073

Warnings: Angst

AO3 Masterlist

Radio silent. All he received back was static. The winds howled outside while the snow continued its assault. The pair of you had been separated with the agreement to regroup back at the safe house. A small cabin.

Yet you never came.

John wanted to go out to look for you, to find you and ease the torment in his worried heart. He knew better. With the thick storm around him, it would be pointless. The likelihood of him seeing something even a few metres in front of him was slim to none let alone being able to conduct a proper search.

So, with the fire set up, he stayed at the window. The thermal scope was his only way to see through the thick billowing weather. His hand found the radio once again. "Sergeant, do you read me?" Once again his ears were only met with static. Then he saw something. Almost impossible to see but it was a higher temperature than everything else. Not particularly high but enough for him to notice.

The shape came over the horizon and he could better see it. A person. He had no way of knowing whether or not it was you but that didn't stop him. John slung his gun over his shoulder and headed out into the snow. It made it hard to move, each step slow but he continued on. For the sake of his own safety, he held a pistol in one hand. Just in case.

A breath left his mouth when he finally got close. It was you, that was for sure. He paused only for a second and saw your form. Blood had drained from your face and gave it a rather lifeless blue undertone. Your eyes were hazy, unfocused when they settled on him. What was the most concerning was the fact you had stripped away almost all your clothing only left in your underwear. Gear, guns, all of it gone. "Shit." He swore and holstered his pistol before he took off the gun on his back and then his jacket.

He slung the gun back on and quickly put his long jack over you. Yes, it was cold but he would live. That wasn't a certainty for you at that moment. A whine protested from your lips as he secured the jacket around you. "Stop I don't want it." Your voice slurred out as you made weak attempts to push it away. "It's too hot." Each touch you made against John's skin was like ice and slowly you stopped. No energy to fight.

"Your freezing cold, we need to warm you up." You let out a whine at his voice and slumped against him. How you had managed to walk this far in such a state amazed him and he picked you up in a bridal carry. John knew he had to get you inside as quickly as possible.

John pushed through the snow, you in his arms until he slammed open the cabin door. He closed it behind him with his foot and immediately brought you down in front of the fire. You were still awake and let out a little protest at the fire's warmth. John let go of you for a moment and went to go snatch all the blankets from the bedrooms.

When he came back you had managed to undo part of the jacket and move away from the fire. He came down next to you. "Stop. You need to warm up, that's an order."

"Don't give a fuck 'bout your stupid orders." Almost like it came from a child, your speech barely came out of your mouth and continued your disruptive behaviour. The beanie on his head was ripped off and he put it over your head to try and stop any warmth you gained from leaving your head. John pulled you in-between in legs so that your back made contact with his chest. With you secured, he pulled the blankets around the pair of you and he felt your body go limp against him.

John whispered out your name and your head rolled against his chest. Over your shoulder, he lightly tapped your cheek with his hand. "Hey, hey, hey. Wake up. Don't fall asleep on me." Prices' voice pleaded, begging you. Yet, you gave him no response.

"Bloody fucking hell, don't do this to me. Come on." He held you tighter with one arm. John put his free hand just in front of your mouth and nose where he could only feel the faintest of breaths. "Stay with me, don't stop breathing. Your safe now, just warm up for me. Warm up for me." He spoke to your unconscious body, desperately trying to get keep it together. He knew he had to have a clear mind. To think straight, you were relying on him to do so.

His hand went to your neck to search for a pulse. It was still there but so incredibly slow. John kept his fingers there, a small relief each time he felt that pulse. "If you stay with me here I'll do anything. Just… keep breathing for me." His voice was quiet. John knew you couldn't hear him but hoped perhaps deep down in your unconscious state that it would encourage you to keep fighting.

"I'll force Laswell to finally let us have that time off for our wedding. You wanted the boys there, I'll make sure they can make it. We can go wherever you want, Love." He swallowed and stayed silent for a second when he couldn't feel your pulse. Every second felt like a lifetime and he was just about to move for CPR when he felt that faint pulse. He let out the breath he had been holding and continued.

"Get a month off for a honeymoon. How does that sound? I'm sure you will be sick of me by then." John let out a pained laugh. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, you were still like ice. "I'd never get sick of you. Best thing to ever happen to me. Don't deserve someone like you." He pressed a kiss against your head. "But I'm a selfish man. Let me have this one thing, let me have you by my side. Stay with me."

"I'm a selfish old bastard but don't you go dying on me." John shut his eyes and mentally counted every second between your heartbeats.

"Please."

#price x reader #john price x reader #john price #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #call of duty

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

Calluses on His Gentle Hands

Pairing: Lieutenant John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: John Price was the one to help you up from the concrete corner you had pushed yourself into when the gunfire had started; his hand holds yours like delicate glass despite the hard calluses. Sticking by him seemed like a good idea.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking (implicit), blood, trauma, a small amount of angst, fluff

A/N: Lieutenant John needs some love alright, he’s adorable. Tried to make his characterization slightly different because of the age difference from younger to older Price, but it’s still pretty much the same. Part 2

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

You told him that your name was Bird, but that wasn’t the entire truth – you never claimed to be honest, after all. Standing at the British man’s side, you had your fingers intertwined with the strap of his vest, holding tightly with a white-knuckled grip as your eyes bounced from one stranger to another nervously.

He had said his name was Lieutenant John Price not half an hour earlier – when he offered a hand to you. Your body was on the ground, curled like a feral cat with its back arched, shaking, and sniffing. Breathlessly, you had given your moniker back, not wanting to upset him.

Now, from the corner of the Lieutenant’s dull blue eyes, you could see his gaze watching you, lips lightly held in a thin line with a stiff-straight body. You shuffled farther behind him when another armed man passed, a sharp breath getting sucked into your mouth. You were terrified.

When this strange group of men raided the warehouse, you had expected to die along with the other women and your captures in the gun battle. You had heard the screams from your cell through the concrete above your head; seen many of the men run down the hallway outside your barred door, throwing terrified glances behind them. Like they were running from something right on their heels, eyes so wide the whites were showing starkly in the dim light.

They didn’t make it very far before their corpses hit the floor, the shots fired from a gun just out of view. The soldiers had opened the cells after – all of them – and the women had sung praise, thanking them with shaking hands and tight embraces. But you had stayed, curled up in the corner, shaking.

Until John.

“Ma’am,” He had said, kneeling on one leg while the other clutched his M16 to his chest, the muzzle still smoking, “I’m Lieutenant John Price in Command of Unit Bravo. You’re safe now.”

Unit Bravo? Safe? You had wondered, looking up at the man with confusion, How can I be safe?

Nonetheless, when he offered you a hand, you had taken it, looking in awe at how gently he gripped your limb in his own; John’s hand completely swallowed yours, and yet you felt like delicate glass in his grip. It was almost embarrassing how fast you had glued yourself to his side from then on, but you couldn’t help it. His hold had been so kind depside his calluses…you had never experienced that before.

It had been a while since you’d been outside, everything felt so…big as you looked at it. It didn’t help that it was night, either. The shadows danced over every corner, the streetlights illuminating only tiny circles along the deserted warehouses.

Your fingers shake as you once more tighten your grip on John’s vest strap, peering around his large frame hesitantly as everyone else was corralled into large black and tan vehicles.

“Bird,” John mutters, turning his head with poise to look over his shoulder at you, the tan beanie covering his brown hair as it sits lightly on his scalp, “You should go with the others. Get those cuts looked at, yeah?”

All you do is stare at him, watching the light reflect off his iris as the stubble along his jaw shifts when his lips pull into a frown. You’re fascinated by how he talks to you so softly, tone breathy yet gruff as if anything above a whisper would break you. Maybe, you tell yourself, it would.

You didn’t doubt that you looked like hell.

John’s hands tighten over his M16, one resting along the body and the other held at the ready by the trigger. This wasn’t supposed to be his job – he was here with Execute Authority for a known human trafficker with ties to a foreign terror organization – he’s not supposed to act as a bodyguard for CIVs.

Your flinch at the loud noise of one of the Humvee doors being slammed shut, face scrunching up as your eye partially closes. John’s chest tightens, face turning to the soldier in his unit who was walking past, and a wave of anger filters through his blood before he quiets it with a huff.

The target was already dead – the threat neutralized…so why did he feel so unaccomplished? Why did he feel antsy when someone made you flinch? Your hand on his vest radiates body heat as it shifts its hold, and behind him, he feels you move slightly closer like you were trying to disappear into him. He knows your eyes are wide with fear.

“Hm,” He grunts, eyes moving from one packed Humvee to another. Everyone was nearly packed up and ready to move out, only a few soldiers waiting for his signal.

With his fingers drumming over his weapon, his body moves before his mind can catch up.

You let out a squeak when John’s frame turns, and you release the vest strap in confusion before letting your hands wrap around your middle. Taking a tiny step back when you realize how close you two have become, the Lieutenant speaks with a tilted down head.

“You gonna ride with me, then?” He begins, his feet moving the weight of him from one hip to another, legs shoulder length apart, “Long way back to base, Ma’am,” He moves his head as if to clarify, “You sure you don’t want to be with your friends?”

You blink before your tiny voice wavers, “Yes,” out into the cold air before an even smaller, “Please,” follows a moment later.

Not a second later, given only a firm nod and a narrowed glance, Price’s hand lays a small distance above your shoulder blades, guiding you gently to his Humvee down the road. Looking behind him, he raises his other hand in the air and points a finger, making it circle twice in the air.

Engines rumble to life, and the remaining soldiers that were watching all scramble over to the sides of their vehicles; grasping the handles. They disappear moments later into the interior.

“Pothole,” John grunts at your side, startling you out of your daze. He doesn’t look at you, “Watch your feet.”

You peek down just in time to be able to extend your gait, planting a bare foot on the other side of a large hole in the ground. Sparing the handsome man beside you a glance, you feel a small smile tug at your bitten lips.

“Thank you,” You say, blinking up at him as he towers beside you like a sentinel. The sides of his eyes soften, and a small, nearly unnoticeable, twitch of his lips makes your heart beat faster. You can’t help but think a smile would look absolutely dashing on him.

You look away before your face can get any hotter, but you’re sure the man saw the way you kept sneaking ogling looks at him as you walked on.

“This way, Love,” John utters, and soon you’re being helped into the back of a vehicle with warmth in your veins, the Lieutenant’s hand holding the door open behind you. You feel his free hand outstretched near your back to make sure you don’t fall, ghosting over the thin material of your shirt. Shivering, you can’t play this one off on the cold.

“Cadet,” He commands when you are seated fully inside, sending a glance over your body as he hops in. John sits beside you and, on the floor, your ankles crossed, “Move out. I want us back on base in the next two hours. I expect a full medical team to meet us on the Tarmac, clear?”

“Sir.”

The Humvee pulled forward, the metal under your feet shaking as pebbles and debris hit it. About ten minutes into the drive you had spaced out, your hands clenched in your lap as you stare out the window with wonder.

On the side of your face, you feel his gaze, staring at you with those blue eyes of his with a muted wonder, and against your better judgment, your lips shift to ask a question.

“You didn’t expect us to be there…did you?” Blinking over at John, he sits stiffly upright in his seat, body heat encapsulating you as he meets your eyes. His arm lightly brushes your own when the vehicle jerks, sending sparks up your skin in its wake. The Lieutenant’s presence didn’t make you afraid of him, nor does his touch – and that alone made you happy. You decided you quite liked John, with all of his gruffness and strong arms. He was kind to you, and his hands were warm. That was really all that mattered.

“I had intel,” He hums his response, sighing and quirking a brow, his lips pulling into a frown despite the soft-looking skin of his face. His chest rumbles with his low tone, “Yeah, load of bullshit, that was. You weren’t supposed to be there, no. No one was beside the target.”

You’re aware of the looseness of your muscles, your body comfortable in its seat as you play with your fingers, feeling the peeled skin around your nail.

“I’m glad I was,” You sputter at the creasing of Price’s eyebrows, a narrowed glance laced with confusion. With your chest lurching you continue, embarrassed, “There, I mean. I’m glad I was there. You got me out... you…you got them out.” Motioning behind you, you know he understands you’re talking about the other women trailing behind.

John stares at you with half his head turned away, jaw slacked as if he had never expected to be thanked for what he did. His eyes snap from one part of your face to another as he gazes down at you, dark eyelashes caressing his cheeks. Price looks comedically stumped – not knowing what to say. You can’t help the smile that blossoms over your lips before you turn back to the window watching the quiet world zip past.

You arrive at the base with no further interactions, only sitting in silence with the occasional sneaky glance when the other wasn’t looking. John went around you to open the door when the Humvee came to a stop, thumping down to the ground before turning mechanically. He offers a hand up with a tiny nod, his other holding his gun steady; only after a second of hesitation you silently take it, fingers splaying over his palm before wrapping around his skin. You hope you don’t have to let go anytime soon.

“Steady, Love,” John huffs, settling a hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over as you stumble. Black dots dance in your vision and you wanted more than anything a good meal and a soft bed to fall into. You blink rapidly as Price continues, “There you go. Now, let’s get those cuts looked at, yeah?”

You hadn’t bothered to think about the thin injuries over your cheeks and forehead, made by blunt nails and bruises left by fists, at the time being concerned over them felt silly. Strange men were breaking you out of your hell, and worrying over cuts was at the back of your mind. But now John brings you over across the paved ground as the rest of the vehicles pull into the base, hand at first trying to slip away until your grip tightens fearfully. He doesn’t comment, just fixes his hold and walks with you to a group of men and women who come rushing out of the large building ahead. Your feet lightly dig into the ground as you suck in a slow breath.

“Lieutenant,” A woman asks, her boots slapping to the floor, “I was told it was urgent.”

“Upwards of fifteen CIVs,” John walks past, bringing you closer to his side as you swallow nervously at the number of people around you, hand going to wrap around your waist. Your skin feels hot, “All women with wounds spanning from minor abrasions to open injuries. Cadet Percy can explain more,” The Lieutenant pauses before turning around to look at everyone, “I only want female nurses and doctors working on them, Rog?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Hm,” John grunts, moving you quickly into the interior of the building and down a couple of hallways until you reach a wooden door. Your body had melted into his strong chest by now, not bothered by the packs and hard places in his vest; you had slept in worse places. Fatigue had come to put its weight on your shoulders as adrenaline leaves you high and dry.

“‘M tired,” You mutter, a hand coming to rub at your eye sockets before your fingers catch on a piece of cut skin above your eyebrow. Hissing, John's hand comes to clasp yours, pulling it away firmly from your flesh so you don’t make the injury bleed.

“I know,” He says, locking his eyes with yours, “almost done, Bird. Just stay awake a little longer for me, eh?”

Price releases your hand as you stay transfixed by his blue eyes, seeing the small flashes of starlight as the overhead lights buzz in your ears. You nod shyly, eyes innocently wide.

The large man pushes open the wooden door with a shoulder and moves you inside, directing you over to a small hospital bed in the middle of the room. You sit down silently. On his chest you watch his radio come to life and see John tense as he runs a hand over his jaw.

Looking around quickly, his head locks onto a moving metal medical table as he presses down on the device. A loud voice comes through.

“Lieutenant,” A masculine tone echoes through the tiled room, and you bring your legs up to rest on the mattress, folded beside you. Watching carefully, you feel curiosity enter your veins as you follow the man zip from one location to another, placing multiple medical items on the table and setting his gun down against the wall.

“Yes, Captain MacMillan, Sir?”

“I don’t see you on the Tarmac with your men. Where are you? I want a briefing on the mission...and why the hell are there CIVs here, Son?”

John grabs a wrap of stark white gauze, looking back at you as you tilt your head in question. Your eyes crease.

“I don’t want to keep you,” You blink away your tiredness, “You have more important things to do.” Attempting to convince him, you send a smile over.

Price frowns, eyes narrowing as he places the gauze down and rolls the table over. Its tiny wheels squeak horrendously, making your ears twitch.

“Lieutenant? I repeat, where are you, soldier?”

“The mission was a success, Sir, the target was eliminated,” John, stone-faced, says into the radio, “I’m tending to a CIV in the medical ward of building number five. I’ll be done in twenty.”

“Lieutenant Price, I want you out here right now,” Your eyes widen chest tightening at the loud tone. John huffs, a hand coming to push his beanie down further over his head, “That’s an order–”

That’s when John pulls the wire on top of his radio out, picks it up in his large fingers, and grabs the microphone that hooks around his ear. He tosses them both down to the table with a clenched jaw as you watch, blinking in surprise. When you feel his eyes on you, your face turns up with a slack jaw.

“Well,” You stutter, face feeling warm, “I…suppose that’s one way to do it. But won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“Humph,” John grunts, grabbing a disinfectant wipe with surety as he rips open the plastic protector around it, “Let him bloody try.”

He readies the wipe in one of his hands, the other coming up to your jaw. When you tense he freezes, but soon the hesitance from you leaks away the motion returns to his limb; his fingers come to grab at your chin, gently holding your head in place softly. When you place more weight into his hold and release a deep-chested sigh he quirks an eyebrow.

“This might sting, Doll,” John whispers.

“That’s alright,” You mutter back, staring into his beautiful eyes as the wipe comes into view in the side of your vision, “Not your fault.”

He only releases a puff of air from his lips before adding the smallest amount of pressure to your forehead, running the wipe over the red flesh.

His eyes squint when he’s focused, You find, and clutch the knowledge like a precious jewel to your heart. No one had been this delicate with you since…well, you couldn’t really say.

This carries on for a good while – him cleaning your wounds – and at some point, your eyes started drooping against your will. You had never fallen asleep in the presence of a man before, you were always so afraid of what would happen, but John was warm. Safe.

You had never felt safe before; a blanket of calm wrapped around your shoulders stemming from calloused fingers and a caress of warm hands.

You felt his grip on your chin tighten momentarily, prompting you to slip one eye open.

“Still with me?” He asked, pausing to bend down slightly.

“For now,” Your eyes flicker, lids heavy like they were tied with bricks.

“...Nearly done,” John mutters, but you feel him watching, listening to the beat of his pulse as the blood pumps in his flesh under your chin, “Then I’ll let you rest. No one else’ll come into this room ‘cept me, yeah?”

“Mhm,” grunting out a response, your hands in your lap move to cover the yawn trying to escape your lips, pulling your head back to duck it. Immediately, you miss the grip on your chin with a deep ache.

John pulls you back with his hands on your shoulders when you’re done, tilting his head down and letting his eyes slide over your cleaned cuts and bruises.

“Let me see you, Bird,” Smiling slightly you face him head-on, tilting your head comedically, “Ah,” The Lieutenant nods his head slowly, face attractively close, “there she is.”

Your eyes snap to the floor in embarrassment, the eye contact making your face feel like it was being held to an open fire. A deep rumble of a chuckle escapes the soldier in front of you, bouncing off the walls and his hands drop slowly to his sides. Your heart skips a beat.

“Will…Will you be back soon?”

John shuffles his feet shoulder length apart, crossing his arms over his chest, “...Do you want me to come to see you?” He asks.

“Yes!” You all but whip your head up, eyes lighting with surety as the man looks at you in shock, “I…I feel safe with you. And I don’t know anyone else here besides the other women.” Your voice trails off the farther it gets into the sentence, but you know he heard you regardless.

A moment passes where you think he’ll deny you, and you hope you won’t show the disappointment and fear on your face when he does.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Blinking, you lock onto his frame, his body only a few feet away. A smile blossoms over his lips and you freeze. You were right, you think to yourself as your eyes lighten, a smile did suit him. Dumbly, you answer.

“O-okay.”

“I’ll be back in thirty,” John nods his head, handsome smile gone as fast as it was there, “If anything goes wrong,” He pulls a spare radio from his back pocket, walks over to you, and holding it out, shows a button on the side of the device, “Press down and speak. The channel is already linked to mine, so don’t mess with it too much.”

You nod and watched as John keeps his eyes locked with yours with what you thought to be more than normal. Not that you minded, you just stared right back. Shaking himself out of whatever stupor had overtaken him, the Lieutenant pulls back and grabs his dismantled radio from the medical table, clipping the wire back and hooking the microphone over his ear with effectiveness. In no time he was making his way over to the door, hand grasping the knob and twisting.

He hesitates.

“Call for whatever reason, Love,” John looks over his shoulder at you and you clutch the radio a little tighter to your chest, “No matter how small.”

And with that, he stalks out the door and closes it softly. You hear his footsteps gradually getting quieter as he leaves. With a smile, an idea pops into your head, and with a gleeful expression, you press down the radio button.

Hearing the static you wait only a second before speaking into it, voice hushed.

“Thank you, John.”

A moment.

Two.

“Copy, Bird…Get some rest. That’s an order.” A smile blossoms as you fall back into the mattress holding the radio in hand. Your chest felt abnormally light, but you knew why this time.

Safety to you was calloused fingers – warm hands that have scars along the skin; holding you delicately. Safety to you was John Price.

You couldn’t wait until you saw that beautifully kind man again.

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