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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 months

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All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 11)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 5.2 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - No major warnings this chapter. smoking, swearing, British slang, relationship drama and personal angst. Also, some emotional manipulation from Price because he's like that

Summary:

They've kissed, what the hell do they do now?

Rory and Price deal with the giant elephant in the room and it does not go smoothly

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

(starting the tag list late with this fic sorry)

taglist: @carlosoliveiraa @cassietrn @finding-comfort-in-rain @justasmolbard @cloudofbutterflies92 @amalkavian @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @marivenah @v01dthefae @clicheantagonist @statichvm @josephseedismyfather @la-grosse-patate @peachiicherries @strangefable @nightbloodbix @theelderhazelnut

The steam curled out from around the door, misty vapor pouring across the floor and floating up through the opened window into the frosty night. Stepping out of the bathroom, the cool air hit her and goosebumps speckled her still damp skin. Her hair dripped, trails of water rolling down her chest and past the edge of the towel wrapped around her, the bruises on her face and neck steadily growing more visible with all the blood removed. Price’s gaze fell on her, lifting from the tablet he’d been trying to focus his attention on. His eyes lingered just a little too long, only to quickly rush back down to the screen in his lap as her stare – marred by sore, red rings under her eyes – fell upon him.

Rory held the towel around her and moved to the foot of her bed to take a seat, sinking into the mattress as heavy as a rock. Beads of water trailed down her shoulders and back as she slipped her panties up her legs and under the terry cloth wrapped around her. Looking back at him from over her heavily bruised shoulder, she shook her head as she lifted her hips. “You know, you don’t have to look at me like I’m entirely fragile.”

“I’m not.” His voice was deep, made heavier by the nearly oppressive weight that hung in the room.

“Is that so?”

Sighing, she moved to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers, climbing in under them and tossing the damp towel to the foot of her bed. Rolling over so her back was turned to him, the sheets clung to her still damp skin as she looked out the window at the hint of the city skyline and the twinkling lights that cut through the darkness. She tried to shut her eyes, to keep her breathing slow and steady, even as her throat continued to sting and scratch, but it did little good. The adrenaline might have drained from her system, but that sense of fear still remained. What had happened, even with the shower washing away the last reminders of it, wouldn’t leave her. The taste of blood, the metallic tang, remained in her mouth no matter how many times she brushed her teeth – though that may have been her own bleeding gums at this point. The feeling of hands around her throat, the sensation of choking, fighting for her last gasps haunted each and every rasping breath she still took. The vision of dark eyes staring into hers with no remorse, belonging to a man who had taken lives before and had never let it hinder his mind, if he even had a conscience to begin with. She had never felt so weak, so powerless in all her life. She had always overcome everything that crossed her path. Every loss, every obstacle she managed to power through. A determined woman who stopped at nothing in her career, doing the things others wouldn’t to get the job done. Yet tonight she almost died. Too confident in her own abilities.

The neon light from the sign outside the window flashed through the thin skin of her eyelids and it made her stomach twist. Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, the phosphenes danced in a bath of red. Her fingers gripping at the cool material of the pillowcase her head rested upon. Somewhere, right now, Zorokov was in a hospital bed getting treatment. Patched up, left with a physical scar as a reminder of what happened when he tried to kill a special forces soldier with his bare hands. She, on the other hand, would have to live with the near-death experience in silence. The bruises would fade, her throat would stop aching, but the memories would live on forever. Trapped inside to swirl within the walls of her skull until the moment of her last breath. God, she wished she went with a better choice of words.

Her breath shook as she swallowed back the wave of anger that simmered through her. It was as if she was going through the stages of grief all within the confines of her safehouse bed. The turmoil of having to deal with people’s reactions to what she had been through crawled into the back of her head, knowing there would be yet more therapy for her after the Captain’s mission report was complete. Pity. Remorse . A look people gave that she hadn’t been able to escape since she was fourteen years old at her mother’s funeral. Told over and over again how she had everyone’s condolences. Forced to recall how everyone would look at her as two stereotypes in one: the sad, little rich girl and the broken soldier. Add on top of all that the swell of embarrassment that infected her, dreading the coming conversation the next morning, having to face the fact she had made a move on Price like nothing at all had happened that night. Hell, maybe it was just the stress. She certainly hadn’t been acting like herself since the start of this mission. What was it about him that made her stop thinking clearly and act so impulsively?

A bundle of raw nerves, exposed, stinging with the slightest touches of air. Pulling the covers up tighter over her shoulder, keeping the night air off her, she tried to bury herself under the blankets, staving off the darkness that wanted to settle upon her – what little good it did. The shivering didn’t seem to want to stop, a trembling that had moved past just her hand and arm and now shook her entire body. Suffering in self-imposed isolation. No one wanted to know the things that hurt her inside, not when she could carry on, slap a smile on her face and pretend she was alright while burying herself in work. That was the Rory Sinclair way and it had gotten her this far. Why fix what wasn’t broken? Or maybe she was just too broken to fix.

Price couldn’t help but watch her. Laying across from him, only feet away. That protective instinct kicking in like she was his to look after. He had fallen for the ‘Lamb’ and was suddenly treating himself like the sheepdog who needed to keep her safe from the wolves – despite how she belonged right along with them. Every part of him begged to wrap around her, to shield her, and remind her she wasn’t alone. But his mind, the logical and sound part of him, the part that controlled every muscle in his body, restricted him to his own bed, refusing to allow his emotions to override its authority. He was a captain, goddammit, he couldn’t just give in to his desire like that. Didn’t change the fact that it was a special kind of torture having to stand by and watch her shoulders lift and fall with each breath, every little shift of her head against the pillow as she tried to settle squeezing at his gut. Trying to sleep off what had happened like it was a bad hangover, closing off from what had actually happened to her. She didn’t have to act like it was nothing, that she was perfectly fine. He would understand if she needed the release. He had seen soldiers go through horrible things, left changed by it, waking up in cold sweats either reminded of a friend they lost in a battle or one of the many things they had been forced to do in the line of duty – innocent lives they couldn’t protect, those they had to let fall by the wayside to save others. It was never an easy thing to move past and he was aware she had already carried a burden on her shoulders and in her head.

He needed her to trust him, to rely on him, to know that he would never let any harm befall her like this again. It was only right. This was his mission to lead, it would be a failing to let her fall prey to the viciousness of the world. Someone soft like her needed to be guarded, lest she be broken entirely.

Placing the tablet on the table beside him, he slowly pulled away from his bed. His brain rapidly fired at him every reason why he should stop, turn around and just go to sleep. How the mission was more important. How she would pull through. Redirecting his thoughts to the moral dilemma of it all as her superior officer. How getting close to her was wrong, how it was dangerous, how it could be the downfall of his entire career – but none of that much mattered to him now, not as he drew nearer to her bed. There was a small portion of the double she was resting in left available, the cold shoulder of the mattress, an empty spot begging to be filled by his warm body. Biting his lip, he ran through a list of pros and cons of his next move and then made the snap judgement to lay on the bed beside her.

She tensed as he got close, going as rigid as she had when he had first found her. Rory was as stiff as a board as his arm wrapped over her, pulling her into him as his broad body curled around her. Finally, allowing herself to settle against the curve of him, a quiet sigh was breathed out into the room. “Thought you said we’d leave this for the morning?”

He knew he was sending her every mixed signal, confusing the poor woman when she was still coming to terms with what had happened, but he couldn’t help himself. The sound of her strained breathing in his ear, the gasps and groans over the comms, they replayed over and over again in his head like a haunting song. He hadn’t realized just how much it had affected him all the same. He had dealt with fear and stress, listened to the wails of people in pain, those last gasps of someone’s dying breaths, but hearing her fighting for life cut through deeper than any of those sounds ever could.

“Maybe I’m not quite ready to do that.”

Tugging her arm free of the blankets, her hand trailed down the length of his forearm until she met his hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Her touch was so light it was barely there at all as her fingertips grazed over him. He had forgotten just how smooth and slender she was, how soft her skin felt. Looking down at their entwined hands, he noticed how his seemed to swallow the entirety of hers as he held it tight, fitting together perfectly. Rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, feeling all the little tendons that she used to precisely control her weapons, he lowered his head and pressed his nose into her hair, nuzzling against her, choking back a soft groan. Being beside her was no longer enough for him, he needed more. He craved her.

Turning over in bed to face him, her eyes rolled slowly up to stare at him, deep and dark in the night, doe-like as she looked up at him through her lashes. Her hand trailing back up his arm, then over his shoulder, and cradling his face in her palm. So gentle, maybe more than a man like him deserved, certainly more than he expected from a woman who clawed herself to safety. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, his forehead pressed to hers. “I know we shouldn’t,” he spoke in a quiet husky whisper. “We could both lose everythin’, but –”

Rory’s fingertips drifted through the whiskers on his jaw, until her thumb rested over his lips. Silencing him. She pressed her head to his chest, under his chin, and she didn’t move, simply resting there. “That's just the guilt talking.” Her voice was still hoarse, raspy and low.

Brow furrowing, the lines in his face grew as deep as the pit in his stomach. It wasn't that, he was sure of it. Positive. It was her . He wanted her. His hand came to the back of her neck, giving it a tender squeeze. Protective . “I wish I'd been there to make that bastard pay. Hearin’ that fear in your voice…I wanted to tear him limb from limb,'' he growled.

She sighed. “Didn't think I could defend myself, huh?”

Price exhaled slow and deep, his breath fanning through her chestnut hair. He would never admit that. She didn’t deserve to be questioned like that; her skills disregarded. She was a soldier; a veteran like him. But there was still that nagging part of him that just wanted to keep her safe at all costs. “You’re under my command. ’S my job to keep you alive.”

Shaking her head, she huffed out a laugh. “Do you also cuddle up to everyone under your command?”

He lifted his brow and looked down at her, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “That one seems to be reserved solely for you, love.”

Her eyes widened. Dark, puffy circles gave her raccoon eyes as she looked up at him. “ Love ? That’s not exactly professional.”

“No, ’s not.”

With an exasperated sigh, she ran a hand down her face and muttered under her breath, “This is such a fucking mess.”

She was right. It was. They had gotten attached. Rules were bending. He had already broken protocol by taking command of an SRR operator and letting her march herself into the middle of a lion’s den. He had made this all personal after promising he wouldn’t let their past compromise the work. It should have been easy to just cut himself off, to not get tied up in whatever he was feeling – he did it with everything else – but he couldn’t justify doing it with her.

“I know this isn’t perfect. ’S hardly some fuckin’ Hollywood romance, but the thought of losin’ you …couldn’t live with it.”

Rory went quiet for too long, silence cast over the room like being in the eye of a storm and he had no shelter to hide in. Left out in the open, vulnerable to attack. His heartbeat started to pick up.

“If I hadn’t already dealt with him, you would have killed Zorokov.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, as if she already knew the answer.

His jaw clenched, flexing all the little tendons in his neck, his nose scrunching as he pursed his lips slightly. Christ, this was the last thing he needed . A low growl emanated from deep in his chest and up to his throat. “I would’ve done it ‘cause he fuckin’ deserved it.”

“Because he hurt me?”

He sighed again, brushing his fingers through the soft, slowly drying hair that had begun to form tousled waves. “Yeah, Rory, ‘cause he hurt you.”

A gentle smile pulled at the corners of her lips, the first time he’d properly seen her smile in hours and his whole heart seemed to melt at the sight. She was goddamn beautiful .

“You know that goes beyond what a CO is supposed to feel for one of his soldiers, yeah?” She looked up at him, pulling the blanket tighter to her chest. “That if the brass heard that they’d strip you of everything?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his eyes lifting to look at the ceiling. “I know.”

“I’m not worth it, John. I can promise you that.”

He curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Why don’t you leave that up to the Captain to decide, eh?” He pulled her in closer to him, letting her head rest against his chest once more as he leaned down and pressed his chin to the top of her head.

This was better. This was how it was supposed to be. Nothing could hurt her now, not with him around…

… This was all moving faster than he could control …

He was making a decision for himself that could have long lasting and dire effects. And yet, it was the mere thought of her pain earlier that night that made him feel entirely justified in doing this. She could have died. It was a very probable outcome that might have been a reality if she hadn’t fought for her life. Hearing that rasp in her voice only made the sounds of her choked noises replay in his head once more. She needed him. He needed her . Damn the consequences.

Sometime in the middle of the night, after resting up against the almost too calmly beating heart of Price, listening to his god-awful loud snoring, her eyes had finally shut. Falling asleep, giving into what her body needed desperately. Rest.

Peace.

Wrapped in his arms – the arms of her Captain, her superior – she had somehow found a safe haven after all she had been through. The nightmares still came, she still kicked out in her sleep, tossing and turning under the covers, the cold sweat dampening her skin and the sheets, but then strong arms would circle around her, pulling her towards him again while half asleep. Body heat reminded her that it was all over, that she wasn’t alone, and in this state, she gave in, stopped fighting – submitted.

It was hauntingly quiet, in the room and outside. like waking up in a fog, the noise was blanketed. Even the thoughts in her head had paused their neurotic rotations. Outside the window, the dark of night had passed and the lights of the windows had all gone out. It was just dim and gray, lifeless. Her hopelessness from the night before seemingly permeated the very world around her, seeping out into the sky and the ground, turning the coming dawn barren.

Each little movement of hers caused Price’s mustache to twitch and she found herself simply watching him as she lay pressed against his rigid form of muscle. Waking up in the same bed as the man who gave her orders, who was responsible for the success of the mission she had been selected for, who had left her alone in that bathroom stall after they had agreed to a one-time thing and parted ways was an odd sensation. Yet here she was, spooned up against him as if they had been lovers for years. Strangely intimate, yet wildly awkward. A walk of shame would likely have been easier on her heart and on her head. This was radically out of her comfort zone.

She pulled away as he continued to sleep, trying her best to free herself of the big bear hug of Captain John Price, and the near sweltering heat she felt as guilt and nerves all started to twist at her for what she had done. There wasn’t even sex involved this time. It was more innocent than that and yet the weight of her actions was more vividly clear. This was more dangerous. This was vulnerability. This was feelings and emotions and trust, and it was something she wasn’t so sure she was ready to give or even offer someone. Least of all, someone whose entire life might be upheaved along with hers if they gave into whatever it was that was happening between them.

Slipping out from the blankets, she crossed the room to where her black duffel still sat waiting for her, checking for her pack of cigarettes. Tossing clothes aside, rummaging in as deep as the bottom, but she couldn’t find them. “Goddammit,” she rasped under her breath, combing her fingers through her hair as she tried to retrace her steps. Hardly a simple task when she’d been borderline catatonic as she was brought into the room last night. Sitting on the foot of her bed, pressing the butts of her palms to her eyes. She could barely remember much of anything at all, time slipping from her in that blank space between the attack and winding up with her mouth on Price’s. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Price’s snoring came to a stuttering stop and his eyes slowly opened, smacking his lips after having his mouth hanging open for half the night. “Rory?” Her hands were quick to slip from her face and she turned to find him staring at her groggy, his fingers running through his bedhead. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Can’t find my fags.”

“They're on the nightstand. Brought ‘em in and put ‘em down for you.”

She sighed. “Thank you.”

His hand patted at the nightstand and grabbed her pack of cigarettes and lighter, tossing them towards her at the end of the bed. “Sleep alright, sweetheart?”

“Eventually.” She swiped up the cigarettes and the lighter and placed one between her lips, lighting its tip as she inhaled sharply. The cold air brushed against her flesh, a shiver coursed down her back, and she realized that the only thing covering her were her panties as she sat on the towel she had tossed there last night. Swallowing thickly, she turned once more to catch Price’s eyes on her figure, but he no longer seemed embarrassed being caught by her. “I suppose I should put some clothes on, eh?”

“You don’t have to on my account.”

Rory laughed and the smoke sputtered out of her mouth, coughing a few times to clear her lungs.

“What? I’m serious.” His grin grew and every line on his face came to life with the same warmth his eyes had.

“Of course you are,” she said, giving him a sideways glance and a smirk.

“It's not like I haven’t seen you –”

“I’m aware.” Her tone was short, cutting him off before he could dig the grave any deeper for himself.

The silence reappeared in the room, and Price’s heavy swallow seemed to fill the entire space. She was sure he was trying to find the next thing to say that wouldn’t be some bullshit sympathetic platitudes he already knew she wouldn’t want to hear, the same way he wouldn’t.

“Still sore?” he asked, head tipping to the side.

“Yeah…” She took a long drag of her cigarette as she hunched her shoulders, elbows resting on her knees. Surprised by the shock of warm, rough hands rubbing at the bare skin of her back. She stiffened and stood up like a shot, staring back at the Captain, her arm covering her topless chest. “Dammit, John!”

Stepping away from him, her feet dragging through the carpet, he looked back at her with a little smirk, his hands lifted in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes flared with anger, not from the actual move itself but from being caught off guard.

“I just wanted to help, Rory.”

Bringing the cigarette to her lips again, she let it rest there as she rubbed at her brow once more. “We – we can’t be doing this.”

“Need I remind you, you’re the one who kissed me.” His head tipped forward, steely eyes peering out from under his brow at her.

She pulled the cigarette from her lips and wisps of smoke trailed over her full lower pout. “Yes, I bloody know I did that.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” She answered instantly, the frustration disappearing from her tone as she looked down at the floor.

“So then what’s the problem?”

“You’re my superior, John! The morals and ethics are –” She looked up at him and his brow was lifted. Okay, fair. Breaking the standards of morals and ethics seemed to hardly be a problem for either of them, and yet this one was a rule she couldn’t seem to break. Not because it was wrong, but because it was him. The idea of giving him a reason to regret all this was a giant obstacle her mind refused to leap over. She had dealt with more than enough people up and leaving her in life, she couldn’t get close just for it to happen once more.

“Are what?”

“I am your subordinate, John. We promised each other we could be professional. We have to keep that promise. We have a mission to complete, the mission comes first.”

“Sure. But what about after?” He sat forward, resting his forearm on his thigh.

“I go back to desk duty with the SRR and you fight the threats.”

“No.”

“No?” Her eyes widened, surprised by his overly brusque denial of the situation. “Care to clarify that, Captain?”

“It doesn’t just end like that, darlin’. Not after what happened.”

“John…” Her voice was quiet, almost pleading for him to see sense.

He grabbed one of his cigars from the bedside table, clipped it, and flicked back the lid of his lighter. The chime of metal filling the quiet he left lingering as he lit the end. That burning orange glow at the tip as bright and clear as his intentions towards her now. He placed the lighter back on the table, his palm resting on it for a moment before turning to face her once more, barely restrained anger held in his clenched jaw. Anger she knew wasn’t really directed at her. “I let you march your pretty arse into danger and for what? Used you like bait, like a bloody tool, and it nearly cost you your life. You deserve better than that. The dress, the makeup, shouldn’t have wasted that on a bastard like Zorokov. Could’ve been you and me… still could.”

Rory huffed out a laugh. “The dress. Andrew…” She had been right about the way he was looking at her, the way he had been acting. “You were jealous, weren't you?”

Smoke drifted from his mouth in a thick cloud. “Of course I was bloody jealous, Rory. Look at you, can you really blame me? I've been with my fair share of women, but Jesus, none of them can hold a match to you, my girl.”

“ Your girl?” Her other arm crossed over her chest; the cigarette held between her fingers burning away.

“Listen, I've been trying my damnedest to keep my composure here. You think I went into this expecting to have this happen with my subordinate? 'S rule number one and I'm here breaking it for you.” He sighed. “I had to listen to you in my fuckin’ ear, Rory. It was a goddamn nightmare.”

He stepped closer to her, his height towering over her and she felt miniscule in that moment. She had always stood her ground, remained confident, nothing and no one seemed to intimidate her. His body heat radiated off of him like a furnace and she wanted that safety of being in his arms, but she couldn’t bear the feeling of being weak. She wasn’t gentle, she wasn’t needy, she wasn’t the lamb… she wasn’t .

“And so what, you want to have that be the foundation for a relationship? The fact that I nearly died and you had to pull me out of there? That’s the foot you want to start on? It’s like I said last night, John. This is a dangerous game to be playing and I am not worth the trouble. I’m not worth your career.”

“And why’s that, eh?” He leaned forward, his brows lifting causing his forehead to crease.

“I’m a fucking mess, that’s why. I’ve got nightmares, anxiety attacks, tremors, flashbacks. I’m in no place to start anything with anyone. And certainly not with someone who’s life could be upended because of me.”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged and gave a slight thrust of his pelvis as he crossed his arms over his chest. Obstinate, pigheaded right to the bitter end, refusing to back down from anything. This was Captain John Price type behavior through and through.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t care’?”

“You think all that’s gonna keep me away from you?”

“Well it should.”

“Why?” He lowered his head, looking up at her through his brow. Constantly challenging her.

“Trust me, after several nights of no sleep from me waking up with nightmares, you’ll understand.”

His eyes narrowed for a brief moment, the crow's feet by his eyes creasing. “Someone else left you ‘cause o’that?”

Rory grimaced and bit down on her molars. Her eyes fell to the floor as she turned her head away from him. She didn’t have to say anything, her body language gave it all away.

Price’s face darkened at her reaction, the look of a man planning on hunting down and teaching whoever it was that did that to her a lesson. “Christ, don’t tell me someone actually did that?”

“Of course someone fucking did that, John. Most people who see that side of me either think of me like I’m holding on by a goddamn thread and if it's not that, it's the whole horde of other shit in my head.” She rubbed at her brow and slipped the cigarette back between her lips. “People don’t want to fall in love with someone like me. It’s too hard to do,” she mumbled.

“Well, lucky for you I’m a bit of a stubborn bastard. I’m willin’ to put in the hard work. I can be goddamn relentless when need be.”

Rory scoffed, “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

He gave her a little crooked grin and stepped forward cutting all the space between them, cupping her face in his large hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly. “I’m only gonna tell you this once, darlin’.” Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t care about how much trouble you might be, you hear me? I have to have you, Rory. I need you to be mine, yeah? Simple as.”

It was her turn to ask the question. “Why?”

“Because if there’s anyone who’s going to understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, 's me. I wanna protect you. I wanna make sure somethin’ like this never happens again. I can’t even take the thought of you bein’ with someone else ‘sides me.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

He nodded his head slightly. “Well, I’m patient. Persistent. I can wait as long as I have to.”

“Fucking hell,” she said with a quiet chuckle, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not after what I saw last night.”

She pulled away, the ash from her cigarette falling to the floor as it hung from her hand. Flexing her shoulders, Rory stood up taller, trying to regain some semblance of the strength she knew she had. “I’m not someone that needs to be guarded. I’m not some bloody damsel in distress. I don’t need you chaining yourself to me because you feel guilty or like this is your fault. That’s not what I want.”

“Well what do you want?”

There was a list she could give him, one that was a million miles long. But all she really wanted right now was to be looked at like a soldier, to be trusted. She didn’t need to rely on him, didn’t need to lean on him like some bending tree in a tempest.

“I just want to work.”

Taking a last drag from her cigarette, she moved towards the window and tossed the smoking butt out of it before grabbing the sweater from her bag and heading into the bathroom to start her morning routine, shutting the door behind her.

#call of duty #fan fiction #captain john price #oc: rory sinclair #ship: you are the sword to my shield #john price x oc #fic: all along the watchtower #chapter 11 #skelly writes

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peach-and-bugs · 3 years

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Masterlist

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characters that I write for are organized in alphabetical order by fandom and by name. links will lead to my complete list of posted work for said character:

willing to write for characters: romantically (➵ ) platonically (✸) or nsfw (✧)

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Ask Box Headcanons and Blurbes

Agents of shield

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Jiaying ✸ ➵ ✧

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Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

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Doctor Who

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Five Nights at Freddy (movie)

romantic (➵) platonic (✸) nsfw (✧)

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Killing Eve

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Villanelle ✸ ➵ ✧

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Dina ✸ ➵ ✧

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Joel Miller ✸ ➵

Tommy Miller ✸ ➵

Marvel

Agatha Harkness ✸ ➵ ✧

Bucky Barns/Winter Soldier ✸ ➵

Bruce Banner ✸ ➵

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel ✸ ➵ ✧

Darcy Lewis ✸ ➵ ✧

Drax ✸ ➵

Gamora ✸ ➵ ✧

Hela Odendottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Hope van Dyne/Wasp ✸ ➵ ✧

Jane Foster/Mighty Thor ✸ ➵ ✧

Kate Bishop ✸ ➵ ✧

Layla El-Faouly/Scarlet Scarab ✸ ➵ ✧

May Parker ✸ ➵ ✧

Mantis ✸ ➵ ✧

Maria hill ✸ ➵ ✧

Monica Ranbough ✸ ➵ ✧

Natasha Romanov/Black Widow ✸ ➵ ✧

Nebula ✸ ➵ ✧

Okoye ✸ ➵ ✧

Peggy Carter/Captain Carter ✸ ➵ ✧

Peter Parker/Spider-Man ✸ ➵

Sam Wilson/Falcon/Captain America ✸ ➵

Scott Lang/Ant-man ✸ ➵

Sharon Carter/Powerbroker ✸ ➵ ✧

Sylvie Laufeydottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Thor Odenson ✸ ➵

Valkyrie ✸ ➵ ✧

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch ✸ ➵ ✧

Yelena Belova ✸ ➵ ✧

Parks and Recreation

Ann Perkins ✸ ➵ ✧

April Ludgate ✸ ➵ ✧

Donna Meagle ✸ ➵ ✧

Jennifer Barkley ✸ ➵ ✧

Leslie Knope ✸ ➵ ✧

Star Wars

Ahsoka ✸ ➵ ✧

Captain Phasma ✸ ➵ ✧

Finn/FN-2187 ✸ ➵

General Hux ✸ ➵

Han Solo ✸ ➵

Leia Organa ✸ ➵ ✧

Luke Skywalker ✸ ➵

Padmé Amidala ✸ ➵ ✧

Rey ✸ ➵ ✧

Rose ✸ ➵ ✧

Stranger things

Argyle ✸ ➵

Chrissy Cunningham✸ ➵

Dustin Henderson ✸ ➵

Eddie Munson ✸ ➵

El/Eleven/Jane ✸ ➵

Erica Sinclair ✸

Jim Hopper ✸ ➵

Johnathan Byers ✸ ➵

Joyce Byers ✸ ➵ ✧

Karen Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Lucas Sinclair ✸ ➵

Max Mayfield ✸ ➵

Murray Bauman ✸ ➵

Nancy Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Steve Harrington ✸ ➵

Will Byers ✸ ➵

misc.

Alma LeFay Peregrine (mrs peregrine's home of peculiar children)✸ ➵ ✧

Elizabeth Corday (ER) ✸ ➵ ✧

Laura DeMille/Madame Rouge (Doom Patrol) ✸ ➵ ✧

Lily Lebowski (Crossing Jordan) ✸ ➵ ✧

Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates (Wednesday) ✸ ➵ ✧

Millie Rusk/MolotovGirl (Free Guy) ✸ ➵ ✧

Miranda Croft (The Flight Attendant)✸ ➵ ✧

Dr. Olivia Octaviouse (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)✸ ➵ ✧

Yellowjackets

Jackie Tayler (1996) ✸ ➵

Laura Lee (1996) ✸ ➵

Lottie Mattews (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Misty Quigley (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Shauna Sadecki (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Taissa Turner (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Travis Martinez (1996/2021) ✸ ➵

"Van" Vanessa Palmer (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

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dreamers-arts · 4 months

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*puts hypnosis glasses on*

you want to read my fancomicccc…you want to read my fancomic soooo bad

in all seriousness this is like a massive mcu/agents of shield fix it fic. If you wanna see Nat and Yelena get the childhood they deserved, while all the bad guys get fucked over, this is the comic for you

You can read it here:

#agents of shield #aos #Marvel #mcu #philinda #Blackhill #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #my art #fan comic #fan fiction

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tremorsmackenzie · 8 months

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i feel like there arent enough fics that just let daisy vent about what was done to her in 5x14. like, thats literally one of the worst things that can happen to a person, and most fics trying to deal with it just go the route of "yeah but you still love him too, so you should forgive him, and actually you need to do that if you want to heal". which. no.

obviously she does stil love him, and what happened so obviously isnt fitz's fault, but expecting daisy to just get over it for the sake of the family is not ok. and its what especially makes it so awful, because she does love him, and he so blatantly disregarded it in the worst possible way. she should absolutely rage and hate and not have to be the one who has to be understanding after THAT episode.

especially because she IS lucid enough to know that fitz isnt a villain and this isnt his fault. but that doesnt make the trauma of what he did just go away, and while everyone elses reactions are understandable and justifiable (may focusing on the mission cause if she doesnt shell break down probably, simmons just losing it a little, etc.), the end result is still that almost nobody is there and on daisys side.

not meant to be specifically calling out anyone, ive just been reading a lot of 5x14 fics and ive been noticing a theme.

#agents of shield #daisy johnson #leo fitz #the devil complex #fan fiction

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mamirhodessxox · 23 days

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HOLY FUCKING SHIT

#cody rhodes #oh my fucking goooood #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes x you #cody rhodes smut #wwe imagine #wwe smackdown #wweedit #wwe #the shield #wwe sheild #undertaker #the undertaker #wwe fan fiction #seth freaken rollins #seth freaking rollins #seth rollins x reader

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geek-fashionista · 5 months

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The Queen of Las Noches

Ulquihime Week Day 3: Scandal.

~*~

"Stand back, Inoue."

Perhaps Orihime had been in Las Noches too long. Surrounded by strong warrior women who fought their own battles, who were expected to contribute, for whom weakness and passivity was not allowed. They were often smaller in stature than their male counterparts, but they had teeth and claws and weapons of their own.

And it may have been that which caused Ichigo's command to send an unpleasant prickle up the back of her neck. He stood not ten feet away, squaring off against Ulquiorra, her hollow captor. And yet, it was Ulquiorra's eyes that slid over to hers, steadily holding her gaze with an unspoken challenge. She swayed a little on her feet. Really, she must have been away from the human world too long.

"I won't," she whispered, and then, gathering strength, she repeated herself. "I won't."

Ichigo looked over his shoulder at her. "What?"

She continued to hold Ulquiorra's gaze. "We're wasting time," she said. Her feet carried her forward until she stood between Ichigo and Ulquiorra, closer to the latter than the boy she'd spent months obsessing over. "When I came to Hueco Mundo, I swore that I would reject the hougyoku and stop Aizen-sama myself. And that's what I intend to do." She looked at Ichigo's stunned face, then back at Ulquiorra. "Will you stop me?" she asked him. "You are disobeying Aizen-sama by not letting me go, so I suspect you're only following his orders to defend Las Noches because there's something here you want to protect."

His green eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"If you really want to protect Las Noches, come with me," Orihime continued. "Lend me your sword, and we can save this world together."

"Inoue!" Ichigo cried, but she ignored him. Somehow, over time, the black sky and white sands had become a part of her, too.

Ulquiorra had maintained his grip on his sword throughout the conversation, still ready to fight Ichigo if need be. But now he released the weapon, slipped his hands back into his pockets, and regarded her with open interest. "You are a strong woman, indeed," he murmured.

Orihime smiled, brimming with confidence, and turned to Ichigo, whose mouth opened and closed in silent shock. "All right, let's help Ishida-kun escape Yammy and then get out of here!"

#bleach #ulquihime week 2023 #ulquihime #listen I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about how Orihime's character arc should have gone #and every single one of them involve her becoming Hueco Mundo's ambassador #with Ulquiorra as the sword to her shield #fan fiction #let Orihime reject the hougyoku 2k23

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supremechancellorrex · 11 months

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What I find interesting about tumblr is how it can really make you more impulsive. I recently got into a heated debate that turned pretty hostile and my first instinct was to fire off a justifiably angry post about it, condemning that person, so I did. But, now, I realise... I was completely right and I agree with everything I said about their homophobic, Jedi apologist ass.

At the same time, I began to realise I don't want to expend effort chasing after toxic fans, giving them attention that could be spent elsewhere and having negativity infest my feed. I'm supposed be enjoying myself too here, so I'm gonna clean up my shop a little and focus on people worth knowing.

#tumblr is being a bitch #toxic fans #toxic behaviour #homophobia #criticism isn't a bad thing #still tho stop using real minorities as anti-criticsm meat shields for fictional characters/groups #it's exploitative #you know who u r #star wars

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brightnote · 9 months

Link

Please read A Shot in the Dark before you “watch” (read) this post credits scene, cause there’s a big spoiler at the end.

A short time after the events Maria and Tony survived Maria and Natasha visited their former SHIELD associate Melinda May. It wasn’t a formal or business gathering, instead it was just the three women sitting on May’s living room floor around her coffee table with beer and snacks just chatting for awhile. Nothing like the old days when they were running around the world together battling the bad guys and saving people. As Maria recounted the story of the events she just survived to Nat and May she actually felt real relief, just getting what happened out to two people she trusted made such a difference.

As Maria finalized the story, even adding in Tony’s painkiller inspired gift, Nat and May were just had no words for all of it. It’s not like they were particularly chatty people but it was so much for Maria to keep to herself she had to tell them, she was glad she did.

“And then I got home and took a ten year shower and cried in the corner of my shower until I was so numb I could fall asleep.” Maria finalized the events and taking a sip of beer and sighing.

“Just like the old days.” May smirked.

“An isolated shower corner cry is surprisingly satisfying.” Natasha added in.

“There’s nothing like it.”

“Except therapy.” May replied in a classic monotoned retort

Maria sighed and then looked at May.

“But…that’s why I can’t return your shoes…” Maria sighed, admitting to May, the gold and black shoes she borrowed were gone for good.

“I have one pair of non flat shoes that I like. One pair…” May groaned.

“Had.” Natasha corrected.

“I know. But considering what they stepped in I don’t think you really want them back anyway…” Maria grimaced.

“You didn’t find the little dagger hiding in the heel?” May asked seriously.

“You are not serious.” Maria looked at her wide eyed.

“Why do you think I like them?” May asked not giving to her joke. “Okay, I’m not but that is what I expect you to replace them with because of your Stark tech connections.” May sort of joked, as she thought she was on to something here.

“Dagger heels, got it. Very practical.” Maria remarked

“Would have been pretty practical for you just a few days ago..” May smirked and Maria shook her head at her. “Or gun heels, I would be fine with gun heels.” May added and Natasha seconded.

“You’re corporate now, make stuff happen.” Natasha joked looking at Maria like why hadn’t she made these yet.

“Why is the grossest part of this whole story that you had to use a dirty hand towel from that creepy doctor’s bathroom?” May went back to the story for a minute, thinking about it giving a shiver.

“Because it is.” Natasha added in

“Please don’t make me think about it or I will just live in my shower until I die.”

“What do you think was on it.” May laughed, teasing, despite the trauma.

“May!” Maria exclaimed not wanting to ever think about that again.

“Probably wasn’t worse than what Maria put on it..” Natasha grimaced “probably…”

“But.. when I looked under bathroom sink I found a whole thing of unopened like hand wipes or something and I almost had a full on meltdown.” Maria admitted.

“You always look under the sink first.” Natasha threw out like it was obvious.

“Yeah, amateur.” May quipped with a smirk.

“Yeah, what was I thinking?” Maria rolled her eyes, and then she thought about it for a minute. “Well.. if you really want your shoes back they are probably still under the sink with my dress.”

“Ugh.” May groaned at the thought of this one truly magnificent pair of shoes going to waste. May lent them to her most responsible and trustworthy friend, without a second thought in the world, it just figured, but she was glad Maria was okay, she would pick Maria over anything.

“The dress was nice too.” May added in with a sigh. “My shoes did go perfectly with them.”

“Yeah..” Maria sighed along with May, not getting into the dress specifics.

“What dress?” Nat asked and Maria did not make eye contact with her. Natasha’s jaw dropped for a minute when Maria didn’t acknowledge her question and she look right at May.

May not picking up on a single cue from Maria started to describe it.

“It was like black, one shoulder, shimmery gold, it was nice it looked really good.” As May explained it, Nat’s expression really changed, gasping wide eyed a complete ‘you did not’ expression right at Maria who was avoiding the Widow’s stare.

“THIEF!” Natasha yelled at Maria, Nat’s voice cracking in the excitement of her realization.

“Oh my god.” May gasped at Maria. “Do you not own clothes or something?” May asked Maria who was shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous.” Natasha huffed right at Maria.

“I can’t help it that you have cooler clothes than me!” Maria finally looked at Natasha.

“Shop somewhere other than Ann Taylor then!!” Natasha jokingly yelled and May laughed.

“I shouldn’t have to shop! My clothes should just appear before me so I don’t have to think about them or organize them or coordinate and they should just be …cool since I can’t just wear the same thing everyday anymore…” Maria complained

“Is Ann Taylor where you go shopping with your new corporate friends?” May asked Maria with a laugh.

“Friends? Or the women who peer pressure you into wearing stilettos in a place where the floor is so slick one misstep and you take out your whole face. It is actually a safety concern.” Maria groaned.

“All the more reason for shoe guns.” May joked

“Gun heels.” Natasha corrected

“Just be like Mr. Stark—“ May started

“Mr. Stark?” Natasha echoed with a laugh

“Mr. Stark” May continued over Natasha “as I have saved your life I would like you to invent shoe guns, they are very practical, and not at all safety hazard, unlike the situation with women’s shoes in this building now.”

“Gun heels.” Natasha interjected again.

“They would be very helpful for all women forced to wear non flat shoes and who end up in precarious situations. In fact, it would have shortened our ordeal by may hours if those existed. Please use your genius brain to invent them.” May pretended to do a fake imitation of Maria.

“Yeah spot on me.” Maria laughed rolling her eyes shaking her head like it was never going to happen.

“I thought so, but fine alright whatever. Just go to the mall with Becky or Katie or whoever and be miserable eating your mall pretzel and your Ann Taylor wardrobe.” May huffed jokingly.

“Well if they’re are pretzels I’m not going to be that miserable.” Maria smirked

“Not the cinnamon roll?” Natasha asked

“They make a cinnamon pretzel…” Maria looked at Nat

“You sure know a lot about the mall.” Nat threw out there with some side eye to Maria.

“You guys.. you get both.. a regular pretzel and a cinnamon roll and split it halfsies, c’mon. You have to have one savory and one sweet snack. Get in the game.” May clarified the process for them.

“How are you going to walk around the mall with a snack in each hand?” Natasha looked skeptical at May.

“How are you going to hold your drink?” Maria asked jokingly

“Okay… so we are strategizing how to eat snacks at the mall…” May pointed out to them. They all took a brief moment to think about how their brains naturally went to that place no matter what they were talking about.

“We’re so dumb.” May laughed to herself for a minute. Maria nodded and Natasha rolled her eyes with a sigh.

After the minute passed, Maria looked over at Natasha.

“I mean.. was that dress… really was it even yours anymore?” Maria asked about the dress again.

“Oh now you’re circling back, huh, and yes.. it was..” Natasha clarified.

“I think if you leave it at my apartment for a year it becomes mine.”

“Oh really? Do you want to play that game Hill because there’s a jacket that’s been sitting in my closet…” Natasha challenged Maria

“Oh I want that back.”

“Yeah right.” Natasha said over a hushed laugh “And.. that dress was too long for you, it was supposed to go the knee not below. Plus… it looked really good on me…for the 30 minutes that I got to really wear it.”

“Everything looks better on you when you’re seven feet tall.” Natasha shook her head. “Were you even going to tell me?”

“Only if you asked about it.”

“You were more afraid to tell Natasha about her dress than me about my shoes?” May asked squinting at Maria.

“No. Definitely not.” Maria looked at May. “I just thought she forgot about that dress…” Maria started to explain.

“I have been working!” Natasha interjected.

“And I know you were expecting your shoes back.” Maria continued over Natasha’s interruption and explained. May pressed her lips together giving Maria a suspicious look.

“I wasn’t really expecting them back after I heard, but I appreciate you taking the time to explain it.” May affirmed.

“Maybe it was a little bit of a pretext to come hang out.” Maria admitted.

“You don’t need a pretext just come by— I mean, assuming I’m around which I’m usually not…” May sighed.

Things were really different now with fall of SHIELD and things operating on the down low. Maria and May really missed the old days, but it was kind of hard to think about it overall positively knowing what they knew now about the place they had given most of their lives to. Natasha didn’t hang onto any nostalgic institutional preservation like they did, but she did miss some of the old days too, it was just different for her.

“So uh.. did you two… break up… or.. get together? What is the status of this situationship?” May inquired, she wasn’t going to tell anyone and she always knew something was going on with them somewhere, somehow, but it’s not like they were very open people about their relationships or feelings. But they clearly never hesitated to indicate something was going on when they were alone with May, someone they both trusted deeply. Neither Maria or Natasha said anything, they didn’t really have answer for her, they both just shrugged.

“I heard Natasha commandeered a jet out of Prague when she heard what happened…” May added a little more fuel to the conversation to see what she could get.

Maria looked at Natasha with an ‘oh really’ expression and Natasha rolled her eyes and avoided eye contact with Maria.

“She cares deeply for Tony..” Maria looked back at May and smirked. Natasha raised her brows and sighed.

“Yeah, I do.” Nat answered confidently.

“You mean Maria’s boyfriend, Tony Stark?” May joked from Maria’s story about what happened. For some reason this made both Natasha and Maria laugh.

“Do you think I would like Tony?” May asked

“No.” Maria and Nat answered in perfect unison, and then the three them laughed at the idea.

“Traumatic incidents can spur some wild relationships…” May poised “I mean, he’s already giving you chest bursting alien replicas, you are practically married.” May chided

“Please.” Maria grimaced at the suggestion. She was done pretending she was in a straight relationship, even if it was to save lives.

“Oh. It’s not Tony to worry about, it’s actually Steve.” Nat pointed out after taking a drink. Maria gasped and shot a look right at Natasha shaking her head no.

“No…” Maria said with an emphatic but embarrassed tone trying to shut it down before this became the topic of conversation but it made it worse.

“Steve?” May paused as she thought about who Steve was for a minute…“Steve Rogers? Captain America!” And then May laughed like she had not laughed in years. “You have a straight girl crush on Captain America?” May said laughing looking right at Maria in delight. May sat up straight from her leaning as she learned this.

Maria stared at May her mouth ajar and then glared at Natasha.

“You have a thing for him, a weird thing. It’s there, it’s fine. He’s him. I get it.” Natasha shrugged at Maria’s glare. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I do not! I really don’t. I don’t!” Maria said repeating herself but she couldn’t stop from smiling, mostly because she had not heard May laugh like that in years, but Maria shook her head no. She did have a soft spot for Steve but in a platonic friend way, he was just from a different time.

May looked over at Nat and Nat just nodded to May confirming that Maria did, indeed, have a cute little straight school girl crush on Steve Rogers.

“You are unbelievable.” Maria said to Nat as she watched the exchange and sighed loudly but she couldn’t keep from laughing.

“You can’t even deny it with a straight face.” Nat laughed. Nat knew the crush wasn’t real but she did think it was funny that it made Maria so flustered.

“Do you write his name on your work notes? In a little heart?” May said laughing. “Like all curly and whirly Mrs. Steve Rogers?”

“We’re green, we don’t use paper.” Maria tried not to laugh.

“I think Steve would be: Mr. Maria Hill.” Nat added in and May and Nat locked eyes both grinning and then laughing.

Maria had to cover her face with her hands as they grilled her, it’s not like this was something May and Natasha got to do very often.

“Steve freaking Rogers.” May repeated shaking her head, the idea of it made her laugh so much.

“I definitely do not have a straight girl crush on anyone including Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, deny it again and maybe we will believe you.” May laughed

“He’s just nice, a class act, always kind and smart and very easy to work with, unlike many many other people that I have to or had to work with.” Maria tried very hard not get flustered shaking her head, looking away from them and then back at both of them when she referenced their past work associations.

“Oh. I get it.” May sighed “It’s like an admiration crush, like if Steve was twenty five years older than you, you’d follow him around to be his reliable support guy at every job forever until he died.” May joked and Natasha nodded in confirmation as May was onto something. Maria gasped.

“YEP.” Natasha confirmed verbally.

“I am..” Maria didn’t want to ruin the fun but also she did not want to dive into this conversation, she had enough of people trying to dive into her psyche lately “I am… starting to not feel that bad about ruining your shoes and clothes.” She looked at both of them with a smirk.

“At least you admit it’s mine now.” Natasha quipped right back.

As the three women took a minute to recover from Natasha’s revelation about Maria and May’s excitement. They sat in the quiet for a moment.

“Isn’t it weird to be sitting on the ground drinking and talking about boys and clothes like we’re 22 and we were ever normal?” May asked. Maria wasn’t the only one who needed a break from her reality May and Natasha needed it too. There was a time when the three of them were epic and fun. Everything didn’t have the unfathomable stakes all the time and then suddenly it just changed. Everything they went through got heavier and harder and it weighed on them more and more, there were almost never nights or moments like this.

“Ugh.” Maria groaned. “I was in such good shape when I was 22.” Maria thought about it with a sigh.

“Well..” May paused “You can take ‘Captain America’s self defense class’ to get back into fighting shape any time.” May blurted out over her own laughter which she thought was an even funnier detail of Maria’s story now that she knew about her little thing for Steve.

Now Natasha was covering her face laughing.

“I can’t believe I missed you.” Maria jokingly mumbled at May with a grin.

“But does Maria Martin, part-time designer of handbags and Stark Industries assistant miss me?” May asked jokingly, this really made Natasha laugh again. “Maria Martin definitely goes to the mall.” May chided.

“You don’t even own a purse.” Natasha snickered at Maria.

“Like we do?” May clocked back at Natasha

“Which is good, since if I had ID on me I’d definitely be .. not here right now.”

“Unless you had gun heels” May pointed at Maria “it would have been over real fast.” May joked circling back to her earlier pitch.

“Oh my god gun shoes not going to be a thing..” Maria sighed loudly at this terrible, awful, impractical idea, which she knew was a joke but she just had to shut it down.

“Gun heels!” Both May and Natasha corrected Maria.

Maria leaned back against the bottom of May’s couch. She sighed.

“I think I should probably head out.” Maria said as she got up. She could actually live here in this moment of complete safety and laughing if she stayed at May’s too long, but she new it was just a temporary regroup for all three of them. That wasn’t the norm, that’s not how things worked for them in reality.

“And you’re going with her?” May asked Natasha

“Yeah.” Natasha confirmed.

Maria and Natasha left May’s with loving goodbyes. They headed out to the sidewalk. The night air was breezy but warm, the rain from the other day had cooled off some of the summer humidity that had been building.

Maria and Natasha walked next to each other, they didn’t hold hands or act like they were anything other than two women walking next to each other.

Maria looked at her phone as they walked, she hadn’t looked it once at May’s and even silenced it, in fact she actually forgot about it for awhile which was nice. She had and anxiety inducing amount of unanswered texts from the last few days, Natasha noticed it and knew that was unusual for a women who kept her unread at 0 at all times.

Maria then winced a bit when she looked at her phone and Natasha was quick to notice.

“What?” Natasha asked

Maria showed Natasha her phone screen of 11 missed calls from an unknown number.

“What’s that about?” Nat asked

Maria just shook her head like she didn’t know.

“Fury?” Nat purposed

Maria had not heard from him and Maria shrugged but she figured at some point she might, maybe not, he was a busy guy had a lot going on.

The unknown caller rang again and Maria and Natasha stopped and looked at it, both weighing if she should answer it. Maria’s guess was that it was the FBI they always called from blocked numbers, but calling her that many times in a row meant there was an emergency or someone was dead.

Maria answered but she didn’t put it on speaker which Natasha found annoying.

“Yeah?” Maria used this as her greeting when she answered not confirming it was her since she did not know who was calling. She didn’t know what to expect after so many missed calls, had something happened to Tony now? Had she unplugged herself when Fury was trying to reach her?

“Maria, finally!” Natasha could her the man’s voice from the phone and she knew it was not Fury or Tony. Maria looked shocked and mad at the voice she heard as she recognized it instantly.

“We have a game to finish.” Yuri continued even though Maria didn’t say anything back, she just looked Natasha concerned. Maria knew she had to seen it to believe it, of course Yuri made it out.

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thlayli-ra · 11 months

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I was inspired by a writing prompt on @sinderellanightwolf 's blog and just HAD to write it down. Let me know what you think!

Kissing Request; 42 (Life or Death kisses)

Pairing - Finn Balor/The Shield (Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose)

AU - Police

Rating - Mature (sexual themes)

Contains - M/M, kissing, fondling, hostage situation

Word Count - 2,076 words

The armed men had rushed in around noon taking as many hostages as they could and barricading themselves into a small windowless room. The police had cordoned off the building and surrounding streets but the SWAT teams had been told to hold back for now - there was no clear way inside and they couldn't risk harming the hostages.

And that was where Finn came in. He was considered one of the best hostage crisis negotiators in the state, revered among his peers. Unshakeably cool under pressure with bags of Irish charm, he had faced countless situations like this before and always managed to de-escalate the situation without a single drop of blood spilled.

In fact, the terrorists had asked for him by name.

Having arrived at the scene and been debriefed, Finn pulled on a bulletproof vest, grabbed his headset and made his way under the barrier tape. He was greeted by three officers, all dressed in full riot gear and holding large rifles.

'Agent Balor,' the largest and broadest of the three greeted the Irishman with a firm handshake. 'Officer Reigns. This is Officer Ambrose and Officer Rollins. We'll be your cover out there.'

'Think of us as your personal shield,' Rollins added with a smirk.

'It's comforting to know I have men like you watching my back,' Finn remarked. 'Have they made any demands yet?'

'Nope,' Ambrose shook his head. 'They refuse to talk to anybody but you.'

'Then let's not waste anymore time,' Finn said and walked towards the building, flanked by the three officers. By now, it was rush hour and the area had gathered a large crowd of onlookers watching the proceedings with morbid fascination. Finn ignored their stares and the heat of the mid-summer sun as he turned on his headset.

'Hello? This is Agent Finn Balor, can you hear me?' No response. 'Hello, this is Agent Finn Balor, is there anybody there? Please respond if you can-'

'It's him! It's him!' He heard an excited voice on the other end of his line. 'Is that Agent Balor?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Say something Irish!'

'Ummm, what's the craic?'

A pause. 'Yeah it's definitely him!'

Finn took little notice of the strange behaviour. Gain enough of a reputation in a field such as his and the weirdos inevitably came crawling out of the woodwork. 'Now that we've established it's really me, let's try and work something out, shall we? Some of those people in there have families waiting for them at home. Let's try and get them back in time for supper.'

'Now listen here,' the voice turned aggressive, 'we have our demands and if they're not met, we're gonna open fire and kill every last person here, understand?'

'I understand,' Finn swiped aside any nerves; this was not the time for them.

'Oh, and we have a monitor in here, we're watching the news coverage so we can see you, Agent Balor and everybody else out there with you.'

The hint of a shiver danced up the Irishman's spine. He was glad of the large armed men around him. 'I have no intention of lying or deceiving you. Please, tell me your demands.'

The line went quiet and the sound of muffled voices rustled in the background. The terrorist was conferring with his partner-in-crime. 'Ok, Agent Balor. Our first demand is...' A bead of sweat trickled down Finn's forehead but he paid it no heed as he waited for their response. '...you must go up to that guy beside you and kiss him.'

Finn blinked. 'I... I'm sorry, can you repeat that?'

'Go kiss that guy to your right,' the voice said again, confirming Finn's suspicions. 'Not just a peck either, make it steamy.'

'You... want me to kiss Officer Rollins?' He eyed the officer in question who looked as confused as he did.

'You want us to shoot these people?'

'No, of course I don't, it's just that-?' His eyes met those of Rollins who shouldered his rifle.

'It's life or death here, Agent Balor,' he said, pulling up the visor of his helmet. 'I'll do my duty if you will.'

The Irishman's heart skipped a beat at the dark doe eyes and pretty face staring back at him. There were certainly worse situations he could find himself in 'Ok, fine. I'll do it. Are you watching?'

'Oh yeeeah, we are!'

Finn rolled his eyes as he walked up to Officer Rollins. Put on the spot, the pair awkwardly grasped one another by the shoulders before leaning in. Finn flinched momentarily as Officer Rollins' mouth found his and closed his eyes, the two of them standing rigid with their lips flattened against the others.

'Come on Agent Balor,' the voice in his ear chastised, 'this aint some high school church dance. Use a little tongue.'

Rollins was the first to comply and opened his mouth, his hot breath steaming Finn's skin, masterfully engulfing the Irishman's full lips. The grip on his shoulders tightened and Rollins turned his face, deepening the passionate kiss even more. Finn was left stunned when Rollins' tongue slipped between his lips, the soft caress enough to draw a needy groan from his throat.

'You're obviously enjoying yourself Agent Balor,' the voice teased. 'He must be a very good kisser.'

Finn couldn't deny it; Officer Rollins was a master at his craft. Sensual, sweet and attentive. He could do this for an eternity, locked in his embrace. By the time the officer released the Irishman, his pale skin had turned a deep pink.

It took him a while to find his voice. 'Is... was that enough for you?'

'That was perfection,' the voice on the other end of the line purred.

'Big guy,' another voice sounded, obviously his partner-in-crime. 'Do the big guy next.'

'No, leave him till last. Do the other one first,'

'Yeah, the guy with the really slim waist.'

'So, now you want me to kiss Officer Ambrose?' Finn confirmed, his voice still breathy from his encounter with Rollins.

'Yeah, yeah. Do it.' Ambrose was already making his way towards him, leaving Finn little time to think. 'Wait, take off his helmet, we wanna see his face.'

'Go on,' Ambrose prompted and Finn slipped the black helmet and visor from the man's head. A tangle of sandy blonde curls tumbled loose from his crown, which he flicked back with a jerk of his head and fixed the Irishman with two simmering blue eyes. Finn barely had time to process how gorgeous the officer was before his face was grabbed by two gloved hands and Ambrose shoved his lips onto his.

Compared to Rollins, Ambrose was sloppy and animalistic, all teeth and spittle as he nipped the Irishman's lips over and over. The grip on his face was strong and unyielding, rugged fingers curling into Finn's beard and gripping it tightly so that he could not pull away. Not that he wanted to! As different as Rollins' and Ambrose's styles were, they were as equally addictive. While Rollins' sensuality stole Finn's breath away, Ambrose's roughness kicked up his heart until it pounded against his rib cage, adrenaline flooding his senses.

Biting down one last time, the nip enough to draw a small bead of blood, Ambrose let go with another jerk of his head, shooting the Irishman a lopsided smirk. Smug bastard! Finn stumbled on wobbly legs, resisting the urge to wipe the dampness from his chin.

'Having fun, Agent Balor?' the voice was cackling now, mocking the once cool, composed negotiator. 'We certainly are.'

'Let me guess, you have one more demand?' Finn asked aloud, looking over his shoulder to spy the largest of the three men. 'You want me to kiss Officer Reigns next?'

'You are so clever, Agent Balor,' the voice cheered.

'And if I do this, you will let the hostages go?' Finn pressed.

'Yes, every one, and we will put down our weapons and turn ourselves in.'

'Then I'd best do it, hadn't I?'

Without being instructed, Finn lifted the helmet from Officer Reigns' head, finding to his delight another handsome face, with tanned skin and a strong jaw. His lips looked as delicious as fruit freshly plucked from the bough and Finn wasted no time in capturing them. The larger man parted his lips to let Finn in, wrapping his arms around the Irishman and grasping him firmly.

'Grab his ass!' the voice commanded and before Finn could ask who the order was directed at, Reigns' hands moved to his backside and cupped both pert cheeks in his giant palms. Finn pulled his head back and gasped when large, strong fingers began to knead the tautly muscled flesh, in return hearing something like a tiger's growl rumbling in the pit of the larger man's throat.

Reigns pounced, taking possession of the Irishman's lips once more, sucking them into his warm mouth while his tongue explored them further. Reigns clearly enjoyed being in charge and Finn happily gave his body over to the officer, succumbing to the larger man's raw domination. One hand fell away from his backside to grab a fistful of his short, dark hair, tugging until the Irishman hissed. Reigns had done this before and knew exactly what he was doing - the force on his hair perfectly weighted between pain and rapture. Finn whimpered like an excited puppy.

'Oh Agent Balor, the noises you're making,' the voice whined down his ear. 'You're making us very jealous. We left you the best for last, didn't we?'

Finn couldn't answer; his mouth now belonged to Reigns. He could barely even reciprocate but the officer didn't care. Between the hand in his hair, the hand on his ass and the tongue in his mouth, Reigns was getting enough from the Irishman to satiate his desires.

When he finally pulled away, Finn felt dizzy, as if he'd just been through an out-of-body experience and had abruptly returned to his senses. He swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, reality jarring back into focus when the butt of his palm hit his headset.

'Is that it?' he said, remembering the job at hand. 'Did I meet your demands?'

'Ohhh, that and more, Agent Balor,' the voice sang. 'Look towards the door.'

Finn turned around and was hit with a wave of relief when the double doors to the building opened and a crowd of wide-eyed hostages fled to freedom. At last, the SWAT team rushed inside while the police force attended to the survivors. The line in his ear went dead, replaced by loud static. Removing his headset, he was suddenly hit with the full force of his condition. He was breathless and lightheaded, his lips bruised and his chin dripping. Glancing around at the mass of faces watching him in an almost voyeuristic fashion, he felt as if he was naked. He absentmindedly popped up the collar of his leather jacket in a feeble attempt to hide from their gazes.

'Good job, Agent Balor,' it was Reigns who spoke, Rollins and Ambrose falling in line behind him. They didn't seem fazed by their strange day in the slightest. 'The terrorists have been arrested and not a single hostage hurt. I'd call that a success.'

'Aye, sure,' Finn hushed out through trembling lips.

'Here,' Reigns held out his hand, a card between his two fingers. 'Call any time, if you need mine or...' he glanced back over his shoulder with a sly grin, '..all of our services again.'

'Thanks,' Finn said, taking the card. 'I'll bear that in mind.'

The three men left and Finn stood alone, staring down at the card when he heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw two men in handcuffs being shoved into a police van. 'Thank you, Agent Balor! Until next time!'

'WE LOVE YOU!' the other one hollered before he was wrestled into the van.

Finn shook his head in disbelief. What a day! Now, he'd head back to his office and write up the paperwork. Then it was straight home for a shower (a cold one, preferably) and a beer (even colder). Before walking away, however, he looked down at the card Reigns had given him, rubbing his tattooed hand over his slick chin. He'd be sure to keep this little treasure safe - he had a feeling he'd be needing the boys before long.

Maybe for a personal assignment next time!

#writing prompts #my fanfictions #wrestling fanfiction #wwe #finn balor #roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose #jon moxley #the shield #tw hostage situation #kissing prompts #Thlayli-WrITES #wwe fan fiction

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claymorexpunisher · 2 years

Text

Poppin The Question- Ch.5/10 (Werewolf!Shield) (18+ Fic) (Repost)

Summary: Got nothin' to say about this chapter, lmao. Enjoy and leave comments if you did (or didn't). I think this was quite literally my very first WWE fic. Wow!

Tags: 18+, M/M, smut, fluff, angst, angst with a happy ending, hair-pulling, hair kink, daddy kink, name-calling.

Word Count: 17,916

A few months later, the boys and the rest of the RAW roster were gearing up for WrestleMania.

And Roman, being the winner of that year's Royal Rumble, was both annoyed and excited that he once again was going up against Vince's first-born golden child, Brock Lesnar.

The fans were also pretty excited at the prospect of having a new and fighting champion as well.

It had been 5 months to be exact.

And it had been just as long since that night in the woods.

Roman, Seth and Jon never talked about that night.

The boys themselves were on good terms, however.

They were talking, joking and just being best friends again.

But no matter how much he tried, Roman just couldn't shake the guilt that he's felt all this time.

He knew Jon was right.

He knew he had every right to move on with his life, and to have fun again.

After all, it was Alexis who ended it.

But...there was something else he wasn't telling the boys.

While Roman was an alpha he had a bit of a submissive streak.

Even the fans picked up on it sometimes while he was doing something as innocent as sparring against someone, or even interacting with his boys.

And while Alexis started off being supportive and tried to indulge him whenever she could, it ended up taking a huge toll on their marriage.

She never belittled him for it, though.

She never made him feel less than because he was an alpha who just so happened to enjoy being cuddled, fucked and told he was good after a hard day's work.

Or that he did his best, and that that was enough.

But she just wasn't satisfied and Roman didn't fault her for ending things.

Alexis knew he swung both ways.

And she knew that he found both Seth and Jon attractive, and she was okay with that.

She trusted him and she knew he wouldn't fool around with anyone outside of their marriage, much less with people so close to them both.

Some people would view their past relationship as a little more than unconventional, but Roman appreciated how open and accepting she was when it came to who he was, at least in that regard.

And he appreciated being able to talk to her about that kinda thing.

But he just couldn't stop thinking about the whole encounter.

And after tonight, unbeknownst to Roman, he was going to be feeling way worse and confused.

Roman was deep in his thoughts when Jon found him and slung his arm over his shoulder.

''How's it goin', champ?'' Jon drawled with a smirk.

Roman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement as he locked eyes with Jon.

''Hol' up now. I'm not champ just yet, babe.'' Roman laughed, only to get a playful eye roll in response.

''Don't roll your eyes at me, Mox.'' Roman growled equally as playful.

Both men started aggressively rolling on the ground, their bared canines snapping until Seth, overhearing the conversation, found them and cut in with a laugh.

''Alright, enough you two. You got this in the bag, Big Guy.'' Seth remarked as he joined the duo and sat on the bench that the pair once occupied.

Roman ducked his head a little at the compliment as he and Jon dusted themselves off and got up off the floor, and he shot both men a grateful grin.

''We'll see.'' He conceded.

Jon gave Roman a gentle and affectionate head butt and chuckled, ridiculously endeared.

''So modest.'' Ruffling Romans wet hair, Jon joined Seth on the bench.

''I just wish I didn't have to do this shit all over again with Brock, man...'' Roman flashed them an irritated look as he took a generous swig from his near frozen water bottle.

Both Jon and Seth understood where Roman was coming from.

They couldn't count how many times they were shoved into the same boring feuds with the same people every week without any real payoff.

But they felt especially bad for Roman because Brock was nowhere near a deserving opponent.

''I know, bro.'' Seth said, his tone full of sympathy.

Leaning against Seth, Jon eyed Roman's tense back.

''Tonight's your lucky night, Uce. I can feel it.''

Roman dumped his now empty water bottle in the trash bin and ran his fingers through his hair.

''Let's just hope it's a decent match at least.'' Roman sighed, leaving Jon and Seth alone with their thoughts as Roman got called for his match.

----- The match that night left Roman both exhausted-emotionally and physically, but also absolutely elated.

Finally, he was Universal Champion.

Finally, they no longer had to deal with Brock...well, that was until the powers that be decided otherwise.

Still, all Roman wanted to do was go to the hotel and sleep the night off.

But Jon and Seth had other plans.

''Congrats, Big Dog.'' Seth smiled at the exhausted man.

''Thank you, thank you.'' Roman smiled back tiredly, adjusting the title up over his shoulder.

Roman laughed a little painfully as he felt Jon plaster himself onto Roman's aching back.

''We goin' out to celebrate?'' Jon bounced excitedly against Roman's back making him laugh again.

But his brow furrowed when he felt more than heard Roman's tired sigh.

''We are gonna celebrate..aren't we?'' Jon raised a ginger brow as Roman shrugged, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the mere thought of going anywhere except to his hotel room for the night.

''...Fine. You're the champ, so you decide how we celebrate.'' Jon conceded.

Roman sighed once again, this time in fond exasperation.

''I honestly just wanna sleep, man... Maybe we can do something tomorrow night after RAW...?'' Roman offered, but Jon was having none of it.

''Cmon, man- look, tell ya what. Why don't we crash together- like old times! Huh? Crack open a beer or two...or three?'' Jon laughed, the two men joining in.

Slinging his arm around Roman, Jon ruffled his dark hair, smiling encouragingly.

Roman reluctantly nodded, smiling fondly at the small yip released by the ginger.

----- Not even 2 hours later Roman, Seth and Jon piled up in bed to sleep after knocking back a couple beers.

Well, all except Roman.

With all his exhaustion, Roman couldn't for the life of him get some sleep.

Getting up groggily to stretch out his limbs, Roman ran his fingers through his thick black hair, and after he sluggishly walked toward the bathroom to relieve his full bladder, he strode over to the door to leave their shared room.

Where he was going, Roman didn't know.

But he just needed to get out of that room and gather his thoughts.

But his actions were interrupted by a sleepy voice coming from the bed behind him.

''Going somewhere, Ro?'' Jon asked gruffly.

His eyes peered curiously up at Roman from where he rested against Seth's stomach.

''Yeah. Going for a run maybe, I dunno.'' Roman shrugged, still facing the door.

''Thought you were exhausted.''

Roman groaned irritably as he caught Jon’s suspicious and borderline icy tone, and he rolled his eyes before he turned around to face the ginger.

''I'll be back, alright? Relax.'' He replied, raising his voice an octave, causing Seth's body to give a small jolt even in his deep beer-induced slumber.

Roman bristled with jealousy as he watched Jon run his fingers through Seth's curls soothingly.

He wasn't jealous of Seth, really...

He wasn't.

And the last thing he wanted was for them to go back to square one but, he just didn't know how to voice his thoughts and fears to either of his friends.

He was their pack leader.

The strong one.

The one they turned to when they needed to.

The one who kept them in check, kept them in line.

He knew they trusted him with their lives and vice versa, but he just couldn't trust them this time.

Not with this.

Not when his brain was constantly muddled with these conflicting feelings since that night in the woods- hell, ever since he could remember.

''What the hell's your problem, man?'' Jon whispered harshly, not wanting to disturb Seth again.

''Aren't I supposed to be the bratty one of this group? What's your deal?'' Jon finally stood up and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Roman scoffed dryly, shrugging his shoulders.

''That's just it, isn't it?'' He remarked.

Roman's hands played with the drawstring of his sweatpants simply for something to do.

As he looked down at his pants, he didn't see Jon’s brow furrow in confusion.

''What are you talkin about, Ro?'' Jon exclaimed.

His frustrations were beginning to escalate.

''Just forget it, Jon.'' Roman sighed, shaking his head and not wanting to get into this.

He got the shock of his life when he was met with Jon’s furious blue eyes and his hand firmly gripped Roman's chin.

Roman shrugged the hand off roughly, snarling softly under his breath.

''No. I will not forget it, Roman.'' Jon growled.

''Jon, I'm warning y-'' Roman started, only for Jon to interrupt.

''Oh, we're startin' that ''my dick is bigger than yours'' alpha bullshit again, are we?''

Seth woke up alarmed to see Roman and Jon scuffling on the ground for the second time that day, only this time the growls and snarls he heard coming from them were anything but playful.

He stood up and immediately pulled both men apart.

''Are we really doing this again?'' Seth looked between Roman and Jon who were glaring daggers at one another.

This wasn't exactly how he planned to spend the evening after having a few drinks with his boys and some much-needed RnR.

He shoved Jon back when he lunged for Roman again, clearly fired up for whatever reason unknown to Seth.

''Okay. Both of you, calm down! Jeez...what happened now?'' Seth continued to glance between them, waiting for an explanation, when Jon finally exploded.

''He's doin it again, man!'' Jon pointed at Roman in an accusatory tone to which Roman responded with a glare of his own.

''Seriously, dude? You are such a child, dawg!'' Roman sneered.

Then he moved toward the door again and rested his forehead against it when he was stopped once again, this time by Seth's hand on his shoulder.

His eyes flashed angrily when Jon spat his next words, more so speaking at Roman than to him.

''I'm a fuckin child for wantin to know if you're okay? For wantin to fuckin help you!?'' Jon bellowed, shrugging off Seth's calming hand as it came to rest on the back of his neck in the placating way the three of them always did when either one was stressed or fired up.

'''Hey.'' Seth said.

''Lower your voices, guys. We don't want security coming.''

''Fuck that!'' Jon roared, being shushed loudly by Seth as a result.

''No! I'm sick o' his shit! We're your best friends! Your pack! It's our job to know if somethin's wrong, you prick!'' Jon spat again.

However, Roman didn't take the bait.

Instead, he gave Seth a dry look.

''I honestly don't know how I dealt with his ass when we got split up.''

Seth blinked at that.

He was more than a little shocked by Roman's comment and he felt Jon flinch slightly due to their close proximity.

Seth watched as Jon then just quietly moved toward the bed, hooking one ankle over the other once he laid down.

Jon didn't look at either of them.

Seth couldn't even begin to understand what was going on with Roman.

He never spoke this way to anyone, ever- much less to Jon- unless they genuinely deserved it.

''Dude, what is up with you-'' Seth clamped his mouth shut when Roman flashed his now bright yellow and angry eyes at him, the wild look in them started to make Seth nervous.

They stayed that way until Roman caught sight of the wounded look on Jon’s face that the ginger quickly tried to hide.

''Babe...I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that...'' Roman slid into the spot on the bed next to Jon and he ran one of his large hands smoothly over the other man's buzzed cut head, biting back a sigh of disappointment when he was met with no response.

He tried to hold Jon’s face only to be shoved away.

''Nah. Don't worry bout it, Ro..'' Jon shrugged, feigning a nonchalant attitude.

''Just go. You're right, you don't owe me nothin'.'' Jon shrugged again.

''It's cool.''

''.....Can I show you guys something?'' Roman asked shyly.

His palms began to sweat.

He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he knew he had to.

He wasn't gonna lose them again out of fear.

Or out of shame.

He was going to be honest with them like they deserved, no matter the outcome.

He had to trust in them.

He did trust them.

Roman nervously reached for his phone that he had placed on the bedside table.

''We've seen it already, Ro. 'Member?'' Jon quipped like a smart ass, unable to help himself.

''Don't be a dick, Mox.'' Roman replied.

Jon was about to make another smart-assed comment, until he noticed the slight tremble in Roman's hands.

''Okay, I'm sorry.'' He made his point by affectionately squeezing the back of Roman's neck.

He and Seth watched as Roman fiddled with his phone, until he pulled up a video.

And on that video, a well-built man- about Roman's size, give or take- laid at another equally well-built man's feet.

Roman didn't dare look either Seth nor Jon in the eye.

And he didn't know if their silence was something he was grateful for or not.

''Rome...'' Seth started to speak but he cut himself off when the man on the video motioned for the black-haired man on the ground to unbuckle his top's jeans.

Once the man's cock was exposed, the black-haired man took the shaft into his hand, and he gave the head a few small kitten-like licks and he stroked it slowly as his top showered him with praise.

Before the video could go on, Roman shut it off and tossed his phone onto the bed as if it were a ticking time bomb. '

'This was a mistake...'' Roman said in a quivering voice.

He strode over to the door, ready to bolt again.

''C'mon, man. Stop running.'' Jon implored, his tone void of the malice and anger from earlier.

All that was left was frustration and sadness.

Roman held the knob in his hand so tight that Jon had to pry his fingers off of it.

He sighed in defeat, and followed Jon to the bed with Seth sitting to his left.

''Get on your knees, Ro.'' Jon was the one to fill the silence as it began to consume the room.

He gave Roman an expectant look and it was returned with a blank expression from the Samoan.

Jon rolled his eyes at Roman's hesitance.

''Cmon, Ro. I need my cock sucked and you need to be told you're a good boy.'' Jon replied casually, not missing the sharp intake of breath from Roman.

''I-I don't think so, man...'' Roman stuttered.

Jon leaned forward with his elbows resting against his knees.

''So, what? You're just gonna keep it all bottled up inside and keep bein' a dick to us instead?''

''Oh, because you're such an expert at sharing your feelings,'' Roman snapped.

But Jon was unbothered because he knew Roman was just lashing out at him out of pure fear and nervousness.

Instead, Jon rubbed a hand down his own face, and he tried to calm Roman down.

''You'd do this for me, right?''

''Thanks, but I don't need the charity.'' Roman scoffed as he rolled his neck slowly when Jon let out a loud groan.

'Dude, it's not charity!'' Jon was going to go on but instead, he pulled Roman into a heated kiss, taking advantage of Roman's surprised gasp to expertly lick into the man's mouth.

Then he pulled away, panting hard and his mouth glistening.

''Look, I think we've all established that we're attracted to each other. Right? Cool. So, what's the problem? Let us do this for you, man!'' Jon nudged him encouragingly, but Roman still didn't look convinced.

Rather than press him, Jon beckoned Seth in front of him.

''...Okay then. Get on your knees, Seth.'' Jon commanded and he smiled when Seth got on his knees in front of him without objections, to Roman's utter shock.

''Good boy.''

And with that, Jon stood up to unbuckle his jeans, batting Seth's impatient hands away with a mild scowl.

''Did I say you could touch?'' He asked firmly, even though Seth's eagerness made his cock stir in his jeans, and Roman wasn't too far behind.

The latter of the three grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and he laid it across his lap over his raging erection as he watched his two best friends.

''Did I say you could touch?'' Jon asked again, punctuating his words with a firm tug to Seth's curls until Seth responded.

''I-I'm sorry, Sir...'' Seth whimpered, sighing when Jon loosened his grip, and he ran his blunt fingernails over Seth's scalp in silent praise.

Seth watched patiently as Jon continued to remove his own clothes.

Once that was done, Jon motioned to Seth's clothes, and he gave him a single command.

''Off. Now.''

''Yes, Si-'' Seth went to respond before being cut off by Roman's soft rumbling voice.

''Can I do it?'' Roman asked as he looked Seth straight in the eye hungrily, making the raven-haired man smirk.

''What?'' Jon raised a brow as he watched Roman's aroused yet still tentative features carefully.

He laid on his side and cupped Roman's chin to make Roman look at him.

''You wanna undress 'im?''

Roman nodded jerkily and he cleared his throat to respond properly.

''Yes, Sir.”

Roman sighed once those two words came out of his mouth.

The words felt so right as he said them.

He practically purred in delight when this time his scalp was scratched lightly by Jon, who nodded his approval.

''Okay. Go 'head.''

Jon sat back and watched Roman undress Seth, while giving his own cock a few firm tugs.

Eyeing Roman intently, he knew the man was nervous.

Almost like he was measuring his movements, expecting Jon to correct him at any second.

In an attempt to soothe Roman's nerves, Jon sat up and kissed a patch of skin on Roman's shoulder that was peeking from his tank top.

''It's okay, Ro. Seth knows what I expect of him. You don't. Let's just relax and have some fun, alright? It's just us.''

Kissing that spot on Roman's shoulder again, he stayed sitting at the edge of the bed, and he flashed Seth a dimply and devilish smirk when they both could tell that Roman was starting to relax.

Undressing Seth in record time, Roman sank back down to his knees and took Seth's cock into his large hand and smiled up at him with a wicked glint in his eye before he gave the head a long swipe of his tongue.

''Fuck...'' Seth gasped, smirking down at Roman through hazy eyes.

Roman returned the smile and he began to breathe through his nose to Seth further down his throat, making him and Jon groan.

Jon’s hand began to pump his cock faster, growing impossibly harder as Roman pulled his mouth away from Seth's cock to ask, ''You missed my mouth on you, Seth?'' Roman asked with a seductive smirk.

Roman's full lips glistened sinfully with spit and precum as he looked into Seth's chocolate brown eyes that began to shine with pleasure.

All Seth could do was release a deep, guttural groan and he nodded enthusiastically as Roman's mouth sank down onto him once again.

Resting his head against the sheets, Seth turned his head, and he aimed that same lustful smirk at Jon who watched the scene intently.

''Seems like we're not the only ones enjoying ourselves.'' Seth laughed.

''You like watching us, Sir?'' he purred.

'You like watching him suck me off- fuck...! He's so good at that...'' Seth grunted through clenched teeth.

Seth threw his head back against the sheets and he released Roman's hair from the bun that the man pretty much always sported after shows or on his downtime, and he carded his fingers through the strands then fisted it into his hand as Roman brought him closer and closer to the edge.

''I know we've done this before but...shit,'' Seth chuckled breathlessly.

''I didn't know you were this good of a cock slut, Ro.'' He praised and let his eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

Roman's mouth moved down to Seth's balls to give them some attention, and at Seth's words, one of his hands palmed himself over his sweats and he damn near mewled with his mouth still pleasuring Seth.

At the sound, Seth's eyes reopened, and he looked into Roman's glassy brown eyes that now looked more like a stunning bronze as the wolf in him struggled to contain itself.

''Oh really?” Seth grinned wickedly.

''You like that, Ro?'' Seth cooed seductively.

''You need this, uh? You need to have your mouth filled with a big hard cock. Hm?'' He continued filthily.

Roman couldn't believe his luck.

If he weren't so focused on bringing pleasure to Seth, he'd pinch himself right now.

And he'd beat himself up for being so stupid.

Of course, Jon and Seth understood him and tried their hardest to indulge his needs.

Of course.

Roman replied with a sharp nod as he swirled his velvety tongue along the head of Seth's cock.

''Yeah. Thought so.'' Seth quipped.

Both men were so engrossed in their activities, that they missed the moment Jon stood up to grab the small bottle of lube he always kept in his carry-on bag.

Roman struggled to not let out a whimper of disappointment when he felt Jon shake him by the shoulder slightly.

''Oh, you don't wanna get fucked? Okay, my mistake.'' Jon lifted his hands, trying to keep a straight face as he made to put the bottle back in its original place.

Seth and Jon burst into laughter as Roman hurriedly stood up to grab Jon to try and stop him.

''No.'' Roman stuttered.

''No?'' Jon raised a brow.

''I mean- fuck me.'' Roman tried again as his cheeks burned in embarrassment or arousal-both, maybe.

After the three of them got themselves fully undressed, Seth and Jon settled Roman onto the bed.

Seth was in charge of keeping Roman as relaxed as possible while Jon stretched him open gently.

Before too long the Samoan's hips tried their damnest to match the delicious rhythm of Jon’s fingers.

His moans escalated when he felt Seth's large hand firmly wrap itself around his throat as the man whispered filth into his ear.

''You want it?'' Seth whispered huskily.

His lips took their time to nibble and suck on the hot skin of Roman's neck before moving back up to his ear to whisper more filth.

''I might get in there after Mox.'' Seth chuckled huskily, playfully biting Roman's scruffy chin.

Eventually, Jon slowly withdrew his fingers, deeming Roman ready for him.

As he slowly entered Roman, Jon let him gradually adjust to his girth.

After a little while, he started to move his hips a little faster, gripping Roman's hips tightly for leverage.

''How's that?'' Jon breathed.

All Roman could do was moan in response and roll his hips even more enthusiastically against Jon’s.

He clawed at Jon’s forearms as the sensations of Jon thrusting into him and Seth whispering and mouthing against him overwhelmed him.

His body felt like it was on fire in the most delicious way possible.

''Don't stop...! Please...'' Roman whimpered.

Their golden eyes locked as their bodies moved in unison.

Roman's eyes lost focus on Jon’s as he felt the head of Jon’s cock brush up against that bundle of nerves.

''Ohh, that's the spot, is it? S' that feel good? Look at you taking me like a good little cockwhore.'' Jon’s words came out slurred as his thrusts continued.

''I think you can do better than that, Sir.'' Roman smirked.

''Harder.'' Roman commanded.

''Was that a challenge, Ro?'' Jon lifted a brow as he asked.

He felt his balls tighten as Roman continued to smirk at him while he looked at him through his lashes.

''You can take that however you want.'' Roman shrugged.

''...Pin him down.''

Roman's breath was taken away as Seth pinned his wrists above his head against the bed and Jon started jackhammering into him.

At first Roman's mouth remained open in a silent moan until his body began to tremble and small whimpers left his lips.

''Got nothin to say now, huh?'' Jon growled, grabbing onto Roman's raven-colored locks roughly.

Jon blinked back the beads of sweat that started to pool along his face.

Then he attached his lips to Roman's for a couple of heated seconds until Roman pulled away and it was like a dam had been opened.

''Please.'' Roman whimpered under his breath repeatedly.

He bit back a wince only to let out a guttural moan when he felt a sharp yet delicious tug against his nipple, and he keened loudly as Seth released the tender bud from between his teeth and he soothed it with his tongue.

''Think he wants you to come inside him, Mox.'' Seth said, as he started to lazily stroke Roman's cock between his and Jon’s bodies.

''Yes...'' Roman hissed.

''Fuckin give it to me. I want it, please. Need it so bad, Sir. Wanna come inside me, sir? Huh?'' Roman babbled, only to get his breath taken away again by Jon’s hands firmly against his throat.

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the overload of sensations coursing through his body as he was being choked and used.

His eyes rolled back into his skull just as Jon reached his peak, releasing a long growl of pleasure along with a sharp bite to Roman's neck that had both Roman and Seth's cocks twitching in arousal.

Jon shivered pleasantly as the mild copper taste of Roman's blood flooded his tastebuds while Roman's entire body shook as Jon’s warm release gushed inside him, and he started to struggle against Seth's strong grip.

Once Seth released his wrists, Roman held onto Jon and Seth, and he shared a heated kiss with Seth.

Roman's own release came soon enough when Seth wrapped his mouth around him, bobbing his head enthusiastically until Roman was left shivering with aftershocks, tears caused by overstimulation streaming down his cheeks.

Roman felt warm all over when soft kisses and caresses were peppered everywhere the men could reach and before Roman knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably, hiding his face into the crook of his elbow as his body shook with silent sobs instead of the pleasure from a few minutes earlier.

''I'm s-sorry...'' Roman cleared the tears away from his throat and wiped his eyes, not meeting Jon’s nor Seth's concerned eyes.

''You alright?'' Jon asked as he lied next to Roman on the bed once he had cleaned them both up.

His fingers carded soothingly through the Samoan's dark hair in an effort to soothe him while Seth continued to pepper soft and loving kisses along Roman's neck, making the man bare his neck to give Seth better access.

''Yes...''Roman sighed pleasantly as he slowly came back down from his high.

''Thank you, guys. And I'm sorry for actin like such an asshole to y'all...I promise I won't hide shit anymore. Okay?''

''We're gonna hold you to that.'' Jon winked.

''... Are we gonna leave this guy's blue balls hangin'?'' Roman asked with a teasing smirk.

''Noo.'' Seth whined through soft laughter.

Roman licked his lips, eyeing Seth seductively before his eyes shone golden again, and he nipped at Seth's nipple playfully, laughing as the man released a gasp of surprise mixed with pleasure.

''You can't just do that, babe.'' Seth whined again in protest.

-----

The next morning, the boys woke up in an extra good mood.

But instead of getting in their usually early-morning workout at the gym, they rolled around in the sheets and spent the day together, getting in their workout without having to leave their room.

(Next Chapter.)

(Prev. Chapter)

#roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose #jon moxley #wwe fic #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #wwe smut #the shield #the shield smut #wwe fan fiction

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anonymousoneshots · 1 year

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I need my writing to somehow reach my target audience, lol. Anyway, here’s a small poll for my next story.

Please check out my other stories and leave some feedback! (18+) Requests are also encouraged, I’ll do my best. xx

#jon moxley #reader insert #roman reigns #wwe x reader #fanfiction #one shot #wwe #wwe one shot #dean ambrose #dean ambrose x reader #roman x reader #x reader #smut #fanfic #aew #fan fiction #the shield #imagine #roman reigns x reader

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 months

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All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 10)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 6.2 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - gun violence, physical violence, strangulation, blood and injuries

Summary: Rory faces down Zorokov in the VIP area of Helios, and things go from bad to worse.

Get ready for a chapter involving violence, hurt/comfort and the ship's "first" kiss

(This is the chapter this whole fic was written for folks)

October 20, 2017 22:18 - Helios - VIP Area

Rory tossed her clutch aside, the bag skidding across the polished floor as her hand quickly lifted to block Zorokov's attempts to make a physical connection. Striking out at him with her weaponized fist, it collided with his jaw, wiping the grin off his face before his hands clamped down around her neck. Tightening. Squeezing . Her breath caught in a choke hold, squeaking out of her, leaving her with nothing in her lungs to hold onto. Wrestling against him on the couch, her mind raced, the strain on her shoulder from her last fight gnawing at her and restricting her movements. The makeup covering her bruises wiping away to show her fragility.

The Russian’s fist broke her skin as it collided with her cheek and mouth. Fight or flight kicking in and the reptile brain ran away with itself before she could focus on what her training had taught her to do. It didn’t help that she had two drinks in her. Her normally controlled mind was becoming frantic. In a situation like this, it was all about waiting the attacker out, fighting them off until backup could arrive. She wasn’t alone. Her cover was blown, but someone was coming. This was a combat situation. She had to persevere. Even as the minutes passing felt like hours with the adrenaline coursing through her body, seeming to slow down time.

Her vision began to blur with the tears that welled at the corners of her eyes as she continued to gasp for air, wheezing in a pointless exercise in futility while his hands were still wrapped around her. Lifting her knee, Rory slammed it up into his groin, knocking the fight out of him as he slumped against her. A loud groan leaking from her as she managed to finally catch her breath. Quick to push him off of her, she rolled off the couch and landed on top of him, making a b-line for the door. Crawling forwards on her hands and knees, she dragged her limbs behind her, weighed down and heavy as she sucked in mouthfuls of air. Like wading through a tar pit, the marble floor turned into thick bands of black holding her back from reaching the door, her arms and legs shaking as the room seemed to tunnel around her.

John, where are you? Of all the things to be her first thought while in the midst of danger, this was the last one she had expected. Caught in a life-or-death scenario, it wasn’t a thought of her father, or some memory of her mother, it was a desperate plea for the man who promised he would be there in a heartbeat for her. She didn’t care if he’d end up ripping a strip off her. She didn’t care if she’d never see the field again for her actions. She just needed the support. She didn’t want to be alone, not anymore.

Zorokov grunted as he pulled himself up to his feet, and in a short time he was in pursuit of her. Grabbing at the hem of her dress and pulling her along the floor back towards him. “Ты маленькая сучка!” <Russian: You little bitch!> His fingers dove into the short, choppy strands of her hair and yanked back on them, forcing her up to her feet. “I know who you are. I know you’ve been tracking me.” Dragging her over to the wall, his free hand clamped around her neck and shoved her back against it. “You think I wouldn’t know about my investments! I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done.”

The cold marble stung her back, sending a shock down her spine as a pained hiss escaped her. His grip only got tighter on her hair and her scalp burned. A tremor shaking in her arm, spread through her body like wildfire. Her knees buckling. Fear hitting her faster than her self-preservation could hold it off. The dam was breaking.

She shook her head, pushing that doubt out of her thoughts. Willingly ignoring it. She was a soldier. A good one. Special forces. An asset. Trained to survive until another day at all costs. To do whatever it took. Contending with blood and dirt and threats, acts of violence few should ever see, people who hated her, who wanted her dead. She would fight and show no quarter.

The Russian freed his hand from her tresses, wrapping it around her throat as well, pulling her towards him just to toss her back against the wall again. Her head snapping back to crack against the hard marble, the reverberations causing her teeth to rattle in her jaw. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, a ragged roar ripped out of her throat as her hands rose to his face, clawing at the cheeks leaving angry red lines speckled with blood in the wake of her nails against his skin. Heart jackhammering in her chest, Rory's throat began to seize up as his hands squeezed tighter around it in response, his thumbs pressing in against her windpipe. Constricted .

Choked groans and gasps leaked out of what little room she still had available for air. Straining to breathe, she just kept hitting. Struggling . Desperation setting in. Looking like a prey animal backed into the corner with large eyes turning red and bloodshot as the veins in her forehead throbbed against the skin, the tendons in her neck squeezing back against his hands. Thrashing . She threw her head forward and collided straight into the bridge of his nose, allowing her a chance to catch her breath as his hands released for just a moment only to come straight back.

Dragging her to the floor with a growl, he showed no mercy even as her legs started to kick under him. Her high heels slipped off her feet as she scraped them across the cold, sterile floor. Bare feet left skidding back and forth as every part was still inclined to keep her alive like some wild, feral beast. Leaning down, his face coming closer, he forced more of his weight onto her throat, watching intently as her features shifted through shades of pink and scarlet. She continued to maul at him, her punches barely landing, making the brass knuckles she wore feel obsolete.

Still trying to gasp in a futile plea for help, Rory knew John and Andrew were on the other side. Listening . An audience for what Zorokov decided would be the end of her life, but she had other plans. Backup was on the way, she swore she could hear Price in her ear, it was either that or some figment of the imagination to instill hope. Either way, she needed to make sure to keep herself breathing long enough for help to arrive. Grabbing her attacker by the face, digging her nails into his cheeks until the warmth of his blood touched her fingertips, Rory pulled him down towards her mouth. Biting into his lip with all of her might, she forced her teeth to meet and clamp down together, ripping out a chunk of it. With a quick turn of her head, she spat it out onto the floor. The wet, fleshy bit of meat splattering on the floor in a small pool of blood, while more of it spilled from the Russian’s open wound down onto her. Proving to herself, once and for all, that she was no lamb, never meant for the slaughter, and Zorokov was no predator – not like her .

His eyes went wide, like a crazed and rabid animal. “чертова сука” <Russian: Fucking bitch>, he screamed, howling as blood pumped through his fingers while he fondled at his mouth.

Crawling backwards, her feet and hands slid against the floor in her desperate attempt to make as much space between them as possible. Lungs straining for oxygen, her neck already swollen and bruised from the crushing strength of Zorokov’s hands, she couldn't get enough distance before he pounced on her, his fingers knotting into the material of her dress, clenching it in a fist.

“Get the fuck off me, you cunt ,” Rory rasped. Swinging her brass-knuckled fist towards his face, she connected with his jaw and shattered it, sending several teeth flying from his slack mouth, enamel tinkling along the marble floor.

Falling backwards, Zorokov’s suit jacket opened to reveal the shoulder harness he wore underneath, and her hands flew to grab the gun. Hands shaking – but not from fear – she was overcome with rage. Primal . Working off pure instinct. Snarling like a wolf, she shot him twice through the gut, but she never flinched, not even as the muzzle flashed and the boom of gunshots rang out. Standing there, staring down at him, catching her breath as her chest burned, each rasp coming from her was another reminder of how close she got to the end, of just how dangerous her chosen career could be.

Keeping her gun pointed at the oligarch while he rolled and writhed on the ground, she waited for her cavalry. One false move and she’d shoot again with no remorse, knowing well enough the shots she had already made were nowhere near a killing blow. They were simply enough to subdue him, to keep him down.

Each muffled noise of exertion Price could hear over the comms was enough to drive him insane. That part of him, that violent part that he controlled while in the middle of a battlefield was being riled, shaking at the bars of its cage to get out and make the one who was hurting her suffer. The choked hisses that slipped past her lips, the groans of pain… he could half imagine the light fading from her warm hazel eyes already and it turned his stomach.

Storming his way through the bouncer and into the club, not caring about any pretense of being there for a good time or just being a civilian, he carried his M1911 .45 pistol at the ready – if anyone was stupid enough to take him on now, they deserved the bullet they were going to get. His blood rushed through his ears, pounding against his eardrums louder than the music through the speakers. So long as he could hear those choked gasps, it meant she was still alive. He could do as he promised.

Keep fighting, sweetheart. Just keep fighting. It was a ticking clock, her life in the balance and he would stop at nothing to get to her. This was his fault; he should have never agreed to this. He knew better.

Hearing the gunshots over the comms only put the fear of God into him, his heart beating so fast he thought it would tear right out of his ribcage. Any restraint on his part was now totally lost at the sound of the thunderous bang, not once but twice, and his steely gaze went wide below a furrowed brow. “Rory,” Price growled into his earpiece, practically snarling as he marched up into the VIP area, skipping multiple steps at a time to get there that much faster.

There was no real security presence blocking him yet, even after he had decked the bouncer outside to get in. The music was so loud it was likely impossible for most to have actually heard the shots anyway, drowning it all out while blending in with the hard bass thumping through the speakers that vibrated up through the legs of the patrons from the floor. It was a clear route. His MI6 assistance en route with the authorities. There was finally something they could pin on the Russian prick, allowing them to take him in for questioning. He hated that it had to happen at her expense.

Shooting the lock off and bashing open the heavy door into the marble laden room, Price quickly found it had all gone silent, up here the music was nothing more than a low hum. Strained, rasping breaths filled the room in stereo. The target lay crumpled on the floor, his dress shirt pooling with red and considering the tang of metal in the air, Price was sure it wasn't wine. While standing over Zorokov's body, with a gun in her hands pointed at the Russian's head, Rory was frozen stiff. A loud wheezing coming from her with each strained inhale. Her eyes affixed on one spot – the point between her target’s eyes.

“Rory?” Her name was spoken in a hoarse whisper, and she said nothing in return. Didn’t move. She just stayed vigilant over the beaten and bloodied body of a man who had done horrendous things and showed no guilt or remorse, a monster with a distinct utter lack of humanity.

Price circled the situation slowly, weapon drawn, coming around to stand at the head of their target. Confronted by the Sergeant coated in blood, her dress stained and clinging to her, trembling as her eyes remained firmly planted on the man on the ground in front of her.

“You can put the gun down, Sergeant. He’s in custody, we have him.”

Her jaw clenched tighter, her brow furrowing deeply, lip twitching into a sneer. The wolf inside her barely held back by a thin leash, ready to protect itself at all costs.

“It’s over, Rory. It’s over!”

Each ragged breath of Zorokov’s on the ground punctuated the fact that she had very nearly killed him, the expanse of his injuries not entirely known yet – that mattered little to Price at that moment.

“Hey, hey…” he drew closer to her, moving slowly. Her pupils were like pinpricks, eyes flaring wide, her muscles shaking and twitching. “Look at me, sweetheart. Owen’s on his way, he’ll deal with the target. I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?” Stepping as close to her as he thought she’d allow, Price stopped, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You can put the gun down, Rory, he’s not going anywhere.”

Looking back over at the bedraggled appearance of the Russian bleeding out on the floor, his scowl deepened at what she had been forced to do to protect herself, at what she was capable of… the wolf she said she was …

“You made damn sure of that.”

When she refused to drop the weapon, he took no action to try to take the gun from her. That was the security she needed after what she had been through, the protection she craved, a shield she required to keep her from seeing herself as the victim. And while he knew she had been fighting for her life, it was obvious she was the victor. She wasn’t the unassuming, pretty face. She fought tooth and nail for her survival. That was training and skill.

Shrugging off his coat, Price draped it over her shoulders, keeping the chill off her skin as the blood started to dry. Her unwavering stare on Zorokov not shifting even as the doors opened once more and Andrew entered the room with several members of law enforcement.

The MI6 agent ran over to her, pushing his way past the captain to run his hands down Rory’s arms. “Christ, she’s in shock.” Bright blue eyes tried to look into hers, but she was empty. His hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking them gently. “What the hell did he try to do to you, Lamb?” Andrew whispered.

The steely gaze of the veteran soldier scanned over the scene, remaining hard and unbreakable, even in the face of something horrendous happening to someone meant to be under his protection. “You have this covered, yeah?” Price’s voice a low growl as he spoke to the MI6 agent in his midst. “I’m taking her back to the safehouse.”

“We’ll get the bastard some medical attention and then deal with him properly.”

Giving Andrew a curt nod, Price slowly directed Rory away, not forcing her to do too much, her head turning to stay trained on the target. His hand bracing her lower back, reminding her she wasn't alone. He had her.

Approaching the door, her grip began to loosen on the gun in her hand, her fingers slipping free of it until Price was finally able to remove it from her grasp completely. Some part of her must have realized her harrowing ordeal was over. He knew it likely wouldn’t count for much now, that she was far afield after what had happened to her, her mind catching up, but he needed to keep her aware. Informed.

“Taking you back to the safehouse, my girl.”

Careful about not touching her too much, gentle with how he placed his hands upon her, Price held back every ounce of anger that chewed him up inside. Furious with how this had all gone down and how badly he wanted Zorokov to face brutal justice for it.

Keeping his voice hushed to a rasping whisper, he kept talking to her, “You’re with me, Rory. You’re safe.” Her silence in response was deafening. He had to remain calm for her. Strong . She needed someone she could rely on. Support was critical. He could do that much for her at least.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the vehicle, Rory’s hands shook as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, the lighter weaving back and forth causing the flame to flicker as she tried to light it. The warm amber glow on her face made it clear that what had happened had taken a toll on her. The skin around her eyes was left red and puffy, sore with the lack of tears spilled. Shuddering breaths and a trembling lip were shrouded by the cigarette as she inhaled, letting the smoke fill her painful lungs. Running her other hand up and down her throat as if she were trying to massage the bruises away from under all the dried and caked on blood, reassuring herself that she was alive, that she had made it.

Staring out the windshield, her vision blurred as the lights of the downtown core haloed out towards her. The window beside her opened just a crack to let the smoke out as she exhaled a gray plume. Sitting in total silence, Rory didn’t say a single word to anyone. There was nothing to say.

Moments later, Price climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, his piercing gaze lingering on her, but she couldn’t even offer him a sideways glance. She just kept smoking. The constant rhythm of the inhale and exhale of air, the inflation and deflation of her lungs, it was all she had to keep her steady. The pounding of her blood in her veins still hammering in her ears, dulling everything else around her. She’d been shot at, her body wounded by shrapnel, bruised and beaten in hand-to-hand, but this … what she was feeling now was far worse. She came so close, staring right into the eyes of a man who wanted to kill her. It wasn’t some faceless, nameless enemy soldier on the other side of drawn battle lines. It was a man who had no qualms about taking what he wanted and breaking it, and he had aimed to do that with her as well.

As she continued to smoke, Price’s voice droned in her ear. She didn’t hear the words. She couldn't make out a damn thing. In that moment, it was like her body wasn’t even hers, she was sitting outside of it. Merely observing. A passive witness to something horrific. She had felt this way before, after returning to base the night of Al Ghulam’s capture. All she could do then was try and shut it all out. Sleep it off. Close her eyes and forget about what had happened. Another memory to push down.

Pull yourself up by the bootstraps, Rory. Stiff upper lip.

The vehicle moved, streets disappearing behind her. The flashing traffic lights reflected off the drops of rain that had started to streak down the windshield, decorating the vehicle interior like stained glass. Looking down at her lap, her shaking hand clung desperately to the cigarette held between her fingers, and her eyes began to sting. Tears welling in the corners. No matter how hard she fought to hold them back, they still fell, rolling down her cheeks with each heavy sob. Even biting down on her lip could do little to stop them.

Rory wished she could curl herself up into a ball. Imagining the look on her father’s face if he saw her like this. This was never the life he had wanted for her. It wasn’t the one her mother would have wanted either. Yet, it was all she knew now, she was aware of the risks, and tonight she had come all too close to being just another soldier in a casket dying for a war that never seemed to end.

Price could do nothing as she sat there and cried in the passenger seat beside him, her shoulders shaking with each heave of her chest. His eyes had to be kept on the road. She likely wouldn’t want him hanging all over her anyway in the state she was in. If anything, she needed the release. A pressure valve allowing whatever she had dealt with to finally wash over her, all the adrenaline and the fear leaving her system with each new tear that fell down her cheeks.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to lean over and wipe away the streaks that stained her reddened skin with his hands, to hold her in his arms and tell her nothing would ever harm her again, that he would never let anything harm her again. But that wasn’t his place, and it wasn’t the time either. She was the type who would tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine while she was at it too. A career soldier didn’t let others tell them they needed to be protected. His heart ached having to see her so distraught, so broken by what had occurred up in that room while she was trapped and alone. He should have gotten there sooner. It was stupid to even let her enter that club by herself, let alone be left in the clutches of a bastard like Zorokov, but she was so sure of herself, and he trusted her.

He took a deep breath and sighed as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles shifting from red to white. He shouldn’t be thinking that way about her, seeing her as just some woman who couldn’t defend herself. She was the living proof that she absolutely could. Covered in blood, her enemy left worse for wear, and she was right there sat beside him – in shock, perhaps – but she did that, she fought for her survival. She was a warrior through and through. Seeing her as the defenseless little lamb is what got people in trouble with her, he should have known better by now, that was just the face she chose to wear.

Driving down a back alley, he brought Rory into the safehouse building through a side access door and led her straight upstairs into their room. Rushing her into the bathroom, he stood her against the sink where she continued to stare out, her rasping breaths the only sound she made. “You’re a mess,” John rumbled as he took in the sight of her under the fluorescent lights. Her skin slick with the blood of another man and her own. Tears cutting through the grime that covered her face, leaving a trail like veins through sedimentary rock. Held against the sink counter, her fingers wrapped around its edge, white knuckled, Rory trembled as the reverberations of her actions coursed through her body.

Looming over her, and despite the imposing force he usually presented, the bulldog broke as he took in the sight of the normally stoic soldier crumbling before him – some things were even too much for someone like Rory to bear. “I’m gonna clean you up,” he purred softly, the rasp of his voice melting away as her hazel stare remained absent. Reaching around her to turn on the sink faucet, he moved carefully so as not to spook her, letting the water run, consistent like white noise out of the tap.

Grabbing a washcloth, he ran it under the water, letting it soak into the fibers. Squeezing out the excess liquid into the sink, he leaned into her and began by rubbing the cloth against her hairline, getting the blood out of her hair. All the while he stayed focused on her eyes, the way they’d softly flutter shut with each touch of the cool water against her. Slowly but surely, she lost the rigidity of a body post-mortem, and her gaze finally lifted to focus on him.

“There you are.” A gentle smirk tugged at his lips as he continued to wipe her face clean of the viscera splattered against it, his free hand coming to rest on her jaw as he tilted her chin up to catch the streaks of bloody water that rolled down her neck with the cloth exposing the bruises that darkened her skin. His stomach twisted at the sight, but he refused to let that show on his face. “‘Fraid I might’ve lost you back there, Sinclair.”

She rolled her jaw, blinking several times. “Did I kill him?”

“Came damn near, wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. But what about you, eh?” Lingering on her pinprick pupils, he could tell she wasn’t quite clear of the woods yet. “You with me?”

Lifting her hand from the counter’s edge she rubbed at her brow, pulling her hand away to find her skin awash with rust-stained water. “Is that my blood or his?”

“ His .” He took the cloth and wiped the blood away from the palm of her hand, rinsing the cloth out once more.

With most of the blood removed, her split brow and lip were clearly visible, the skin already swelling and sore around the vicinity of the injuries. Red dribbled down her temple from a cut on her scalp as well. She’d put up one hell of a fight, there was no mistaking that. She was a scrapper, refusing to be prey – yet more proof of the wolf that lay below the skin of the lamb that she presented to the world.

“Rory?” Price whispered out her name and her eyes snapped up towards him, the laser focus of a sniper burning a hole straight through him. “You did what you had to do back there, you know that, yeah?”

“I know. It was him or me.”

“Exactly.” He dabbed the cloth against her split brow, putting pressure on the wound while wiping away the blood that had begun to clot into the hair. “You did a good job, Sergeant.” She huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh as she winced. He already knew the reaction wasn’t from the pain of the wound, but rather the sting on the ego. “I mean it. You gave him hell.”

Laughing if only not to cry, she stared up at him with bloodshot eyes. “So I’m not going to be sent back to the SRR then?”

“No. Just gave me more of a reason to keep you around.” He looked down at her through his creased brow, his voice raspy and low. “You’re a fighter, Rory. We want to stand any chance of protecting the rest of the world, we’re gonna need that.”

His fingers curled under her chin as he brought the cloth to her lip, dabbing away the blood that bubbled up to the surface of the pink flesh, his focus set on her mouth. Her doe-eyed stare brightening as she watched the way his tongue poked at the corner of his lip as he cleaned her up, putting all of his attention on her. How despite the roughness of the skin of his hands, and the callouses that hardened his grip, he could be as gentle as he was with her.

“You better not be falling in love with me, Sinclair.” Price’s hardened gaze lifted to look her in the eye. “I’m still your Captain.” His smirk causing the creases around his eyes and the lines on his face to deepen.

“You’re not as charming as you think, you know?”

He gave her a half grin before rinsing the cloth again and bringing it to her scalp, squeezing the cool water from the rag, letting the drops fall down the contours of her face and drip down the bare skin exposed at the neckline of her dress. His eyes never left hers, observing her pupils slowly start to expand and return to normal. “Better?”

Rory barely moved an inch as she tried to nod, her hands wrapping around the ledge of the sink counter once more as the blood rushed to her head. Swallowing thickly, she shifted against the sink, struggling against a sore throat. “He was our target, I shouldn’t have –” she stopped herself. “We needed to question him.”

“We still will, but that’s none of your concern right now.” His steely gaze focused on her eyes, tenderness in his voice, “You got us the in we needed. That’s what matters.”

Her eyes fell from his, her stare landing on the tremor that continued to shake through her hands and up her arms. “I should take a shower,” she stammered. “Get as much rest as I can.”

“Whatever you need, Sergeant.” He backed away, giving her some space before placing the bloodied cloth into the sink behind her.

Rubbing at her throat once more, her fingers traced over the imagined indents from phantom hands that still wrapped around her. “Thank you, John.”

“For what?”

“Looking out for me. Cleaning me up.” She cleared her throat, trying to cough out the tender swelling in her trachea. Her eyes lifted to look at him once more, a sincerity in her eyes that her words couldn’t truly express in the moment. “I appreciate it.”

“Wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not your job to protect me.”

“You have my six, I have yours,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Right.”

Her eyes fell to the cheap linoleum floor and his brow furrowed at her reaction. It was clear her ego was still bruised after the fight she went through. Caught off guard, made to feel weak, powerless – she didn’t deserve to feel like that. She was no lamb, despite the callsign, she had that beast in her just like him. Just like every veteran soldier. Nose wrinkling as he tightened his jaw, he had to say something. “Hey, I didn’t save you, Rory. Did that all by yourself. Don’t go thinkin’ that I don’t know you can hold your own, because I do. You’re tough. I mean that. You don’t become a Sergeant ‘cause of a pretty face,” he said earnestly, his voice hoarse. “You have the experience. Not everyone could have done what you did in that situation. Not everyone would have lived.” He moved closer, shifting his weight on his feet. “You don’t need me protecting you, but I’m happy to do it.”

Before he even realized what was happening, her hands lifted to cup his jaw and card her fingers through the whiskers on his cheeks. Rational thought failed to hit either of them as she brought his face down to meet hers in a kiss. It wasn’t hungry or rushed like the last time they had been this close. It wasn’t hormones and alcohol fueling it. It was soft…and safe .

His forehead pressed to hers, but he didn’t dare touch her with his hands, not after what she’d been through. Grabbing the sink ledge instead, he leaned down into her, letting her take the lead, happy to let her steal the very oxygen from his lungs.

Her lips were soft, more tender than anything he had felt in years. He did his best not to get too carried away, lost in the sensation of a mouth he had thought about when he had been away on duty. That random encounter he had never planned on making as much of an impression on him as it did, especially as they had come back together after so long. Knowing just how kiss-bruised he had left her mouth the last time, full lips left that much plumper, the taste of her clung to his lips for what felt like days. God, she was gorgeous then – and having gotten to know her as the soldier – she was even more stunning now.

The kiss ended as quickly as it happened, her hands dropping as her lips pulled away from him, her forehead remaining pressed to his as she looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Do you see me complainin’?” The grizzled soldier was made soft, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She closed her eyes and pushed her hands through her hair. Sighing as she dragged the limp, wet locks back and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“It’s okay. Shit happens,” he kept his rasping voice low and quiet, the way someone would speak to calm a frightened animal. “We can just chalk it up to stress.”

“But what if it’s not, John?”

It was his turn to clear his throat, pulling back as he crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed the back of his neck, the lines in his face creasing as he grimaced.

“I see the way you’ve been looking at me. The way we’ve been flirting. Circling around each other. It’s not just me feeling this, is it?”

“It’s being in close proximity with someone you –” He paused, staring into her eyes. “Rory, I –”

“I’ve explained it to myself a million different ways. Trying to remind myself that we’re professionals, that this is just another mission. That whatever I’m feeling is some residual from that time we had together…and who knows, maybe it still is. With us trapped in close quarters, it doesn't make it any easier. I know that even bringing up this conversation with you is stepping out of bounds. You’re my commanding officer. This is fraternizing with a subordinate…I don’t do this sort of thing.”

He tightened his jaw, wincing slightly before speaking, “We seem to have a history of going outside of our norm with each other.”

He wasn't wrong.

Groaning, she rubbed her hands over her face. “So what do we do? Finish out the rest of this mission like nothing’s happened and then we go our separate ways again?”

Stepping away from her, severing the tie as much as every muscle in his body wanted the exact opposite, his hands instinctively rose to where his tactical vest would normally sit on his shoulders, wishing he had that sort of protection right now. “I don’t think this is the right time to be bringing this up, eh? You’re worn out. Have your shower, get some rest. We’ll start fresh in the morning,” he said, giving her a friendly tap on the shoulder.

Rory nodded, her eyes dimming as they fell once more. “Yes, Captain.”

And just like that, the floodgates between them were shut once more.

Leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind him, Price sat on the edge of his bed lighting up another cigar. Rubbing at his brow in a concentrated effort to ignore the taste of her on his lips, trying to drown out the pervasive smell of iron that clung to her and filled his nostrils as the sound of water spraying from the shower head began. His heart and head were telling him two very different things. It was a dangerous game to get tied up with someone you worked with, especially as a soldier. Things weren’t supposed to get personal. Taking his mind off the mission, off the task at hand, meant people could get hurt, or worse, killed.

She was almost killed.

He heaved out a sigh, blowing out smoke with the intensity of a dragon. There was no denying the fact that he’d already let her get close, closer than most. And God help him, he had been jealous. He wanted her . It was as simple as that. But nothing about what they might have felt for one another was inherently simple. She was right about fraternizing. They were edging up to the line and if they crossed it, if even a whiff of that reached their superiors, they could lose everything. The only saving grace was that this was just one mission. One mission, and then she could go back to the SRR and he’d be back with SAS and no one would be any the wiser.

Christ, he shouldn’t have been thinking like this. Trying to come up with ways to work around the rules, but it’s what he was used to. Skirting around the red tape to do what was necessary, going above the law to make things right. What was happening here though, it wasn’t the same thing. This wasn’t about what served the greater purpose for others, this was about him. And her .

God, the things he was already willing to do for her.

#call of duty #fan fiction #john price #captain price #captain john price #john price x oc #hurt/comfort #slow burn #first kiss #oc: rory sinclair #skelly writes #ship: you are the sword to my shield #fic: all along the watchtower #chapter 10

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