Favourite Nurse

Favourite nurse

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Here is a small something for you guys :)

I'm thinking about making a part 2 with some smut but I'm gonna let y'all decide if you want that <33

Link for Part 2 below :)

https://www.tumblr.com/daddypriceugh/736715457204273152/favourite-nurse-part-2?source=share

Tw: meantion of wounds

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The hospital lights were too bright and the people too loud.

That's at least what Ghost thought as he sat on a small bed waiting for you, his favourite nurse. He has been here for 3 hours now, and his wounds were still open and ready to get infected. It's not like he had the chance to leave prior, but he chose to wave every other nurse off when they came his way.

None is like you.

He shifted, making the bed squeak and huffed. Where were you?

Right on cue you're figure appeared from around the corner and shit did you look good.

Your hair was braided with some strand loose at the front. You had a smile plastered on your face, which vanished when you saw him.

A frown formed as you approached him making his heart beat fast in uncertainty. What were you thinking?

He stared at your mouth when you stood in front of him, starting to speak.

"What happened?" Your voice was laced with worry and confusion. Wasn't he here yesterday?

Ghost cleared his throat which felt odly dry.

"Had a fight" he answered shortly. You nodded in response.

"Alright ehm- well let's get to work then" You said but the last part was more for you than for him.

He took his shirt of to reveal the wounds and you prayed that he couldn't see you gawking at his abs. Like damn what did they feed him.

Shaking those thoughts away you started disinfecting the cuts, trying to stay calm.

Why did his presence bother you so much?

"How was your day" His voice cut the tension and you thanked him mentally.

"It- uh it was good yeah. Not many people came in and...yup" you said while biting your lip.

He hummed contently, probably pleased with the answer.

The minutes went by and you finally finished your work.

"Alright everything is patched up now. Take this cream and rub it over the wounds a bit it will help with the pain"

He took the cream from you, fingers brushing against yours. It may sound weird but you could have sworn that you saw him redden underneath his mask.

"Thanks doc"

He stood up and grabbed his bag, slugging it over his right shoulder.

"No problem really. But please take care of yourself, I really don't want to see you here again tomorrow"

You mentally slapped yourself for that sentence. 'I don't want to see you' like wtf was wrong with you.

"I-i mean I want to see you ju-just not hurt" you rambled, trying to save yourself from your self-driven-shit.

"Don't worry I know what you meant" he said softly, hand was reaching to your face and to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You face warmed up and probably reddened at this gesture.

"I'll see you then Ghost" you said as he walked down the hallway.

He turned around.

"See you doc. And it's Simon"

Tainted Heart

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: After not seeing you for a few weeks, you come back to the base acting strange.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

TW: sexual themes, smut but not too explicit. anxiety, self-doubt. worried!simon, poor baby thinks he's done something wrong💔comfort and fluff, mind the english!🐸

A/N: okay so yeah, i can't believe I finished this so fast. anyway enjoy!🥹✨🫶🏻💚gif's not mine' iloveyousimonriley!💗

Masterlist✨

You try to even your shaky breathing before opening the door of the meeting room. Taking more than usual to toughen up, the last thing you want is anyone asking if you were okay. Not even your teammates and especially not Simon. Hands trembling when you open and close them, a cold sweat that runs down your spine with the clear signs of anxiety that will soon start to bubble up if you don't get this over with soon.

Another moment passes when all you can hear is your own heart racing in your ears and the world spins for a second; pushing the door open you enter. Everyone's already there, sitting around the wooden table. Four pair of eyes find you, Soap and Gaz smile your way and John nods motioning for you to take your seat next to Ghost. But you can't bring yourself to do it. You need space. You need to be left alone to battle with your own mind. Instead you grab one of the chairs and set it far from them, sitting in the far corner.

Price's eyebrows furrow but doesn't comment on it, merely resuming what he was just telling the rest of the task force. Everyone's attention is back to the Captain except for Ghost. Ghost who's frowning so hard behind the mask at your refusal to join them. It sparks a sense of irritation and worry.

He knows he shouldn't be feeling that way. You are not even together, even if a few nights spent in each other's rooms had taken place, he considered himself something akin to a friend more than just your superior or a few hook ups here and then. Were you important to him? Absolutely yes. He needed to see your eyes, needed you to look his way so he can see through you as he usually does. Your beautiful eyes would tell him what he needed to know.

But you ignore him.

Glaring at Price without really looking. Lost in your head. You know you should be paying attention but it's all static to your ears, it's the sound of every pen writing down on a sheet. Of feet being dragged across the tile floor. Bodies shifting in their seats. Someone sipping on water.

One of the boys making a comment as your leg bounces up and down not being able to stop it. All the voices inside are muffled and you just want to get out of there so bad.

"Sergeant?" Price calls you, raising his voice and pulling yourself back from your stupor.

Eyes blinking rapidly as your attention turns to him and the room is deadly silent. Was that a hair pin dropping in the hallway?

"Yes Captain?" You ask, body numb and cold.

Price sighs.

"I asked if there's anything else you want to know about the mission? You're leaving in two weeks with Ghost."

"Oh." The answer is muttered so lowly they can barely hear your voice. You find the face of the Lieutenant for one second before looking away as if it had burned you. Simon's body goes stiff. "No."

Not convinced but not wanting to push for another answer he dismisses all of you. You're storming out of the room before he's fully done, leaving the four men taken aback by your strange demeanor.

It's not until you've reached the women's barracks that you stop. If anyone had followed you, you didn't notice too preoccupied and deep in that somber haze that's been clouding your mind since you got back from home.

Memories of everything that went wrong. And the memories of the man across the room.

-

A beautiful, warm feeling forms in your belly, big hands tightly hold your waist. His face hiding in the crook of your neck as your arms circle his broad shoulders holding onto him, sinking up and down on his lap. Sweet sounds of skin slapping against skin echo around the quiet night of his room. Simon mutters sweet nothings in your ear as you both chase your highs, coming undone at the same time he forces you took straight to his brown eyes and your heart flutters, overwhelmed at the way he takes in your presence and breathes the essence of you. Just you as a whole. He doesn't let you go until he's spilled everything inside you, massaging you over the soft fabric of your —his— shirt that neither bothered to take off, too enraptured to care.

"Hey, you with me?" giving a small squeeze to your hip Simon let's you touch his face and trace the scars that adorn the uneven parts of his skin. He notices the way your attention seems to drift away from where you are.

"Yeah. Was thinking about us."

His brows lift.

"What about us?" Inhaling deeply you shake your head lifting from your spot and walking on somewhat wobbly legs, Simon follows you to the bathroom wondering why you're acting so strange. "Sweetheart?"

"It's nothing, I promise." He watches as you clean yourself, he could've done it —he has every other time— but now with your sudden change he doesn't know what to think. "I have to go. My parents are waiting for me."

Clenching his jaw he decided to not pressure you on the matter. Ghost was aware that visiting your parents or talking about them struck a nerve within you.

"Want me to give you a ride?" You look at him through the mirror and shake your head in denial.

"I can take the bus."

"Love..."

"It's fine, Simon." You utter. "It's fine."

Turning around on your heels you walk past him, who stays anchored to the same spot outside the bathroom. He watches as you gather your belongings and begin to dress. Simon crosses his arms over his chest.

"Text me when you get home, please?"

A curt nod is all you give him.

-

You never texted him although he had tried to reach out to you in the next few days and you try not to think about everything that's happened as you strip naked and step in the shower. Warm water washing your body, forehead pressing on the cool tiles of the wall. Shoulders shaking, hands coming to your mouth trying to muffle your sobs.

The all too clear picture of your father telling you no one could ever love you. Your mother doing her best to console you when you had told her the truth.

"I- I think I love him mom." sad eyes fixated on the far wall. "And I don't know what to do."

She had taken your hand with a beautiful smile on her lips.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, darling."

Her words resounding in your ears, and your eyes glimmer with hope. Hope that maybe she's right.

But you had promised to never let it get that far. You'll lose him and that's what pains you the most.

Girl's snickering and walking in the shared showers can be heard from behind, you can't see them but the sound of their giggles fade away in an instant. Gone as soon as they came. Turning off the water pipes you wrap yourself with the white towel neatly hung on the bathroom rack and the moment you slide the curtain open you're met with brown eyes leaning against the opposite wall. He's been waiting, hearing you cry. Shooing away all the women who came with a single hard look their way. No doubt gossiping about the Lieutenant being in the women's section.

A long silence stretches between the two before he finally breaks it, pushing himself off the wall and slowly walking towards you, who holds the towel against your body in a vice-like grip.

"Haven't heard from you in days. Weeks." He starts, eyes following the droplets that travel down your body and back to your face. You've been crying. Simon hates seeing you cry and not being able to anything about it. It makes him feel powerless, worthless. What do you call a man that can't even help his girl? "You've been ignoring me. May I ask what's going on?"

He's calm, controlled despite the rage within him. You never texted him back that day, never answered his calls leaving him worried and dwelling on the whole situation.

His own insecurities sparked the worst.

"Nothing, just personal stuff Lt." clearing your throat you try to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

"Bloody hell don't call me that. I'm asking as...-"

"As what?" You bite back, eyes snapping up at him as tears collect in your eyes. Simon grits his teeth he wants to say a lot but no words come out. "You shouldn't be here. People will talk."

"I'm not leaving until you speak. What's got you like this." You shake your head. "Fucking Christ I can't fix this if you don't tell me." He hisses.

"There's nothing to fix!"

"Just bloody talk to me, I'm losing my mind was it something I said?" He's not screaming but he's panting hard. "Was it something I did?!" He demands, big terrified, desperate orbs screaming for a sign.

"I fell in love with you!" You confess, eyes widening in horror at what you just said. Fervently shaking your head and walking back, away from him. Simon's eyes widen for a fraction before he's reaching out again hands cradling your face in them with a wild, desperate look. Your vision blurred thanks to the tears.

"Say it again." He pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. Like the sound of snow falling from the sky during the winter. You freeze in your spot, chewing on your lower lip.

"I fell in love." His body relaxed, all the tension he has been bearing on his shoulders for the past days slowly fades. "And we agreed we couldn't let this happen. Never. Forgive me Simon."

"Silly girl." He breathes in, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

"What?" You mumble, one hand coming up to rest on one of his.

"You're in my mind even when you're not supposed to be."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I'm an idiot." His forehead connects with yours and you can finally breathe again. After the hellish days at home, the sense of being loved and protected by the man you love is enough to overwhelm you. "Thought I was losing you for a moment. Nearly lost my mind, love."

"No. Never." You promise, hugging him tightly against your body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Simon I just... I just didn't know what to do."

"S'alright." He soothes you. "I've got you." Feeling like the luckiest man alive, even if he didn't deserve to be loved.

He remembers the moment when he had fallen for you, the day you smiled up at him under the starry night on the roof of the safe house, covered in blood and dirt.

He knew there would be no one else after you.

Island - 1

Find the series masterlist

Here we are with a new series! I know, I know. I couldn't resist. This is a crossover with Ark: Survival Evolved but I don't think you need to know anything about the games beyond dinosaurs. And ice age critters.

You've been on the Island for a long time, and been alone for a while. So when you find a group of four men clearly new to the Island, you figure you'll take them under your wing.

After all, what's the worst that can happen?

Eventual Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader

Word count: 4k

The first body was easy to spot, laying in the open on his back. He still had his clothes on, at least, sturdy-looking boots catching your eye with a twist of envy. 

The one beyond him was a little harder to spot, in the shade and wearing dark clothes also, so he blended better. 

Pulling Bessie to a halt, you slid down and patted her side, murmuring for her to stay put. A long stick was easy to find, and you approached the first man with caution. His chest rose and fell slowly - still alive. You took a moment to observe him while he was out. Thick, short hair, muttonchops, nose charmingly crooked. Hm. Hopefully he wouldn’t die so fast as the last one. 

Crouching down a little ways away, you used the stick to poke him. Some people, you’d learned the hard way, came up swinging. 

This one didn’t. He inhaled sharply once, after two pokes, his eyes snapping open. They were the most vibrant blue you’d ever seen on a person. 

“What–?” he started to ask, head turning towards you.

“Easy,” you murmured, holding your hands up in a show of good faith. “I’ll answer all your questions, I promise. Here. Have some water.” You held out a skin to him, watching him drink. He didn’t guzzle it, at least, taking two swallows before handing it back. 

“Where am I?” 

“I’ll answer all your questions,” you reiterated, looking beyond him to the second man. “But first I want to see if that guy is still alive.”

He was on his feet faster than you would have expected, taking a couple staggering steps before finding his stride. “Simon,” he murmured, taking a knee next to the other man. “Oi. Simon.”

Simon woke with a low groan, and you handed the water skin to the first man. You could see two more in the bushes, one of them already stirring on his own. 

“You know those two, then?” If they did… a whole group. It had been a long time since you’d seen a whole group dropped in together. 

“Johnny,” Simon rasped. 

“And Gaz,” the first one said, a hint of relief in his tone. “C’mon, boys, on your feet now.” It took him astoundingly little time to have all of them on their feet. You stood back a little, impressed and a little intimidated. 

They were all big men, clearly strong. You did have Bessie and a weapon, but you preferred not to use them if you didn’t have to. 

“Now,” the first one said, turning back to you. “Where are we?” 

“Welcome to the Island.” You smiled wryly at them. “Don’t ask me how you got here, because I don’t know. I woke up here, same as you lot did. Come on, I’ve got food and more water back at base.” You turned away from them, walking back to Bessie. 

“What the fuck?” One of them, Gaz you thought, exclaimed upon seeing Bessie.

“I know,” you soothed. “She looks scary, but she won’t hurt you. She listens to me.” You patted the big Trike’s nose, grinning when she rumbled affectionately at you. 

“That’s a triceratops.” Gaz was staring at her, unblinking. 

“Oh, that right? I hadn’t noticed.” You grinned, though, to take the sting out of your words. 

“How…?” He trailed off, clearly uncertain how to even phrase that question. 

“I don’t know,” you answered with a little sigh. “Come on, keep up. I’ll explain on the way.” You whistled a short note to Bessie, for her to follow you, and started walking. All four men kept up with you easily. 

“Alright. Well. Like I mentioned, this is the Island. It’s… I don’t know how it’s possible. But it is. Yes, she is a triceratops. No, she’s not the only dinosaur here.” You paused and licked your lips, glancing at your new companions. “This place makes very little sense, honestly.” 

“How did you know to find us?” That was the first man again. 

“I didn’t. Today’s a gathering day, so Bessie and I were just out gathering resources.” You nodded back to the laden bags on Bessie’s sides. “Found you lot by accident.” 

“You’re acting like this is normal,” the Scottish one, Johnny you were pretty sure, said, eyeing you warily.

You huffed soft amusement at him. “I woke up here, same as you,” you answered, smiling a little. “Someone took me in then, showed me the ropes, same as I’ll show you. And you lot aren’t the first I’ve found and taken in. Happens pretty regularly.” 

“What happened to the rest?” Gaz sounded like he almost didn’t want the answer.

“They died.” You swallowed back the memories that evoked. “Not too far from base now.” You glanced at each of them and gave your name. Which is how you learned some of them had other names - Ghost and Soap, particularly. The first one you’d woken was Price. 

“What is this place?” Soap asked, looking around as you walked. 

“Not really sure,” you answered, pausing a moment to look around. Just in case. Never hurt to be on the lookout for predators. “Some forgotten island a mad scientist took over? Some kind of social experiment? Dunno. Doesn’t really matter, anyway.” 

“Are you alone here?” That was Price, those eyes fixed on you. 

“I’m the last of my tribe, yeah.” You shrugged. “But there are other tribes here. I’ll explain more later, if you want. We’ve got to get up here, then around to base.” You led the way, long used to the trek as you headed up the hill. 

Your base was in a nice defensible location, backed up to a steep drop with a solid row of spiked fencing keeping dangerous things out. You pulled open the gate for them, ushering the men through first and then guiding Bessie through. 

“Home sweet home,” you told them with a little smile. It was better than it had been when you’d arrived - you now had several crop plots and berry bushes, a nice paddock set up for Bessie and Watermelon, a separate paddock for Ripper, and a house with plenty of room, even with four new clan members. 

“You did all this?” Soap sounded impressed.

“Goodness no,” you laughed, taking one bag off of Bessie and setting it aside. “No, I’ve had help, most of the time. Some of this was established when I arrived here, but I added the crop plots.” You took off the second bag and ushered Bessie in with Watermelon. “Food first, I’m guessing?” You started for the house without actually waiting for an answer, hauling one of the bags with you. The other could stay outside for a while. 

The four were quiet as they looked around, something for which you were grateful. It gave you a chance to debate your options. You didn’t have enough stew for five people, but you did still have plenty of berries, and it wouldn’t take long to make up a batch of quick rolls. It wouldn’t be a feast, but it would tide them over. 

“You said you don’t know how we got here,” Price said, deliberately making noise as he walked closer to you.

“Right.” You focused on grabbing ingredients for the rolls, sparing him only a quick glance. 

“How long have you been here, then?” 

You actually had to think about it for a moment, head tipped to one side. “Seven hundred and twenty… two days. No. Twenty three.” 

“Almost two years?” Gaz asked, clearly shamelessly eavesdropping. 

“Almost.” You frowned down at the dough, adding a little more water to it. 

“And you’ve been doing this the whole time?” Price made a vague motion to the base.

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, giving the dough one more stir before you separated it out. “I’ve traveled, of course. Read through all the notes I could find. Learned the skills needed to survive here.” You shrugged again. “That’s how it goes here. I’ll be happy to teach you all as well.” 

Price blew out a slow breath. “You haven’t found a way off the island.”

“Of course not.” You rolled your eyes. “Nobody has. I don’t even know if there is a way off the Island. I mean, there must be, the supply drops come from somewhere, but I’ve never seen a plane or anything.” 

“There are supply drops?” Soap’s turn to eavesdrop.

“Of course.” You transferred the rolls to a baking stone, setting them carefully in the oven. Not as nice as a modern one, of course, but you’d only burnt a few rolls before figuring out how to make it work. “Daily, in different areas. I’ve got a big map up on that wall.” You pointed and grinned at the subsequent migration. “Home is the big blue dot.” 

More leisurely, you strolled over to stand behind the men, observing the map. It was a complete map, with bases marked accordingly. 

“What’s this, then?” Soap pointed to a green marker out on the plains.

“The horse tribe.” You rolled your eyes. “Pricks. They’re not particularly friendly.” 

“I take it they use horses,” Gaz said, flicking a grin at you. 

“Yeah. Exclusively. They will trade for carrots, at least, so they can be reasonable.” You shrugged. “Not often, but it happens.” 

“And here?” Ghost pointed to the red dot up between two mountains. 

“The Painted Ladies.” You looked away from the map. “They’re… a little zealous. Have no use for males, of any species. They use the red berries to make a dye and mark everything with it - themselves, saddles, clothes.” 

“That it?” Price this time, examining the map more closely.

“I haven’t checked in a while, but there used to be a tribe down here, between the base of this mountain and the swamp. No idea why they chose there, but it’s not my problem.” You shrugged. “Oh! And hypothetically there’s the sky tribe, built mobile bases on a few quetzal, but I’m not convinced that’s real.” 

You left them to continue examining the map, checking the food and tapping your fingers against the table. Still didn’t feel like enough, not with four of them. So you pulled out an extra slab of meat from the preserving bin, slapping that in a pan with some herbs and a few potatoes chopped up. There. That’d do. 

“There are plates and cups in that cupboard,” you said, pointing, hoping one of them would take the hint. “If you wanna wash up, that’s out back. Just don’t drink the water.” 

“On it,” Gaz said, moving to get the plates and cups. He even found the utensils with a little poking around. Good man. 

Dinner was… stilted. You had gotten accustomed to being alone again, and they were still adjusting. Not that you blamed them - you’d been in shock the first three days you’d been here. They were doing better than you.

Then again, they all knew each other, so that probably helped. And, honestly, they looked like they were military. Big guys like them, combined with the way they’d looked at the map and the way they carried themselves… Pinged as military in your mind. You’d seen their type before. 

You took the dishes out back to clean, waving off their offers. You needed a bit of quiet time to yourself. 

Four new people, all at once. A group. You’d only seen pairs come in before, not a group of four. Honestly, it made you wonder all over again about whoever was running this. What did they want? What was the point of this? 

Maybe there was none. Maybe it was all just an elaborate form of torture. You sure didn’t know anybody who’d made it out alive. 

You snorted softly, shaking your head. No point wondering about it. You had too much to do. 

Especially with four more people to feed. That would be a lot. 

You blew out a breath. Hopefully these ones would outlive you. You didn’t know if you could handle losing any more people. 

“Ma’am?” 

You jumped, startled, and looked at Gaz’s sheepish expression. “Yes, Gaz?” 

“Want me to take anything in for you?” 

You huffed out a little laugh. “Insistent, huh? Yeah, alright, you can take the plates in. I’ll show you where the bedding is once I’m done out here.” 

Gaz nodded, picking up the plates, though he didn’t move yet. “You alright?” 

You shot him an amused smile. “I should be asking you that.” 

He shrugged, looking down. “Big change for you, too,” he murmured, fingers shifting around the plates.

Your smile softened a little. “It is,” you admitted. “But I’m okay. It’s good to have people to talk to again. I’ll make sure to teach you everything you need to know about this place.” 

He nodded, searching your gaze for a few moments before he left. 

They all opted to bunk down together, which made life easier for you. The house was an open floor plan, so you just pushed some things out of the way, gave them bedding, and left them to it. 

You, of course, did last rounds before bed, checking on your three tames, checking the fence, and checking the surrounding area through the slats in the fence. A few pachys, a parasaur, and a stego farther out. Quiet out tonight. Good. 

The few crystals you’d left out all day were glowing softly now that night had fallen, so you brought those inside. The glow was soft, diffuse enough that it wouldn’t keep anyone awake (hopefully), but would still provide some illumination. 

In case any of them needed it. Or you. 

Murmuring a soft good night to them, you grabbed your own bedding and curled up in your favorite corner. It didn’t take long to drop off to sleep. 

You were surprised when they woke at sunrise, same as you. You let them take care of themselves, instead pulling water to boil and working on biscuits. They were easy to make and lasted a few days, although you doubted they’d be around that long. 

“You said there are supply drops?” Price asked, standing to one side while you worked.

“Mmhm. Not in the same spot, but they come down.”

“If you’re planning to go to any today, I’d like to go with you.” 

You straightened after putting the last batch of biscuits in the oven, dusting your hands off. “I’ve got a few questions first. You lot military?” 

“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you more closely.

You nodded. “Good. Think you can trust me enough to keep you all out of the worst of the trouble until you learn the ropes?” 

His lips twitched. “Do we have a choice?”

“Always.” You frowned at him, disapproving. “You never have to stay here. If you really want to leave and try on your own, I can give you some supplies and advice. You’re not beholden to me, or anything like that.” 

He only smiled, apparently pleased. “We’ll follow your lead.” 

You blinked, not having expected that. “Uh. Good.” You ignored one of them snickering behind you and took the freshly-boiled water off the flame. “Right, those’ll take a bit. Let me show you the guns.” 

That got all of their attention, and they all followed you outside to the weapons cabinet. You opened it with a little flourish, grinning at their expressions. 

A few bows and crossbows sat on one side, arrows piled neatly below. Your pistol you picked up, tucking away so they didn’t get any ideas. 

Which still left three longneck rifles, another pistol, and one (slightly broken) assault rifle. 

“Quite a stash,” Soap murmured, going for one of the rifles. 

“They come in some of the supply drops,” you offered, stepping back to give them better access. “And ammo, which is below. The assault rifle is broken, haven’t the foggiest what to do with it.”

“I do.” Ghost picked that one up and stepped away. You let him. Not like he could make it any more broken.

“Please don’t shoot any of them here, you’ll scare the tames, and that will end badly for everyone.” You left them to the guns, going to grab Bessie’s bags again. 

“Not a problem,” Price assured you, taking one of the longnecks. Gaz and Soap each had one as well. 

You nodded once, making sure both bags were empty and in good condition before you hung them on the side of the paddock. You’d take Bessie with you when you taught them how to hunt here. 

You had a feeling at least one of them would be a bit… resistant to eating meat after this. 

The biscuits went over well - Gaz ate four in one sitting. You packed up several more in a bag, along with two water skins freshly filled. 

“Alright,” you murmured, taking them outside again. “Look for blue smoke, that’s usually what they use for the supply drops. Sometimes green. Once in a great while, yellow.” 

“Blue,” Gaz called after only a few seconds, pointing. Towards the beach. Good. 

“Green,” Soap called less than a minute later. You sucked your teeth when you saw that one - towards the mountain. Not good. 

“Right,” you mumbled, chewing your lip. “We’re going for blue first. We’ll hunt along the way.” 

Nobody said a word against your plan, which was frankly miraculous. You got Bessie ready again, whistling for her to follow. 

“You tamed her?” Price fell into step next to you at the head of the group. 

“Her, yeah.” You smiled. “The other two, no. Watermelon was tamed by the guy before you lot - Jasper. Nice guy. Former marine.” You shrugged. 

“And the other?” 

“Ripper was tamed by my mentor, Tom. He left her to me, made sure she knew I was friendly.” Your smile was tinted bittersweet at the memory of Tom. You firmly maintained you couldn’t have had a better mentor. 

Not like you’d turned out to be. 

“How does that work?” 

You huffed, shaking your head even as you continued to scan for danger. “That’s at least a week two project, Price. Gotta learn the basics first.” 

“Alright.” He seemed amused now. “Tell me more about the supply drops.”

You shot him an amused look. “I take it you’re in charge of the boys.” 

“That obvious, eh?” His lips twitched. 

“With that tone of voice? Yeah.” You grinned, though. “Supply drops usually have all kinds of things. Clothes, weapons, ammo, medicine, food. Anything that can’t easily be made here, or requires technical skills that can’t easily be learned. Sometimes notes, manuals, things like that.”

“And they drop daily.”

“Usually, yeah. They aren’t in the same spot every day, so they’re not always close enough to grab. We got lucky with this one on the coast, actually. The coast is less dangerous than the mountains.” You paused to take a quick look around, just to be safe, before you continued on. “As long as you don’t go in the ocean, anyway. Practically everything in the ocean wants to kill you.” 

Quiet fell for a little while as you all walked. There was still a little bit of light forest between you and the coast, and the supply drop. The forest was usually quiet here, but not always. Fortunately, they seemed to note your caution and followed your lead, all without a word. 

You could get used to that. 

“I see the drop.” You blew out a slow breath. Once again, through the forest without incident. And still with plenty of time to let them do some hunting. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” 

Ghost set up keeping an eye on the surrounding area while you and Gaz pulled the top off the crate. 

You whistled at the contents. Small bottles of medicine, bandages, a few splints, another pistol and ammo… And an oiled coat, which you promptly held up to check the size. That would come in handy on rainy days. 

“This is a good haul,” you murmured. Coat looked too big for you. Damn. “Alright, let’s load up Bessie, make sure you cushion those medicine bottles.” 

They worked easily, efficiently. Even if you did catch Soap side-eyeing Bessie when the trike huffed. 

You broke down the crate the rest of the way, tying the pieces together and attaching that to the leather harness. Good. 

“Right,” you murmured. “Hunting next, I s’pose.” You blew out a breath, hands on your hips, looking down towards the water. “We’ll start easy.”

“Oi,” Soap started, indignant. 

“Easy for me,” you corrected with a little grin. “Come on. I can usually find dodos down this way.” A short whistle for Bessie to follow and you started down the beach, letting the others follow at their own pace. 

The beach was usually quiet. At least, here it was. The swamp… much less so. But here? Not a problem. 

“There we go,” you murmured, stopping far enough away that the dodos wouldn’t freak out. Not that they did anyway - they were pretty stupid. “Five of ‘em, that’s good. Right, just aim for the heads. They’re not smart and they’re not fast, I’m sure you can get ‘em.” 

You stood to the side, letting them figure out how they wanted to do this. You were only a little amused when Price approached it in a very military fashion - he sent Soap and Ghost around to the other side to help pen in the big dumb birds. 

Honestly, it didn’t take them any time at all to take down the birds. You whistled lowly. They were efficient. 

“Keep this up and you won’t need me,” you joked, patting Bessie’s side.

“Think we still have a few things to learn,” Price said, falling in step next to you as you walked over to the birds. 

You hummed acknowledgement before you grabbed the first bird by the feet, dragging it over to Bessie. “Might be a nest around here,” you said, glancing at Gaz. “Mind taking a look?”

Gaz was off with a nod, even as Soap and Ghost walked over to help. 

“We’ll take these two back,” you said, attaching the second bird to Bessie’s harness. “The other three we can butcher here.” You shook out the oiled cloth you’d brought with specifically to wrap the meat in, laying it on the sand. 

Fortunately, none of them were squeamish. Unfortunately, you only had two knives. 

It still took relatively little time for you and Price to get the meat done and wrapped up. 

"Found a few eggs," Gaz reported, carefully holding the eggs against his stomach. Three of them. Your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Brilliant." You grinned. "Alright, this has worked out quite nicely for us! I can show you some berry patches on the way back." 

None of them objected, so you got everything situated in Bessie's bags and started the walk back. 

You'd made it most of the way when you heard the little growl. You stopped, hand going to your pistol, and you noted Price doing the same near you. 

But the creature that stepped out of the brush was no threat. The hyaenadon growled softly again, gaze focused on you. 

"Easy," you soothed, both it and the men. "Easy does it." You released your pistol, taking two steps back to Bessie and cutting off a chunk of meat. 

"What are ye doin'?" Soap hissed, confused and a little incredulous. 

"No need to panic," you soothed, stepping forward again, still moving slow. You stepped ahead of Price and crouched down. "Here, sweetheart. Here you go." You held out the meat, heart racing. 

The hyaenadon crept closer, slow, cautious, a little skittish. It sniffed the meat and then, very delicately, took it from your hand. Its stubby tail wagged and it whined a little, chowing down. 

"What is this?" Price asked this time.

"I have been working on taming this darling for weeks," you said, keeping your tone low and gentle. "I think this one is almost ready to come home." 

"Ye can't be serious." Soap again, this time aghast. 

"Of course I am." You smiled as the hyaenadon licked your hand. "Good job," you murmured. "That's a good pup. How about I bring you more tomorrow, hm?" 

The hyaenadon whined again and scampered off back into the woods. You straightened with a satisfied smile. 

"What was that?" Ghost finally, voice a low growl. 

"Home first," you insisted. "Then I'll explain."

Dinner

***********************

I'm back again :)

This one isn't as good as I thought it would be and it's also short :( but i promise to post a long one soon!!

Tw: curses (?), Reader is German

***********************

"Willst du mich komplett verarschen?"

"Wha-?"

You scoff and exit the living room, leaving a bewildered John behind. You would have laughed at his confused and shocked face but you're not in the mood for that now.

You are sure that he didn't understand what you said, but it's just easier for you to express you annoyance in your mother language. That being German.

It wouldn't even have happened if he hadn't forgot to go to the groceries store. It may seems a bit dramatic for other people, but not for you.

John's parents are supposed to come over in about 2 hours and you wanted to prepare a nice dinner for them. But now you have to improvise and try to make tge best outcof your cooking skills.

"Einmal bittet man ihn etwas zu machen und was passiert? Er vergisst es"

Your mumbling continues and some harmless curse words leave your mouth. Too occupied in your work, you don't notice you husband entering the kitchen. A small but regretful smile on his lips.

He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your torso, face laying into the crook of your neck.

"Darlin' are you talking to yourself again?" He mumbles against your skin, while prepping small kisses along your neck.

"I do yes. What else am I supposed to do when my idiot of husband forgets about the family dinner"

A small smile forms on your lips and you turn around to face him.

"Nächstes Mal werde ich dir nicht mehr aus der Patsche helfen, Liebling"

John looks at you with a concentrated face, trying to figure out if the things you said are good or bad.

"Mmh you know how much I love it when your talking German, my love. Maybe you can use it for other occasions."

He smirks and starts kissing you passionately, tongue slipping into your mouth.

You hum and slightly push him away after a moment.

"I will maybe do it, but first you're going to help me with the dinner"

John nods in agreement and places a small peck on your lips.

"Can't wait to hear you talking dirty to me in German"

"Sei leise und fang an zu arbeiten"

**********************

Translation:

"Willst du mich komplett verarschen?" - Are you fucking kidding me?

"Einmal bittet man ihn was zu machen und was passiert? Er vergisst es." - You ask him to do something one time and what happens? He forgets it.

"Nächstes Mal werde ich dir nicht mehr aus der Patsche helfen, Liebling" - I won't help you to get out of trouble next time, love

"Sei leise und fang an zu arbeiten" - Be quiet and start working

***********************

prompt: vegas wedding (ghost/reader)

-

Your fingers trail over to the other side of the bed and touch something solid.

It jolts your body back into itself, mind awake when you register the heat of warm skin where there shouldn’t be skin. Not next to you in bed. The other side of your bed is usually cold to the touch, the sheets still pressed and tucked in place, undisturbed because you tend to stick to your side. They’re rumpled now, the sheets; tented under the body next to yours. 

You open your eyes only to instantly shut them. There’s an ache in your forehead that throbs when the sunlight filtering in through the gap in the windowblinds hits your eyes. You remember drinking the night before, but not much more than that. Actually, you don’t remember much from the night before besides getting dressed up in the hotel room with your friend before parting ways in the casino. 

Getting out of bed feels like it takes every ounce of energy left stored in your poor, aching bones. You turn on your side ever so carefully before shimmying out of bed, woozy enough when you stand up that you have to grab onto the bedside table to keep from crumbling into a ball on the floor. 

It sparkles in the light when you happen to glance down. One big, gaudy rhinestone in the centre and then a band of diamonds all the way around. It’s heavy on your finger, accentuated by the emotional weight and repercussions of it that threaten to actually make you topple over this time. 

“No, no, no, no,” you whisper to yourself, trying to pull it off and wincing when it doesn’t budge past your knuckle. Too small. You must have really shoved it on the night before. 

You wince at the thought of how much work it’ll be to take it off. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt though—it catches around your knuckle, but rests perfectly when you push it back down to sit on your finger like a ring should. 

The man under the covers—it’s an assumption, you’ll admit it as you don’t know for sure that it’s a man—makes a noise, shifting in his sleep. Your blood coagulates in your veins as your head whips over your shoulder to watch him carefully for any sign of wakefulness. For the first time since waking up, you get a glimpse of the man probably wearing a ring matching yours and he—well, he really takes up his side of the bed. 

The big lump under the covers doesn’t move as you stare at him. You don’t allow yourself more than a glance, charting the slope of his back muscles and the top of his dirty blond hair. He lies on his stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow facing away from you, obscuring his face. Probably better for you.

Still fighting the urge to scramble out of the hotel room with your things, you allow yourself one smug moment. He’s handsome, whoever he is—you’ve certainly pulled worse. More to your credit, you somehow talked him into getting hitched in Vegas. His back rises with every breath; you stare for a while and wait for the periodic soft, gruff noises that he makes in his sleep. When he turns over onto his back, you muffle a squeak when the covers tent under his barely covered morning wood and slowly back away and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The shower doesn’t help at all; it just prolongs your panic attack that worsens every time you glance at the door and imagine the man sleeping in your hotel bed waking up on the other side. It does feel good to wash off the grime from the night before, however, scrubbing every nook and cranny of your body. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you come out, only a complementary hotel robe wrapped around you. You freeze. Big shoulders undulate when he rolls them back, stretching them out after a long night’s sleep. When he stretches an arm up to scratch his upper back, you almost whimper at the way his arm bulges. 

“Thought you could sneak out, is that right?” he grunts, his accented voice rippling down your spine. You hadn’t expected it to come out of his mouth, not this large, blue collar-looking man with his muscled pectorals and the bit of pudge around his middle, softness that comes with labour and not vanity. He drags his hand over the scruff growing on his face, only slightly darker than the hair on his head.

“…I’m not really sure what to say,” you blurt out, reflexively tightening the belt cinching your robe in place. Conscious that your day-old clothes are still sitting in a pile on the bathroom floor, nothing underneath your robe. 

The man stares at your chest like he knows it too. “‘Course you do, love. Probably would’ve skipped off if I hadn’t gotten up, tail tucked between your legs.” His stare flicks down to your legs then, eyes growing heated, half-lidded. You frown.

“That’s how this goes, isn’t it? We, uh, do…this…that…last night or whatever,” you stutter out, face hotter than you’re comfortable with it being, “and then we go our separate ways. That’s what I’d expect from anyone.”

“‘Anyone’ isn’t wearing my ring on her finger,” he points out, tilting his chin towards your hand. You hide it behind your back. 

“That was an…” you clear your throat, “unfortunate detail. I can fix it though, I swear, just…just give me your email or something and I’ll send you the papers.”

This is precisely the most uncomfortable moment of your life. Thus far, anyway. You’ve had worse things happen to you, but as far as uncomfortable things go, little else comes close to subtly implying that you’ll serve a man whose name you don’t even know divorce papers. It’s certainly not what you expected from a weekend girls’ trip to Vegas.

He tilts his head, eyes locked on you. “Don’t worry about all that, love.”

“Why? Do you—I can give you my email address instead, if you want to…if you have a lawyer friend that’ll help.”

“No. Don’t need help with something that isn’t gonna happen.”

You can feel your temper getting the better of you. This whole weekend is shaping up to be a bigger headache than just the hangover you’re nursing. “A divorce—I’m talking about getting divorced, if that isn’t clear.”

“It is. It just isn’t happening.”

He’s being far too casual, unconcerned with your fists clenching at your sides, eyes lazily sweeping you up and down. He yawns like a big cat. 

“What are you talking about?” you hiss, taking a step towards him. Trying to seem intimidating even though your heart is beating erratically in your chest. “You can’t just say no. This shit happens and then—why wouldn’t it happen? It’s just a divorce!”

“Don’t believe in divorce, love. I gave my word.”

His words hit you so hard that it briefly rocks you out of your headache. “That’s so—that’s so stupid! It’s practically an annulment anyway! We didn’t even, you know—” your voice drops to a whisper, embarrassed, “—consummate it.”

“Maybe didn’t get to the whole course, but we didn’t do nothing,” he teases. A subtle thing, barely a twitch of his lip to let you know that he’s toying with you. Men like him toy with their prey like cats with a mouse. 

He probably isn't wrong. You might remember it with time, but he looks like a man that’s seen you naked. It’s an infuriating look. 

“Look, I’ve got—my friends are probably wondering where I am anyway.”

“Give ‘em a call; you can tell ‘em you spent the night with your husband.” No mistaking it now, the heat in his eyes. Nor the blankets bunched in his lap in lieu of his clothes, a fact you’d been carefully not letting yourself focus on for fear that you’d wind up just staring at his crotch. 

Like you are now, helpless to do anything as he drags the sheet away, letting it slip off the bed. His thighs are dusted in dark, coarse hairs, wide enough that you could comfortably sit on one of them. He gives one a pat too, beckoning you towards him. 

“Come back to bed,” he suggests, dick resting red and heavy against his stomach, big enough that you know you would’ve remembered having that inside you even if you’d blacked out. “Let me wake my wife up the right way.”

Mirrorball | John Price x F!Reader

a/n: me?? posting??? in this economy?? unheard of. this is definitely not me writing needy price whaaaat

warnings: mentions of injury, trauma

summary: You’re trying to sleep, but someone wakes you up with a long awaited phone call. OR, John’s outside of your door, begging for forgiveness.

It was a work day tomorrow and someone had the audacity to call you in the middle of the night. Your eyes tried to blink away the murkiness of sleep as you answered the call, not even paying attention to the ‘Unknown Caller’ blinking at the top of the screen.

“Hey.”

Your head fell back into your pillow, your hand holding your phone to your ear.

“Yes, John.”

“Don’t be that way.”

Your hand gripped your phone a little more, now that you were waking up more.

“Well, seeing that it’s…” You pulled the phone from your ear, looking at the time on the screen, “2:45 in the morning on a Tuesday, you’re only calling ‘cause you’re bored.”

There was a scoff on the line. “Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m worried about you?”

Your eyes were still closed, your eyebrows furrowed and you mumbled, “Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

There was silence. Just the warmth that flooded through your chest every time you heard his low breathing; a signal, a waypoint, your reminder that no matter how much you want to turn away, there’s no escape from your desperate need for John Price. Your fingernails dug into your pillowcase, tears that have broken glass now soak the silk underneath your head. You could almost smell the rich tobacco that seemed to envelop his clothes and his worn skin - he was the feeling of sunlight reflected on shattered glass. Shining just for you.

You could imagine his hand curling your hair behind your ear, his soft lips pressing kisses into your hairline, your shoulder, your spine. You had memorized the way his hand would gently graze over your side, featherlight movement as he would whisper his promises, his mantras, but ignore your desires.

“M’here.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you felt a rush of confusion.

“You were in Afghanistan last night.”

“I lied.”

“You seem to do that often, John.”

Silence again. Your eyes opened to your dimly light room, the small light plugged into your wall helped you make out everything in your room. The jacket of his that still was tossed over the back of your favorite chair, most of his clothes hung in your closet - deep browns and dreary grays that were pressed against your bright blues, greens, and yellows. His breathtaking fiancé dressed in all of the colors that made you feel happy - but all were a farce, a lie wrapped up in a fairy tale. You weren’t happy. How could you be happy when your whole world decided to break your heart?

“Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up, John. I mean it.”

Silence. You could hear the quiet bustle of Liverpool outside your window, the street lamp’s warm light hidden by your dark curtains. Curtains he used to move at this time of night to open your window, he would burn the end of his cigar and watch the city lights.

Now, he stood outside your front door, without even a knock.

“What I did to you wasn’t right, I knew that then and I know that now. Screaming at you and telling you I never wanted to see you again was the biggest mistake of my life. I love you. And love isn’t supposed to be like that. I-I was… I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared of what you think of me, I was scared of what almost happened to me, I’m terrified to lose you.”

“Stop.”

“Please. I’m here.”

“What do you want, John?”

“I want come home.“

Another pause.

“Please let me in.”

Your stomach lurched.

You hated that you sat up, lethargic body dragged behind your mind as you silently made your way to your front door; cold phone pressed to your ear. He was a warm light, you were like a late night moth - hearing the familiar hum of one John Price.

“I’ll do anything, love. Please.”

You stretched your arms as you stood on your tallest tip toes, it reminded you of spinning on your highest heels, just for him. You could remember his hands, gentle on your hand and waist as he had laughed deeply in that ballroom all those years ago. The way his touch never differed from anything gentle or soft, even as he held your hips in late nights, pulling loud moans and cries from you as he fucked you passionately. The way he whispered your name like gospel as you sobbed into his chest. It was impossible to forget what he’s done for you - and what actions he made that caused you pain.

He was made of a broken spotlight, his light reflected on you. Your mirror pieces had fell long ago, your fingers still bleed from picking up your shards, from pressing them into place so when he came around, you would reflect his slowly dimming light just like a mirror ball.

Your hand pulled open the door, gazing at the man you so painstakingly loved - face dirty, scarf disheveled around his neck, beanie snug on his head. You didn’t care that his rough hands gripped your hips, metaphorically pressing in the glass shards like always. He pulled you to him, your face landed in his scarf as he wrapped you in his freezing embrace. You moved to rest your chin on top of the scratchy wool, your lips right next to his ear.

“Are you hurt?”

He walked both of you into the apartment, skillfully kicking the door closed as he held you tighter. A fist on your lower back, a steel grip on your shoulder as his nose was firmly pressed into your (bonnet/hair). You could feel his chest, how it didn’t dare expand - he was holding his breath. As if he let you slip, that the mirrorball he adored would shatter into a thousand pieces. Your hand pushed into the back of his ribcage, moving in soothing circles.

“Breathe, John.”

You expected a harsh exhale, something loud in your ear, but all you received was a soft sigh through his nose. The freezing clothes that clung to him began to warm, his heartbeat erratic - you could feel it in his back, right behind his heart.

“Are you hurt?” You asked again.

He didn’t answer, silence was his weapon of choice now. He was full of words on the phone, telling you things you wished to hear earlier - oh shit, your phone. The phone you dropped on the floor before opening the door, hopefully it wasn’t broken. You had so many of him on there. So many photos of him hanging off your arm, lips pressed against your soft skin, eyes gazing lovingly at you.

“What do you need?”

You need me. I know you like the back of my hand.

That’s when he let go, pulling away from you to show fresh tears on his flushed face. Your eyes widened with concern, you tried to reach his face but his hands intercepted yours - holding them with a firm grip.

“I don’t need you to forgive me.” His voice was melancholy, a melody of grief and fear that you had never heard before. “I am an awful man. Rubbish. I hurt the one good thing in my life because I thought you hating me would be easier for me to die with.”

Your stomach coiled up into a knot, tight and uncomfortable.

Your fiancé held back a sob as he spoke, “I got hit. I almost died, all I could think about was how much you would hate yourself because I made you hate me. I don’t want that. I want to be by your side forever, I want you to put me in my place, I want you to take everything from me because I am not worthy of anything without you.” His hands squeezed yours. “I want to lay beside you for as long as I live. I want to only know you for the rest of my life. I want to do everything you ask of me.”

“What do you need, John?” Your voice softer than ever before.

He blinked away tears. “I need you to teach me how to truly be a better man. I need you to guide me. I need you to love me. I need you.”

You had told yourself a thousand times that he would never crawl on his knees to you, that his pride would destroy you, that he would never show weakness to you - but here he was. Showing his belly, giving you the chance to deliver the final blow.

You supposed he was waiting for it. Waiting for your teeth to sink in and rip him apart like a chew toy, scream at him until your voice ran hoarse, push him away until he fell onto his ass. But… you couldn’t. You were ready to walk away from him ten minutes ago, but now it’s… terrifying. Walking away from the one thing keeping you whole.

You squeezed his hands. “Marry me, John Price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was about to question you. But you spoke again. “Marry me today and show me that all that you said was a promise.”

He didn’t nod for long as he let go of your hands, grabbed your face and kissed you - pushing your head backwards as he pressed his entire body to you. You didn’t care anymore if he cut himself on your glass, you were sure he would fix the edge just to keep you happy.

Keep you spinning like his favorite mirrorball, shining just for him.

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