he's far from the most unethical of farmers. you won't be injected with a cocktail of hormones, locked in a pen, and have suction cups attached to your tits. the whole process starts off with him massaging your teats himself, measuring them, feeling the weight of him in his hands. (and no, the size of them doesn't automatically correlate to more milk production. you won't be discarded simply because you don't have the biggest boobs around.) all to get you used to the stimulation.
you'll have some outdoors time with the other cows. you won't be seeing any of the bulls yet. a lot of them are quite intense, and it'll be too intense for a new girl like you. you can enjoy yourself in the outdoor breeze, sniffing at other cows, chewing grass with the herd as you were always meant to do, instincts perfectly happy.
then, the intensity gets amped up, little by little. milking sessions are introduced to your daily routine, though your udders haven't started producing quite yet. a buzzing little toy is pressed to your clit every time you have the cups attached. pleasure to outbalance the discomfort, and also to condition you to associate the two. getting your tits milked = feeling good. it doesn't take long before you don't have to be nudged towards them anymore.
john won't fuck one of his cows, but once your food is laced with special stuff that makes your pussy tingling, swollen and dripping for hours, he'll do a through check down there to make sure you're all good. gloved fingers sliding inside of you, spreading your walls apart and pushing as deep as they can go to see if they meet much resistance.
"you're a natural at this," john says with a pat to your backside, though he knows you won't really be able to understand. "think you're ready for one of the bulls now." putting a calf in you always helps milk production, so it's bound to happen sooner rather than later.
"don't break her, simon." he says when he introduces the two of you outside. john scratches you behind your ears and gives you a little nudge through the fence before shutting it behind you and backing away.
"on you go."
there's hardly time for a few sniffs until you're pushed down on to the ground underneath his weight, mooing as the head of his huge, leaking cock swipes along your folds a few times before finding the right hole. it's far too big to go in all at once, or easily. simon bullies his cock inside of you with little thrusts, inch by inch, until he's bottomed out inside you. and with the load of cum he's certain to stuff you full with, it won't be long until it takes.
Okay, so everyone knows that a/b/o dynamics are essentially based on the extremes of (perceived) traditional gender roles. Ideally, alphas are everything associated with traditional masculinity: dominant, domineering, always protective, always possessive. And of course, ideally, omegas are everything associated with traditional femininity: submissive, obedient, soft, etc., etc...
NOW HEAR ME OUT ON NOT "TRADITIONAL" BUT "BIBLICAL" A/B/O DYNAMICS
Never thought I'd string those words together in my life
BEAR WITH ME bear with me--
An a/b/o universe where it isn't dominant-submissive, leader-follower, possessor-possessed, but two people made whole.
An ideal omega is anything but universally submissive. They lend respect to their alpha, yes, but they cannot be expected to obey anyone else. And in the first place, that respect must be earned--not forced by intimidation.
After all, omegas are smart. Resourceful. They're not trifling children mucking about in need of direction or command. To dishonor an omega is to dishonor one's self: so yes, protect--but not as you would in the way of seizing something to lock away. Instead, it's protect, nourish, and cherish as you would your own body. An alpha's sole duty in this world, this relationship, is to lift their omega high above all else--to value them far more than rubies, far more than gold. An omega is expected to respect their alpha; an alpha is expected to love their omega. And yes, this immutable, unabashed love is something taken to the extremes. Otherwise, it can't be love in the first place.
For the greatest honor of an alpha would be to die for their omega.
Even outside alpha-omega romantic pairings, there are other societal expectations as well: that alphas take in the widow, the orphan, the hungry, the restless. That they treat elders with the respect one would show a parent; that they treat those younger than them with the care one would show a sibling.
Yes, it's not uncommon for an alpha to become the leader of a group, but in this world, it wouldn't be because they bully people into submission or kick them into line. Instead, it's because they are the ones most willing to take responsibility of others outside their immediate bloodline. Watchful eyes over running toddlers; heightened senses in unfamiliar places; the center of cuddle piles with friends and family who know within an alpha's scent and senses, there is nowhere safer.
An alpha means shelter. An alpha is not a cage.
Of course, an alpha's paired omega takes precedent: once bonded, they are answerable to each other first and foremost above all. But in general, an alpha that fails to provide for anyone, of any relation, familiar or stranger, is no alpha at all.
What if the reader fell asleep while on Konig's dick. Like they were riding him (he was moving them for them) and they already had their face against his chest, but all of a sudden they just slump a bit more. What would he do?
"Liebling?" König nudges your head with his nose, chuckling when you let out the softest snore. He knew you were already tired when you started pawing at his cock. He told you that you would fall asleep, but you had begged, whined so so sweetly for him to 'just fuck me, please -"
Of course, he had to give you what you asked for. "Oh, you poor sleepy thing." He coos as he cups your ass a little more firmly, leaning back on the couch. "Your Dad always has to take care of everything for you, huh?"
He bounces you quickly, careful not to jostle you around too much. "That's alright... I love taking care of you." You let out the softest little moans when he hits that sweet spot inside of you, face twisting sleepily. Even in your sleep, you sucked him in, squeezing around him tight until he came deep inside you.
"Sleep well, little one. I'll keep you warm in my lap."
what do you think about John Price x bratty/tsunderish Reader?
Price....loves a bratty partner!? Especially in overall dynamics way, he likes it when you have personality and kick, can often be found observing your bratty moments like (〃￣ー￣〃)
For example, you decide to be cheeky and deliberately eat the food off his plate when your own dinner is right there? Price gets this smug, satisfied look on his face before he even does anything, waiting for you to dig your hole deeper in amusement.
"That's my plate, love. Don't you have your own?" He prompts gently, like a big hand correcting a kitten from stumbling outside of the den. Testing to see just how bad you want to be today.
"Mmm. Nah. Yours is better." You make a show of taking another slice of his steak, offering a pretty smile while you do it.
price crosses his arms, raises his brows at you pointedly "you want to play this game tonight?"
He waits, watches the slow build of anxiety then regret on your face. That sudden, subtle change from bratting to attempting to please is what really gets him. How you'll submit to him at the end of the day, not by force but by choice. wanting to.
Of course, he still has you kneeling on rice while he feeds you your actual dinner, but the mental submission is so much more gratifying than the physical.
"Seriously, man, Thanks for letting me crash here." You say for the tenth time that night, earning a piece of popcorn to the face and a scowl from gaz.
"I told you it's fine." He speaks around a handful of popcorn, only half-focused on the movie playing "what happened, though? You an' soap having a spat already."
"It's...it's not that." That tightness you've been fighting off all week returns, and you have to blink up at the ceiling to stop from crying. "It's uhm...it's a bit more serious. I've been looking for a new apartment."
That has kyle pausing the movie, fully turning to stare at your makeshift bed on the couch, "what? What the hell? Why? Are you okay?"
"It's uh– I don't—" you purse your lips together. It never gets easier admitting this, though you've always talked to Kyle about your struggles "I don't think soaps okay with me being trans."
Silence. Heavy anf oppressive while gaz takes it in. When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. "What makes you think that, man?"
"He gets...weird, about it, yknow?" You wave a hand ambiguously, as if that at all explains it "gets cagey if I do my shots in the kitchen even though it has the best lighting."
You begin to tick off on your fingers, "he stays in his room all day if I decide not to wear a shirt in the blazing heat. Hasn't brought a bird home in weeks, probably embarrassed of me. He even makes a big deal about my fucking boxers, staring at them like they'll attack! Even though he wears briefs around the place all the time!"
At the end of your tirade, gaz lets out a long, suffering sigh. He scrubs a hand over his face, "soap...is a fucking dimwit."
"...what?"
Gaz looks at you, seems to mentally debate something before sitting up properly. "Soap doesn't hate you, he has a godsdamned crush on you."
"....what!?" You almost want to laugh.
"Yeah. He never fuckin' shuts up about it, just ask ghost or price." Gaz snorts, seemingly over his initial apprehension "he probably acts weird because he's trying to he respectful and not pop a boner every other minute you're around."
Oh.
Oh shit.
"I uh....I need to go. Talk to him." Your face is burning, grabbing your stuff hurriedly "thanks for the advice!"
"Use protection!!" Gaz calls down the hall, a cackle at your idiocy the last thing you hear.
laying outside in your little sundress and nothing else. you look so sweetly innocent as you lay your body on the picnic blanket, book open in front of you.
he's sure you'd be looking at him like you want him to lean down and kiss you. like you want him to grip your chin and slip his thumb into your mouth.
but kyle is staring at you from behind. and he can see everything.
your soft legs. thick thighs he loves to have wrapped around his head. your skirt hides everything else, but a moment of wind and you're revealed to him.
god, he feels like such a pervert. watching you through the kitchen window, waiting for the right moment. his hand is already in his shorts, already stroking his cock.
he's desperate for that gust of wind. the one that will lift your skirt, that will let him see everything. ass cheeks that still wear bruises from last night, cunt begging to be used. all he has to do is go over there, make his presence known and fuck you right here in the garden.
but he doesn't. kyle hangs back, his mouth dry as he watches you. he pushes his shorts just enough to free his cock, to easily stroke his cock to you. and you're completely unaware, reading your book.
"fuck," he grunts, throwing his head back. why had you bothered to wear anything at all? but he's glad you did. something about the way the white material (covered in little pink flowers) lays over your legs until it doesn't.
god, he's disgusting. he's a fucking pervert but only for you. all you have to do is turn around and catch him. that would be enough to make him spill on the counter top. he's disgusting. he's fucking gross. he wants you to turn around, to watch him through the window as he finishes.
you slip the bookmark between the pages of your book and turn around. your elbows prop you up and you smile at him like you know what you're doing. you bring your knees up, your skirt falling around your hips.
that's what does it. the final move that has him spilling against the counter. he braces himself, holds the oak counter top, eyes shut. the image of you is burned in there, knees falling open.
Loser!König who lets you make a silicone mold of his cock. he’s embarrassed and red in the face throughout the whole ordeal, but you asked him so nicely, how could he say no? it’s worse knowing you use the replica dildo while he’s away, ugly jealousy blooming in his chest over something inanimate, something that resembles him so closely. while he’s flattered you miss him so much he wishes it was him. curiosity gets the better of him eventually though, how good can it actually be? surely it doesn’t feel that good. you get a nice surprise coming home one day, finding the poor man sniffling and sobbing as he rides it. you’ll tell him he’s doing well, won’t you? praise him the same way he does for you when you take him fully?
arranged marriage or marriage of convenience and they don't want to force you to sleep in the same bed or even room as them so they're very respectfully saying goodnight before going to their quarters to fuck their fist while thinking about how relaxed you finally seemed after dinner that night
Brought to you by a tiktok where this guy was talking abt a girl he was seeing and how every time they had sex she’d give him a little treat afterwards (like a lil candy bar)
Like it starts when you jokingly toss Johnny one of the chocolates you had sitting on your nightstand after he ate you out like his life depended on it- he eats the candy immediately obviously as he laughs
Then you end up with a little candy dish on the nightstand, or in the drawer, any time you and Johnny have sex you give him a piece of candy, throw him a bone so to speak. Not on purpose but you think it’s cute- the way his face lights up when given the candy
You find yourself fucking somewhere in the house that isn’t the bedroom? Johnnys right behind you as you make your way to your shared room for his treat, not even realizing he’s doing it.
Whether you forget on purpose or on accident one day he just kinda stands in the kitchen like a kicked puppy and, “didn’t do somethin’ to upset ya did I hen?” His head tilted to the side slightly.
“What? No- what do you mean?” You are genuinely confused until he mumbles a “didn’t get my treat- ya know-“
You have to stop yourself from laughing as you ruffle his slightly overgrown mohawk before you’re off to the bedroom to toss him his little candy.
Honorable mention: I’d like to think Johnnys somehow ended up explaining this to the others, maybe just Ghost at first. And Ghost immediately understands it and is thankful his smile is covered by his balaclava- leave it to Johnny to get himself trained like a good dog
Basically what im trying to say is doing this to Soap would have him so down bad I think
thinking about ferret shifter reader who will turn into their animal form whenever you’re tired and sleepy, the base you’re stationed in will get colder in the mornings and nights and you’ll find your favorite coworker
you’re shivering, teeth clattering as you wrap your arms around yourself and step in front of könig, who will immediately open his arms and welcome you in his hold, the skin at the sides of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles softly behind his hood
you’ll turn into your ferret form, small limbs giving a full body shake on the ground before you critter over to his legs, small claws grabbing onto his pants as you crawl over him, little body quickly scaling up until you reach his chest, you wrap around his neck under the hood and let out a few satisfied noises as his natural body heat warms you up
he has a personal soft living scarf who loves wrapping around his neck and napping against his skin, he couldn’t be happier that you feel safe with someone like him
The first thing price does when he gets back home is carry you to bed and take you right there.
He takes his time enjoying you. Kisses into your mouth and runs his tongue along your teeth, hands smoothing along your skin like he's learning every bump and crease for the first time. You're practically sitting in a puddle of your own arousal when he finally hooks your knees over his shoulder and—
"John...did you...did you just fucking sniff me!?!?" You prop up on your hands, face burning and trying to shuffle away in embarrassment "what the hell!"
"Fuckin' hold still, christ kid—" price grunts, hooking a forearm around your thighs and hauling you right back into position. He glares up at you, already dipping back down "what? I can't enjoy you anymore? Fuckin' missed the smell of your cunt—"
"John! That's gross!" You gasp, only to freeze and moan when he licks a fat strip across you. He rumbles in delight, going back in for another lick, nose pressed right against your clit and inhaling your scent.
"Don't care." He has the care to at least rub a soothing palm up your side, "been' surrounded by stench for the past month. Needed this, christ love—"
He spends hours down there, refusing to move even while you catch a break between rounds. It's only when you threaten to wear the perfume he hates that he actually fucks you. Still, his nose is tucked into the crook of your neck the whole time, all to pleased you still use the body wash he likes.
Your husband is gross, obsessed with your smell, but at the end of the day...it's nice to know he loves you so much.
How do you think Price would react the next morning if he got drunk and hit reader like they were one of his soldiers?
Ohhh nonny I don't think price is surviving to the next morning if he hits you.
If he comes home well and truly drunk, pissed enough to be yelling at you over something, so far gone that he hits you? There will he a split second of clarity the moment after the hit, realizing the boundary he's crossed, before he doubles down and refuses to apologize.
He yells more, gets in your face and tears you down like he would a soldier after a fight. Until you're physically shaking and flinching away from him, making price feel like a real man. Like someone in control before he stomps off to sleep.
Which leaves you, terrified tucked behind the sofa you bought with john when you first moved in. You do the only thing you can think of, face already bruising, and call the number john gave you "only for emergencies. Doesn't matter what, he'll help you."
"...ello?" The voice that picks up is rough, grainy.
"I...I didn't know who to call...." you choke on a sob. Terrified. "I don't know what to do."
Which is how, two hours later you're drinking a milk-shake in some diner parking lot, legs dangling over the bed of ghosts truck while he makes phonecalls far away enough you can't hear anything. You don't know what to feel. You love john, of course you do he's the man of your dreams but...but you've never feared for your life like that before.
It's fine. You decide not to think about it. Simon will handle it, he assured you. He even promised not to kill john when you had panicked and begged him to be nice, explaining that john was just drunk and he's usually never like that—
Yeah. Simon said he'll just talk to price, set things straight.
He doesn't tell you that said talking to will happen in the middle of the woods with a baseball bat and duct tape.
No thoughts just reader being hit with an aphrodisiac and the transport back to base and a safe location will take hours, right?
Which is how the team ends up cramped in the back of a van, knees knocking together and bodies tense from the way you've been...coping.
"Baby, please, hold on a bit, yeah?" Kyle grunts, sweating nervously on top of the general heat in the van. Of course the A/C is broken. He grabs your hips, trying to stop you from straddling his thigh and failing miserably "base is a few hours out, then I can help. Just...not here."
"Hours. Kyle." You hiss, wrenching his hands off to grind against his thigh and hissing through your teeth at the pleasure "fuckin. Hours. I'm not waiting."
"I know, I know baby—" he tries to soothe, already chubbing up at the desperate little whines you make, still fully in gear while you seek pleasure. You tuck your forehead against his neck, inhale the scent of him, strong after such a long op and easier to focus on amongst the smell of the others.
The others, who make no attempt at being polite while they watch. Soap is already rubbing himself through his pants and ghost looks moments off from pulling himself out. Price snorts at the half-effort gaz puts into pushing you off, head tilted back and breathing deep to try and control himself.
"Let the sergeants have some fun, garrick. Not like we haven't seen soap do worse."
"That's— that's different—" gaz tries to argue, knowing damn well it isn't. Not when you're holding gaz tight, hips working faster as you find a good spot against his harness to rut against. "Fuckin' hell–! ...okay. okay, yeah, c'mon baby—"
You're all too eager to climb into his lap properly, whining when he drags you hips away to undo various buckles. With a laugh, ghost leans in to help hold you still until gaz can shirk your pants down just enough to slip a hand into your underwear.
"Yeah? Feel good?" Gaz huffs at the way your entire body jerks, one hand circling around his wrist like a vice. No way in hell is he removing that hand until you're satisfied.
It's a testament to how well gaz knows you that he's able to have you on the brink in a few short minutes. Fat tears rolling down your face in anticipation. Your orgasm has you gasping, moaning loud and unashamed while you ride it out, entire body shaking. Gaz kisses you on the temple, lets you down to rest against his chest "there we go, that's what you needed, hm?"
....only for you to groan, hips moving again, much to the shock and excitement of the rest of the team.
If you gave Soap a gold star sticker as a joke for dicking you down good, he'd brag about it to Gaz, who would in turn take that as a challenge and wouldn’t leave your room until there are two gold stars plastered on his cheek.
I know some of you have been waiting quite a while for the latest part of this story - I hope it was worth the wait and that you all enjoy this! I did write this at 5:30 in the morning so hopefully it all makes sense!💛
Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛
I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!
Catch up on the series so far - Stop The Wedding Masterlist
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Warnings: Mentions of death, murder and torture feelings of guilt and loneliness, mentions of a car crash / injuries, mentions of forced marriage
Shepherd knew John and Simon were outside; of course he did.
It’s what he’d planned on.
Their sentimentality for you and rage towards him made them predictable; in the best way possible.
It made them think less like the tactical soldiers he knew they were; but just as simply men, trying to act as white knights to save the day.
To save you from him.
It was a foolish act of course; and he was almost certain that John and Simon knew that.
They were smart enough to know that everything he’d planned out was a trap.
Yet here they were; willingly walking into it anyway.
For you.
Risking their lives, for you.
It made Shepherd think.
He couldn’t help but be slightly fascinated by you.
You weren’t anyone special.
A barista at a coffee shop; with no family except an aunt who lived hours away.
Based on your school records you weren’t dumb but you weren’t exactly smart either; you were simply average.
Sure you were pretty, and based on what Graves had divulged in the early days of your relationship with him, you were funny as well.
But he couldn’t work out how looks and humor had managed to make not only the task force fall for you, but to make Graves fall for you too.
How you had made John and Simon think with such haste; willingly putting their lives at risk to save you.
He watched on the security cameras as the two men came into view, breaking free from the cover the trees had provided them; it was only for a brief second; before Simon threw a knife at the camera, cutting the feed.
But it was enough.
Enough for Shepherd to know that his plan was going to work.
That he’d drawn them into his trap as simply as luring bees to honey.
“Looks like it’s showtime boys,” Shepherd said with a smirk, into his comms to the leader of the covert team.
John and Simon were good soldiers; reluctantly he’d even admit they were some of the best he’d ever seen; but two men were no match for the covert team he’d assembled.
This wasn’t about skill.
It was about numbers.
Perhaps if the other two members of the 141 team were present, they might’ve stood a chance of getting out of this alive; but they weren’t.
They were watching over you.
He didn’t need proof to know it; because he knew they were just as sentimental as their partners.
Just as foolish.
Two men versus fifty highly trained soldiers; to some it may seem extreme to have that many soldiers against them; but Shepherd wasn’t taking any chances.
He didn't want them dead.
There was no fun in that.
No.
He simply needed to capture and contain them until Graves helped him execute the rest of his plan.
Until you and Graves were married.
He knew that Kyle and Johnny wouldn’t be drawn away from you easily; it would leave you without protection.
But if they saw footage of their other loved ones being tortured and beaten, it would make them act rashly.
They would rush in consequences be damned, thinking that they were above it all, probably thinking that they’d be able to save everyone…you, Y/f/n, Y/a/n, John and Simon.
But they wouldn’t be able to and only when it was too late would that reality hit them.
The reality that they’d have to choose.
The question that Shepherd wasn’t entirely certain on, was who they would choose.
The four men of the 141 had been through so much together, shared so much history…how could you mean more to them then John and Simon.
But he himself would be foolish to not expect and plan for every possible scenario.
The only thing he had to ensure was that in every scenario; there was a consequence, something that would break the members of the 141.
He didn’t care if that meant forcing you into a marriage with Graves.
Killing Y/f/n or Y/a/n; before working down the list of others you loved, to turn you against your ex partners.
Torturing John and Simon well beyond their breaking points and making sure Johnny and Kyle were there to witness it; reminding them that the only reason this was happening was because of you.
Making them resent you.
Making their feelings for you become twisted.
That wasn’t an ideal option.
It would take time to break these men. Men that had been trained to undergo intense interrogation sessions.
But Shepherd knew that everyone had a breaking point when it came to torture.
The final option was killing you.
But you were so much more use to him alive.
And if he killed you, then there was every possibility that Graves would become a problem.
An easily solvable problem.
But a problem nonetheless.
And that was something he didn’t want to deal with.
~~~~~
You’d barely slept.
Your mind was running in circles all night; trying to figure out a plan where Johnny and whoever else was in the car with him, could get you out of this mess.
But no matter what plan you made up in your head; someone ended up dying.
They could easily kill Y/f/n while they were still in hospital; it’s not exactly like they could attempt to fight back or call for help.
And you knew somehow their death would simply be brushed aside; that the injuries they’d sustained from the crash were too much or that they tried to wake from the coma and their heart couldn’t handle it….there were so many ways that they could get away with killing Y/f/n, and you knew that the moment you were discharged from hospital that that risk would only increase.
Then there was Y/a/n…sure she stood more of a chance, slightly, in a sense that she could run, or hide or scream; but you doubted that would make much of a difference.
Shepherd and the men that worked for him were trained soldiers.
Experts in killing people and leaving no trace.
Your aunt's death would be non-existent to the world.
So you were stuck.
Stuck trying to work out how you could save them from what nightmare you’d become entangled in.
What concerned you more was the fact that the car was still outside; it had moved spaces, but remained visible to you.
The comfort of knowing that you weren’t alone fading away with every moment that passed knowing that they could get caught…that people you loved could suffer for such actions; and that they wouldn’t be there to stop it.
You felt like you were going crazy.
Unable to stop yourself from thinking ‘How could this be my life?’
Eventually, you must’ve dozed off because when you woke, rays of sunlight were beaming into your room.
You glanced at the clock on the wall, rubbing your eyes sleepily before letting out a short sigh.
It was nearly visiting hours.
You knew Y/a/n would be here, of course she would, she was worried about you.
But you wished she wasn’t here at all; wished you didn’t have to lie to her, wished that she wasn’t at risk of getting killed.
And of course, Phillip would be here too, you’re lying, manipulating, Fiance who you had to pretend was doting on you and giving you all the support you needed.
It made your stomach twist in knots.
Made the blood in your veins run hot with rage.
What you wouldn’t give to just punch him the moment he walked in.
You closed your eyes for a moment, relishing in the brief moments you knew you had before the act you’d been portraying, resumed.
You let out a short breath as you heard the door open, expecting Phillip to be first one to arrive, eager to get to you and remind you of what was at stake if you didn’t follow his plan.
But it wasn’t.
It was Y/a/n.
“Good morning, my girl,” she chimed as she entered the room, “I stayed at the hotel last night since it was already paid for,”
You opened your eyes to see her carrying two cups of coffee, Ortega following closely behind her, making your aunt scowl in annoyance.
She placed the coffees down on the small table next to you, before shrugging her coat off her shoulders and throwing it around the back of the chair next to you.
“Who is he?” She asked quietly, after placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“A friend of Phillip’s,” you explained simply, hoping that your answer would be enough to keep questions at bay.
And in a way it did.
She didn’t ask you any more questions; she simply turned to Ortega and asked him to leave.
He didn’t.
Which clearly infuriated and confused your aunt.
You knew Ortega wasn’t allowed to leave you in the room with somebody else unless Phillip was present.
But obviously, Y/a/n was none the wiser to this.
So she simply kept on going, rising to her feet to challenge the man standing at the door.
“You are not family, nor are you a friend of my nieces,” she began, “You are a friend of her fiancés and whilst he is not here, and I am, you can wait outside.”
Ortega shifted in the spot slightly, not out of fear but of uncertainty.
You had no doubt if this wasn't a hospital, he’d shoot her where she stood.
His eyes flicked to you, hoping that you would intervene and stop your aunt from getting him to leave the room, you had to bite back the growing smirk on your lips.
“Y/a/n, it’s okay honestly-”
“No,” she stated back firmly, her eyes never leaving Ortega, “I want to talk to my niece alone, now you can either wait outside or I’ll call the nurses and get you removed by security,”
You had to admit even you were caught off guard by her words and the harshness in her tone.
Ortega looked at you again; but there was nothing you could do really.
You’d tried (admittedly not that hard, but saying anything more would cause your aunt to be suspicious).
Reluctantly with a scowl on his lips, Ortega left the room; you knew he’d call Phillip about this, and the moment of time you had without being watched by him or Ortega would be brief.
“Honestly, some people,” Y/a/n huffed, shaking her head as she walked back over to you.
“How’re you doing anyway, Y/n/n?” she asked, sitting on the side of the bed, her hand finding yours, giving it a light squeeze.
“I’m okay,” you answered with a smile that for the first time in a while, didn’t feel forced.
“You look tired,” she said softly, “I can imagine it’s been hard to get much rest given everything that’s happened,”
You nodded in agreement, “it has,”
It was the truth; and Y/a/n didn’t even know any of it really.
Y/a/n reached into her pocket quickly, pulling out her phone and putting on her favourite radio station, nostalgia hitting you in waves as it was the same radio station she always listened to when you were a kid.
“Thought this might help distract you,” she explained before you could even question why she was playing it, “beats hearing all the noise of the hospital,”
Well that was certainly true; you hadn’t really realized how accustomed you'd grown to sound of the chatter, heartbeat monitors beeping and phones at desk ringing.
It was a nice reprieve.
She gave your hand another squeeze before softly pulling you into a hug.
“The nurses said four men were with you when you first came here,” She whispered, quiet enough that you were almost certain any recording device in the room wouldn’t hear her question over the sound of the radio.
You tried not to react ; knowing that if there was any recording device hidden in the room, the slightest shocked look would give away that Y/a/n was stepping into dangerous territory with her words.
Before you could even ask how she knew; she asked a question that made your heart sink.
“Did they do this?”
“No,” you mumbled into her shoulder, reciprocating the hug.
They hadn’t done this.
Not really.
They weren’t the ones driving the car that caused Y/f/n to crash.
They weren’t the ones threatening people you loved.
All they were doing was trying to protect you.
Protect you from the your Fiance and the man he worked for were.
“Did Phillip?”
You felt your heart stop for a second; for a moment you thought about trying to protect him, not for his sake, but for the people you needed to protect.
It was Shepherd more than it was Phillip; but Phillip was still a part of it all.
You didn’t need to say anything; your silence told your aunt what she needed to know.
“Johnnys outside,” you whispered before your mind could fully comprehend what you were saying, your arms shielding your mouth making it unable to check what it was you were saying.
“Where?”
You gave her the description of the car you’d seen, even in the dimly lit hospital car park you could make out part of the registration number and colour, all Y/a/n needed to do was find it.
“You can’t talk to them here though,” you muttered quickly, not knowing how much time you had left before Phillips' arrival.
“Why?” She asked, clearly confused by your statement.
You wished you had more time to tell her, to explain everything that happened and what you were being threatened with, but there was no time for that.
“He’ll explain,” you replied back, not really answering her question, doing so would simply lead to more questions, “you just need to be careful,”
You gave her a quick squeeze before pulling back from her embrace.
“How was the hotel?” You asked, changing the subject, hoping that your aunt would get the hint and move on from the previous topic of conversation.
Thankfully, Y/a/n did; and she went on to talk about how the bed wasn’t very comfortable and how the pillows were too soft.
Normal conversations.
Conversations that held no repercussions.
About ten minutes had passed by the time Phillip arrived, his cheeks slightly red from where he’d obviously been rushing around.
“Sounds like a party in here,” he stated with that annoying smile on his face as he made his way to the other side of the hospital bed.
You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was clearly irritated that Ortega wasn’t in the room.
“Sorry I’m late, honey, got held up in traffic,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head.
His apology was false; he wasn’t sorry he was late for your sake but much rather his own, knowing that it gave you an opportunity he hadn’t planned for.
“It’s okay,” you assured him with a smile on your face.
In some ways it was good that he’d needed you to lie to your aunt, because it meant that things like forced smiles could go undetected as part of the role you were playing for your aunt.
What you had to be prepared for though was lying to Phillip once your aunt left, because you knew he was going to have questions.
You just had to hope that your answers would be enough to fool him into believing that you were telling the truth.
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
