#(are you sleeping are you sleeping brother john | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-librarby · 1 month ago

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DRUNK IN DA CLUB

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

Your brother is coming home for the summer holidays and plans to crash at yours. What he didn’t warn you about, however, was the unexpected friend he decided could tag along.

Brother’s best friend au, what more is there to say. (Reader is John Mactavish’s sister)

Part II Part III

3:05 am

The slight night breeze cooled your car down as you sat in the car park of the airport. It was hot, and the airport was a continuous stream of traffic that you could not wait to get out of. You drummed your fingers against the open gap of the window as you looked out for any sign of your brother. His plane landed an hour ago but there was still no sign of him.

Usually you wouldn’t pick him up, but since he was going to be home for a longer break you thought it was the least you could do— being a good sister and all.

Your phone buzzes beside you in the dark of your car’s interior. You reach for the dial of your radio and turn down the music before answering it.

“Hey Johnny, you here yet?” You look out the window in search of him.

“M’here just got out, it’s fucking crazy in there. Where are you?” He asked.

You reach for your keys to start the car, “I’ll come to you, tell me what you’re nearest to.”

Casually you can see John standing there with his duffle bag high on his shoulder and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. Beside him is a man you don’t recognise, he’s got a cigarette lit and a mask pulled under his chin as he smokes. You don’t think much of it as you wind down your window, and let out a low teasing wolf whistle.

“Need to get somewhere, darlin’? I got room in my car just for you,” you cackle as John’s disbelieving shake of his head.

“Shut it, it’s way too early for your shit,” there’s no heat behind it, by the smile on his face you can tell he’s pleased to see you.

You keep your hands on the wheel as he opens the boot of your car to toss his bags in. Curiously you watch the unfamiliar man follow John’s footsteps, through your rear view mirror you can see them exchange a few words as he drops the butt of his cigarette and hikes his mask back up.

Eventually John drops himself in the passenger seat while his friend carefully enters the backseat. When you look in the rear view mirror this time you can see his mask actually has a skull imprint on it, and you assume his hair is blonde by the low lights from passing headlights under his beanie.

“Gonna introduce the mysterious stranger in my backseat sometime soon?” You inquire as you pull out onto the road again.

John sinks deeply into seat, relaxation finally sinking into his bones, “‘uh? That’s Simon, I spoke about him once or twice didn’t I?”

You frown, the name rings a familiar bell, but it’s not what you care about right now. “Okay, so why is Simon in my car right now and not home on holiday?”

The unfamiliar voice makes you flinch in shock, “You didn’t tell her Johnny?” His voice rumbles.

John scratches his head trying to remember, “Did I ask if Simon could crash at yours or did I imagine that?”

“Johnny!” You exasperate, “You fucking idiot, you didn’t think to tell me that you were planning to bring a friend home over the holidays?”

“I thought I did!” He shoots back, not the least bit apologetic.

You sigh exaggeratedly, Simon is already looking at you when you glance back in the mirror, you smile to ease his stress, “Don’t worry Simon, you’re more than welcome. Even if someone, didn’t think to fucking warn me so I could set up the spare room,”

Johnny scoffs, “You never set up the spare room for me,”

“Because you never appreciate my effort, you’d sleep on the carpet and still think it was the best nights sleep you’ve ever had,”

“I cannot fucking wait to sleep.” he moans.

It’s almost 5 am when you pull into the driveway of your house. You’re exhausted as you close the door behind you, the boys grab their own bags and let you lead the way to unlock the front door. You flick the entrance lights on and kick your shoes off, John follows with ease but Simon makes an effort to be a bit more reserved as he neatly slips his shoes off.

You lead them through and open the door to the spare room on the way to the kitchen. You peak over your shoulder to look at John’s friend, “Simon, this room is all yours, okay? I’ll get some blankets soon, feel free to drop your things though,”

He nods and quietly ducks in while you and John walk into the kitchen. He drops his bags unceremoniously on your couch before stretching his arms high above his head.

“Not much of a talker is he?” You muse.

John hums, “He’ll warm up. He’s a tough nut that guy.”

You nod, turning on the kettle for a much needed drink. You turn your back, faintly hearing John collapse on the couch as you move about grabbing some cups. When you turn back around Simon is standing beside you, almost hovering.

“Jesus!” You gasp, clenching the handles of the cups harder in your fright, “You move quietly for a massive fucking man,”

John cackles from his spot on the couch, absolutely pissing himself with laughter. The slightest crinkle forms at the corners of Simon’s eyes at your reaction.

“Need a hand?” He brushes off.

You exhale deeply, “Sure, tea or coffee?”

“Tea s’fine,” he replies.

You nod, “Bags are in the top cupboard.”

You move about in comfortable silence, Simon keeps his space as he moves about trying to find where you keep everything. Upon first impression, you find him very respectful and try not to judge his reasoning behind wearing a mask and beanie indoors.

John is almost snoozing with his hoodie on and arms crossed over his chest when you call for him, “Do you want tea or not?”

He swats his hand absentmindedly, “M’sleepin’ later,”

You roll your eyes and put his mug back in the cupboard. Simon helps himself and makes his to his liking, by now his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. You make a beeline for the linen closet and take out spare blankets, without looking around you drop them on the edge of the spare bed before making your way back into the kitchen.

“Alright, spare room is all done. You can make it however you want,” you announce.

He nods, watching as you stand on the other side of the bench to make your drink. Without wanting to make it awkward you smile politely and gesture towards his drink, “Do you want to take it to your room? I’m gonna pass out in like ten minutes anyway, no point in staying out here.”

He takes your opening and thanks you before retreating back to his room. You exhale quietly once he’s out of earshot, although a polite house guest so far, his silent personality sets you on nervous edge. You remembered him earlier as John’s lieutenant who he’s always cracking jokes as you heard over your phone calls. But honestly you find it hard to imagine.

Must be one tough shell he’s got.

You shrug your shoulders and make your way across the hall to your own room. With the blinds shut, you can almost imagine it’s not sunrise as you go to sleep.

Hours later you can hear rummaging in your kitchen once again, the smell of bacon wafts in after making your stomach grumble. With a dreary moan you rise, throwing on a jumper over your shorts as you shuffle into the kitchen. John is at the stove, humming and energetic as he moves about. Although a morning person, you have no idea how he’s so alive after only a few hours sleep.

“Good morning sleepyhead!” He cheers, “Thought I’d make you breakfast for being such a caring baby sister,”

“Shove it,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes roughly with the sleeves of your jumper, “Why are you so loud?”

“He’s loud enough for the both of us,” a deep voice answers.

“Sleepyhead number two! The whole family is here,” John coos condescendingly.

Simon is standing there in casual clothes similar to last night, only this time the beanie and mask are missing. You can’t help but gawk as you take in his full face, he’s definitely blonde if the mop on top of his head is anything to go by. And he’s much more handsome than you anticipated.

When he looks over at you, you try to save yourself by smiling and waving him off, “Honestly, I don’t know how you deal with him,”

“Likewise,” he mutters, bringing the empty cup from last night to the sink.

“Hey,” John flicks the oil coated spatula at the both of you, “Don’t bond over your fond annoyance for me, I didn’t agree to that,”

You raise your eyebrow, “Not really offering anything else though are you?”

“I am slaving away at this stove for you, and this is how you treat me?”

“You’re clearing out my groceries because you’re starving don’t try to make yourself look good.” you shoot back.

John opens his mouth but then thinks better of it, you got him there. He whistles a merry tune as he turns back to the stove, you gaze over at the sink to see Simon rinsing out his cup with a faint smile on his face.

“Enjoying your stay so far?” You muse.

He looks over at you as he switches the tap off, “It’s been entertaining,”

John scoffs, “Don’t be humble, you love hearing me get told off,”

Simon hums, “It is satisfying.”

The kitchen falls into a peaceful silence, you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools at your island as you watch John move around and rummage in drawers to finish cooking breakfast. Simon stands awkwardly for a moment, as an uncomfortable house guest does. You tap the bench beside you in silent offering to sit down, he gratefully takes your invitation and pulls up a stool beside you. Even when sitting down you can tell he’s quite tall with the way his shoulders are resting inches above your own. You honestly find his stature a bit intimidating but try your best to not let it show on your face.

“How are you?” You ask, to be polite.

Simon looks down at you quizzically, like he’s trying to understand your question. You almost feel bad, when’s the last time someone asked him that?

“I’m,” he thinks, “Okay. Relieved to have a break,”

You raise your eyebrow, “You sure you signed up for a break?” You hitch your thumb in Johnny’s direction, “You know he’s gonna run you ragged right?”

He chuckles, “I know, maybe you can reign him in for me,”

You grin and lean in to whisper, he stoops down to hear you, “We’ll take turns. Joint custody?”

He looks at you and nods, small amusement shown on his face, “Deal,”

When Johnny turns around with two plates in hand, all he can see is the both of you leant in close whispering about something. He immediately cuts in with disapproving shout as he puts the plates down in front of the both of you.

“No way, I am not having this,” he states.

Simon reaches for his cup as he listens to whatever is about to unfold, you frown, “Having what?”

He gestures between the two of you “This, whatever this is. It’s too comfortable for me, where’s the space for Jesus?”

The choke you hear next to you makes you look over, Simon is bent over his cup, incredulous look on his face and taken aback.

You however, are used to this, “Don’t fucking start Johnny, we were just talking about what your plans were.”

John looks between the two of you, hands on his hips in assessment. You sigh and roll your eyes, Simon remains silent but at ease. The both of you are far too used to Johnny’s antics to fall for his intimidation tactic. You pluck one of the hashbrowns off your plate and hold it out in peace offering, he instantly breaks character and takes it.

He bites a corner off as he speaks, “We’re gonna go to the beach,”

“No we’re fuckin’ not,” Simon instantly cuts in.

You laugh at the deep contempt in his voice. John huffs, “Don’t be a baby, Si, we need to keep up the tan,”

Simon leans towards your side to whisper, “You’re it, you can take this one,”

You shake your head and smile, looking over at John who conveniently has his back turned to fix his plate.

“Not a fan of the beach?” You inquire quietly.

Simon forks at one of the eggs on his plate, “I’d rather kill myself,”

You snort, his bluntness taking you off guard. John joins you both with his plate now full, once placed on the island you speak up, “I actually just found this hidden swimming hole near my place that we could go to,”

John raises his eyebrow, “How hidden is it exactly?”

You mull it over for a moment, “It’s not deserted, people definitely know about it, but it’s still pretty quiet. It used to be a quarry, and it’s in the middle of the bush so not a lot of people make the drive.”

Both boys sit in silence for a minute, debating probably entirely different things. Simon glances at you for the corner of his eye, silent plea to seal the deal.

“I mean it’s better than the beach during peak hour? You’ll never find a spot now at this hour,” you bargain.

John sighs, “I know when I’ve been outvoted. Just didn’t think my own blood would betray me like that.”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond and finish your breakfast. The boys talk about people you’re not sure of, coworkers you assume. You don’t think much of it, allowing their chatter to fill the quiet of your house. It’s nice to have company, you missed having your brother home and it’s always a relief to see him in one piece.

Simon is slowly growing more on you, still hesitant and quiet but John cracks his shell a little more with each sentence he pulls out of him. You have no idea how he does it, he’s got a gift when it comes to pulling out peoples personalities.

Eventually you push yourself back from your stool and hop off, bringing any empty dishes to the sink. “Best get your things ready if you want to make your way over,” you call out from over your shoulder, “It’s still early so it should be empty over there if we want it to ourselves,”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, I call shower first,” John responds, walking over to his bag.

“Where are your manners? We have a guest,” you frown.

“Simon can suck it, I’m not sacrificing my slot for him,” he calls out as he pulls clothes out, flinging them over his shoulder to hold.

Simon raises his hands, pacifying, “I can wait,”

You point a soapy finger in Simon’s direction as you wait for the water to run warm in the sink, “Don’t let him walk all over you Simon, he’s an asshole and will take advantage,”

Simon stands, collecting the forgotten dishes on the island, “I’m well aware.”

The bathroom door closes shortly after, effectively cutting off the conversation. You turn your back and continue washing the dishes, this time you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand before two arms appear beside you to place the dishes down.

You breathe out, “Seriously, you have got to teach me how to move around so quietly,”

Simon raises an eyebrow, “Why would you need to be trained in stealth?”

You shrug, scrubbing at a plate, “Seems handy, imagine how undefeated I would be at hide and seek,”

When you look over at Simon you can see him already staring at you incredulously, “You would use trained stealth skills for hide and seek?”

“Duh?” You answer dumbly, “Have you ever snuck up on Johnny? He has the best reactions,”

“Can’t say I have.” he responds bluntly.

By the time you make it to the swimming hole the sun is high in the sky and it is fucking hot. The walk down was all downhill so you’re already dreading the walk back but you try to not think about it. You grin when you see the water and turn around to face the boys, arms outstretched.

“See? Isn’t this so much better than an overcrowded beach? We’re all alone!” You marvel.

John immediately removes his shirt, admiring the water, “Yeah okay, I’ll hand it to ya’ this is much better,”

You look over at Simon and send him a conspiratorial wink. John jogs past already beelining for the water to cool down. You place the bags down, bending over to bring the towels out.

“Need help?” Simon asks, almost looming over you.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Do you want to place the towels down? I need to find this sunscreen,” you reply.

Simon does as he’s told while you keep looking, damn sunscreen always disappears when you need it most. Eventually you find it at the bottom, when you straighten back up you see all three towels neatly laid out in a row. You smile in thanks and sit down on the nearest one.

You generously squeeze some sunscreen onto your hand before handing it over to Simon who’s now beside you, “Sunscreen?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t need,”

“What?” You frown, “Everyone needs it,”

He shrugs, “Not me,”

“Simon, put the fucking sunscreen on,” he’s being ridiculous now.

He shakes his head, pushing the bottle back into your hands. You take your chance and slap your other hand against his outstretched arm, a big white spot of sunscreen is now splattered all over his tattooed arm.

“Oh no,” you gasp, “God I’m just so clumsy, let me get that for you,” amused by your own ridiculous acting, you try not to laugh as you rub the sunscreen into his arm.

Simon looks down at you imploringly, watching you rub your hands up and down his arm. He refuses to admit that it feels nice, and looks away from you. Focusing on John who’s swimming towards the other end of the hole.

You hold your hands up, still covered in sunscreen, “Might as well do your other arm, wouldn’t want you to tan unevenly.”

Like he gives a fuck. He rolls his eyes and tilts his body, giving you access to his other arm, with a grin you spread the excess sunscreen over it. John swims towards you both, stepping out of the water now drenched head to toe. He cackles when he sees you finishing applying the sunscreen.

“Roped you into it did she?” He sympathises.

He scoffs, “I feel like a child,”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, pulling away to grab more sunscreen, “Your turn Johnny, get down here so I can get your back,”

John immediately sits down in front of you, not willing to fight you on this one. He looks over at Simon, “Should go in Si, water’s warm and empty.”

Simon grunts, watching the water for a moment. You’re busy rubbing sunscreen into your brother’s shoulders, when Simon stands, you don’t take notice until you see his shirt drop on the towel he was previously occupying. You watch over John’s shoulder as he walks towards the watering hole, broad back on display for you to stare at. Your jaw drops as you take him in, all his scars and the tattoos that crawl up his biceps and onto his chest.

“Close your mouth,” John mutters, not even looking at you.

“It’s not— fuck off,” you blush, pointedly looking away.

“You’re about as obvious a brick wall,” he looks over his shoulder at you, mischievous smile on his face.

You glare, “I’m not obvious about anything,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? You rub sunscreen into everyone’s arms?”

“That was taken out of context,” you defend.

John turns back, “Sure it was.”

He eventually moves to sit on the other towel beside you, watching Simon swim back towards the bank. You remove your t-shirt revealing your one-piece bathing suit. As you apply sunscreen, John leans over.

“Your birthday is coming up right?” He asks.

You hum, rubbing up and down your arm, “Yeah, in a week. You keen on coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I could go for drinks, you got any cute friends?”

Your eyes roll, “Don’t be a sleaze, I’m not cleaning up your mess.”

Just then Simon re-emerges, the chest you didn’t see before now all you can see. You absently rub sunscreen into your neck as you watch him trek back, John is talking but it’s white noise. You only zone back in when you seen Simon looking at you questioningly.

“Sorry?” You pardon.

“Simon was wondering what day your birthday was,” John supplies helpfully, smug as he does so.

“Oh!” You recover, “It’s next Friday, I’m going for drinks with a few friends. Which you’re more than welcome to tag along to,”

Simon nods walking over to his towel. John leans in to whisper, “Nice save, idiot,”

You slap his arm, cringing in embarrassment, “Fuck off, you’re not getting any of my friends now,” you hiss.

Simon pretends to not hear, draping his towel over his neck to dry any water. The swimming hole is peaceful, and hearing you and Johnny bicker oddly puts him at ease.

He’s curious about how your birthday will unfold.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you

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corkinavoid · 9 months ago

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DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

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sarahroutldge · 7 months ago

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I love you, I'm sorry.

a/n: requested based on a prompt list - the dialogue prompt is in bold! gif not mine, all credits to the creator (also the title has nothing to do with the song, it was just stuck in my head lol)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj maybank drunkenly hooked up a few nights ago, and neither of you know how to deal with that. (routledge!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff/humor, angst w/ a happy ending, implied sexual content, drinking, semi-proofread, I think that's it

John Booker Routledge never thought he’d actually have to tell his best friend JJ Maybank that his little sister was off limits. Not once did it ever occur to him that JJ would ever think of you in a different way; he hardly liked to consider the idea that you dated anyone in the first place, let alone that you’d express any interest in the man he knew inside-and-out.

But things change and people get older. After you and the rest of the Pogues found El Dorado and began construction on Poguelandia, JJ started to see you differently. Sure, he always found you attractive, but JJ also found every woman he encountered attractive, so he never thought much of it.

And you certainly didn’t ever think of JJ in that way either. At heart, you were a relationship girl; and while the fact that you were single was proof enough that no relationship of yours had worked out in the past, one of your greatest strengths was that you knew what you wanted. You didn’t seek out something casual because you knew you’d be left unfulfilled. You wanted something all-consuming and destined for marriage. Seeing your older brother grow and mature in his relationship with Sarah Cameron only clarified that further. In your mind, if the second-most relationship-allergic person you knew (after JJ of course) was able to dive headfirst into marriage with a girl so remarkably different from himself, then you decided you wouldn’t settle for any less.

Feelings, however, have a funny way of messing with plans and expectations. While JJ had essentially lived with you and your brother for years, building Poguelandia only pushed the two of you even further together. And watching someone so unpredictable and chaotic as JJ tame himself for the sake of his friends and his future stirred something in you that you hadn’t been expecting at all.

Over the months, your interactions with JJ changed, little by little, and for a while neither of you noticed. It just grew natural for JJ to fix something in the bait shop that you were fussing over, or for you to bring JJ a sandwich or a snack while he worked. You found little ways to make the other’s day brighter, even if subconsciously you never even considered why you were doing these little favors in the first place.

What actually brought the two of you together wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, however. One night, after a long day of work on the house, the Pogues found themselves hanging out above the bait shop, buzzed off of beers, seltzers, and a few joints made of flower grown right from Kiara’s secret spot in the garden. And while the rest of the Pogues eventually found their ways inside and to sleep, JJ and you probably drank a bit too much. One thing led to another, and that was the first night you hooked up. It was slow, passionate, and clumsy, and while the both of you would later blame it on the alcohol and the weed, deep inside you were both fully aware that it was simply the end result of months of pining.

And that’s how you found yourself waking up on the hammock above the bait shop in only one of JJ’s t-shirts and a pair of underwear. The combination of the blinding North Carolina sunrise along with John B.’s extremely loud footsteps on the floor below practically forced your eyes open. While you play the night before over in your head, trying to piece it all together, you’re scrambling to get the rest of your clothes on.

Running downstairs with your shoes untied, you let out a huge “oof” as you collide with your brother, almost sending the two of you to the ground.

“Good morning to you, too, sis,” John B. says, his eyes expressing his confusion at the fact that you obviously slept upstairs last night.

“Oh, um, sorry, JB, I guess I just drank too much last night and crashed on the hammock,” you practically vomit out.

“Riiiiight,” John B. responds, clearly not convinced but nonetheless wholly uninterested in this situation in the first place. “Just, uh, go shower. You stink.”

Assuming John B.’s comment is a joke, you let out a laugh that immediately sounds forced. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I planned on.”

John B. shoots you a thumbs-up before making his way behind the counter, clearly prepping to open the bait shop for customers. Deciding to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, you begin to make your way back to the house. However, your brain can’t help but consider the possibility that only more awkwardness awaits you back in the house, which you’re really not ready to process. You spin around to face John B. at the entrance to the bait shop. “Hey, uh, is JJ up?”

John B. doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing at the counter, clearly focused on something else. “Yeah, he took his bike to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, I think.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then turn back around to make your way into the house. Occupied with trying to wrack your brain about what exactly happened last night, you again stumble into someone else as you walk through the kitchen.

“Ow,” Sarah squeaks.

You immediately apologize, looking her in the eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” you explain, hoping she’ll move out of the way so you can make your way to your bedroom upstairs.

But Sarah, unfortunately, has the attention to detail that your brother lacks. Looking you in the eyes, her brows furrow. “Did you sleep outside last night?”

You scratch your head. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh, crashed after all those drinks, you know?”

One thing that Sarah does share with your brother, however, is her unwillingness to let things go. Clearly noticing that something is on your mind, her eyes stare into yours, as if she thinks that she can figure out everything about you based on your facial expressions alone. And evidently, she can, because she then proceeds to whisper-yell, “Y/N, is that a hickey?”

She lightly taps a new bruise on your neck that JJ must have left last night, and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the action. You bat her hand away, and she smirks when she realizes what you must be hiding.

“I don’t have time for this,” you blurt out, before maneuvering yourself around Sarah and walking over to the bottom of the stairs.

“Whatever you say,” she taunts behind you, and you can practically hear her giggle as you make your way up the steps.

Once you get to your bedroom, you lock the door behind you. Sliding down the wall, you let out a sigh, grateful that you met no more obstacles on the way upstairs. But as soon as your butt hits the ground, reality comes crashing down, and you realize that you have a much harder obstacle to deal with than running into one of your friends in the hallway. Instead, you have to deal with the fact that you slept with JJ Maybank—the man you’ve known practically your entire life who not only happens to be one of your closest friends, but even more than that, is your brother’s best friend. Yeah, you’re screwed.

For the next few days, JJ avoided you at all costs. He didn’t want to face the consequences of what you’d done, and was worried more than anything that his friendship with you (and John B. for that matter) would be ruined. And while you had the same idea for a while, within only a few days you decided that talking about it was the only way to move forward. Knowing JJ’s extensive dating history, you were convinced that JJ would only tell you that it was a mistake and a regret. You prepared yourself for the negative, and found him alone at night in the employees-only area above the tackle and bait shop.

You carefully tiptoe up the stairs to prevent JJ from getting spooked and immediately bailing on the conversation. When he notices your presence, he shoots up from where he was laying on the hammock, just like you had anticipated. “JJ, we need to talk—”

“Y/N—”

“No, please, JJ, just let me speak,” you clarify, before walking closer to him.

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, JJ sighs, gesturing for you to continue.

Working up the nerves, you wring your hands, preparing yourself for a moment that seemed more daunting than any of the actually threatening experiences you’d had with the Pogues over the last few years. “You know me, Jayj. You know that I don’t have one-night stands or casual relationships. And I can’t go on like this, pretending like what happened between us is normal or that I can just ignore it. I know that you’ve probably never had feelings for me, but if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll regret it. I… I like you, JJ.” Taking a breath, you step back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. Only now, you have to brace yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Looking into JJ’s eyes, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that’s nothing short of terrifying. You’ve known JJ since he was a kid, and he’s not the best liar, so you can usually tell what he’s feeling from the moment you see him. But this time, you’re clueless, and the silence is deafening.

“JJ, please say something. If you’re going to tell me you don’t like me back, then just say it so we can move on and put this behind us.”

He brings his hands to his face, trying to piece the words together. “Just, uh, gimme a minute.” You nod at him, before moving to sit where he’d previously sat on the hammock. You swing your knees up to your chest, hugging them in comfort.

You watch as he paces the floor around you. It’s not long before he speaks, but it feels like hours as you wait.

“Y/N, I… We’ve been friends forever. You, me, and John B. It was the three of us for the longest time and then Pope came and then Kiara and… Uh, I’m getting off track.” He starts fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he looks down at the ground, preparing for what he’s about to say next. “I won’t lie—you’ve always been hot. Like super fucking hot. And I’m not good at relationships or whatever, but I… I like you, too.”

And your ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, so your head immediately jerks up to meet his eyes. “Wait… you do?”

He nods, and you can feel a smile beginning to form on your face. “Well, then, why didn’t you just say that?” you ask.

“Because it doesn’t matter,” JJ answers, and your heart immediately sinks in your chest, once again. “I can’t do this to John B., Y/N. I just can’t.”

“Who cares about him? He’ll get over it. John B. is not my problem.”

“That’s the point, Y/N! He’ll be there for you no matter what. But the Pogues are basically all I have left. You and John B. are my family, and if I mess shit up with you, I’ll lose you both. And I can’t do that to myself.”

“You won’t mess it up, J,” you reassure, though part of you understands what he’s getting at.

“When have I not messed something up? I mess shit up all the time, and you mean too much to me for me to risk it. You need to go and find someone out there better than me, because as much as it’ll hurt me to see you with someone else, it’d be a lot worse if you were in pain and I was the reason. It’s because I’m in love with you that I wish we’d never done what we did,” he blurts out.

And while you were trying your best to listen to him carefully, all you heard was him telling you that he’s in love with you. “You… You love me?” you whisper, and JJ’s eyes go back to the floor.

“Of course I fucking do! How could I not? You’re gorgeous and funny and weird and you know me better than anyone else, and I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin shit with you. So just let me go, because this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

As you process what JJ says, he rushes down the stairs. The heavy pattern of his boots hitting the wooden floors grabs your attention again, and you sprint downstairs to meet him before he can run away completely. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. When his head moves, you can see tears in his eyes, even as the sky gets darker. “It’s not okay to just leave me here after telling me you love me back,” you choke out.

“We can’t—we’ll never be together,” he bites back, trying to sound angry. But you can read right through him, and he knows it. You drop his arm and reach up to grab his face with your hands. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear.

“JJ, you’re right: I do know you better than anyone else. And yes, you’re not the best at relationships. But don’t you think that with us it could be different? That maybe because we know each other so well we can figure it out together?”

He begins to shake his head, but before he can get any more words out, you continue. “JJ, I know everything about you. I know the worst things you’ve done and the best things. You’re always calling me a know-it-all, and yet right now you don’t seem to believe me when I tell you that I know we can do this. We can do it, and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it because I can’t picture myself loving anyone else the way I love you.” And as the tears stream down your cheeks, JJ inches a bit closer to you.

“You… You love me?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. How could I not? You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, bravest person I know and my life would be so unbelievably boring if you weren’t in it.”

His eyes look all over your face, trying to see if he can detect a lie. But all he sees is someone so convinced in their feelings, so articulate, and he can’t believe that it’s possible but he might just love you more than he did five minutes ago.

“Let me deal with John B., okay? I get why you’re scared and I would never want to come between the two of you, but you deserve to be loved, JJ. And I want to be the one who gets to love you.”

As soon as you get the words out, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you’re so glad he reached out to hold your waist because otherwise you’d be falling to your knees. It’s magical and romantic and you can taste the salty years you’ve both shed. His right hand moves to grab the side of your face and pull you even closer somehow, before moving back down to your waist and squeezing you in anticipation. The two of you break away, panting. He grips you again and gestures for you to jump, which you do, and you wrap your legs around his back. He carries you over to the counter of the bait shop, where he sets you down. Your legs squeeze his, and he grabs ahold of your face with his hands. “Before we um… do anything else… Are you sure?”

You nod immediately. “Babe, I need the words.”

Your heart clenches at the term of affection, and you pull his shirt to bring him even closer to you. “I am absolutely, positively sure that I love you, JJ Maybank.” He grins so wide you start giggling.

He smashes his mouth back to yours, and this time the kiss is hotter and needier. It’s just a mess of clashing teeth, lips, and hands, with little “I love yous” whispered in between.

JJ tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you break away so that he can lift it off, throwing it somewhere else in the shop. His shirt follows, but before he can unclasp your bra, you push him back. “JJ, I’m not fucking you in the bait shop.”

“It’s dark out and no one’s gonna see—”

You jump down from the counter. “It’s either in the house or in the Twinkie. Your choice,” you challenge, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, people do it all the time,” he justifies, and you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you ask.

“Hooking up in the bait shop, duh. I caught Pope and Cleo on top of the freezer once, and I’m pretty sure I saw Kiara making out with her ex-girlfriend behind the counter.”

You roll your eyes. “You are literally proving my point,” you say, and he scratches his head.

“Well, I know for a fact that John B. and Sarah hooked up in the bait shop once and I didn’t see anything!” he explains.

“That’s not any better! You’re talking about my brother!” you whine, and JJ starts to see that you’re not budging.

He lifts you up bridal-style into his arms, and you squeal. “Fine, my lady, my room it is.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Have you cleaned it recently?” you ask, knowing how messy his room gets.

“Uh… Like, maybe not super recently. But I can make it nice,” he offers.

You squint. “As nice as my room?”

“Yeah, let’s just go to yours,” he says, and you giggle at how easily he gives in. As he walks down the talk, carrying you in his arms, you can see a smirk grow on his face. “But after we’re done, it’ll be as dirty as mine.”

“JJ!”

so... what did y'all think? I might consider making a part two where john b. finds out. is that something y'all would be interested in??

also... feedback is very much appreciated - pls comment, reblog, send asks, etc.!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank reader insert #jj maybank x routledge!reader #routledge!reader #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #she writes

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obxsummer · 9 months ago

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leave me again // jj maybank

pairing: ex!jj maybank x routledge!reader

request: Routledge reader and JJ broke up during the 18 months and now she watches him with Kie? 🫢👀

summary: based on the song by kelsea ballerini; after two years together, you return to outer banks only to lose jj to kiara in a blink of an eye.

warnings: minor szn 4 spoilers, angst hehehe

navigation

You didn’t understand. You really didn’t.

How could you go from such a beautiful relationship and one of the happiest times of your life to watching your best friend get together with your ex-boyfriend? It seemed like such a cruel joke to watch people who had been with you your entire life turn against you in this way.

It took less than a week for JJ to cut things off after everyone came back from El Dorado, claiming he needed to reevaluate everything and take time for himself. Apparently, that didn’t last long, because three days later, you caught Kiara sharing his bed in Sarah’s rental condo, looking like the happiest he’d ever been.

"I can explain, just-"

The scene in front of you was sick. You'd heard JJ yell out in his sleep, something that was more common than not with his nightmares. Instincts had you in front of his door before you knew it, wanting to comfort him in case he needed someone. You didn't expect to find this.

JJ, shirtless, next to Kiara, of all people, who was wearing the boy's shirt. In bed. Together.

Whatever JJ wanted to say, you didn't give him a chance to hear it. Lips tucked in a thin line, you gave a nod. "Sorry for interrupting, hope everything's okay."

And with a smile on your face and no room for explanations, you closed the door.

“Are you still avoiding them?” Sarah’s voice came from behind as you watched JJ and Kie prep the boat for the upcoming dive.

You huffed, “Do you blame me?”

She stopped to stand beside you, her eyes watching the duo on the boat move together. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Not a bit.”

Sarah watched you carefully as if she was waiting for the dam to break. In the almost three weeks JJ and Kie had been ‘together’, you hadn’t cried and you hadn’t lashed out. You’d told her the second you found them in bed and they started spewing excuses, you just apologized for interrupting and dismissed yourself with a smile.

John B was concerned. As your older brother, it was his job to defend you and watch out for you, no matter the circumstance. When the two of you first got together, John B made JJ swear that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, swearing there would be consequences. While you’d kept your cool, he did not and JJ managed to catch himself a black eye and swollen cheek as a result.

“Has John B talked to them?”

“Has John B what?” Your brother interrupted your question as he joined the two of you in the shop, hauling a hefty backpack. He reached out to grab your shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “You okay?”

You nodded in response, clamping your mouth shut and looking back at the water. Kiara was going down on the dive with JJ, something about not leaving him alone which made your eyes roll. Pope and John B were going on the boat, leaving you, Sarah, and Cleo on shore to be lookout.

“Are you lying to me?”

You’d lost so many pieces of yourself in the moments shared with JJ, allowing the vulnerability you had believed he would never take advantage of. It was no surprise John B could see through the cracks you’d inevitably let form. You sighed, head dropping between your shoulder blades as you let out a steady breath. “I’m fine, Bee. Promise.”

John B was unconvinced by your words but didn’t push. He heard your almost silent crying at night. It was obvious you were hurting by the way you closed yourself off and hid in your skin. He hated that his so-called best friend was the one to treat you this way and cause you to feel like this.

“You can take a break,” He reassured as his backpack dropped to the ground as he pulled you into a full hug and placed a kiss on your head. “Nobody would blame you.”

You hugged him back and fought off the tears that burned your eyes. There would be a point and time to talk about all of this, but it wasn’t here and now. If you were being honest, there was nothing you’d rather do than run away from Kildare right now, but it wouldn’t be the best option by any means.

“You guys ready up there?” JJ’s voice echoed around the morning air as he called out to John B.

You hugged your brother tighter before letting go, forcing a smile on your lips. “Be careful, please?”

He rubbed your head lovingly, smiling when you tried to shove him away. “Always.”

You stepped away to give him time with Sarah and started to head back toward the house when someone called your name. JJ’s shoes stomped against the new wooden deck, the sound getting louder as he got closer. You froze in your spot as he rounded to stop you from walking away. “Can we talk?”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering how someone you loved so incredibly much could make you feel this way. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

When you moved to pass him, he grabbed your elbow gently to prevent it. “Please, I just want to get this out before… in case I don’t-”

“You’ll be back.” It was hard to avoid the instinct of reassuring him. He swallowed thickly and met your gaze. He would be back, you just didn't know if you'd be here to see it. The two of you hadn’t been alone since everything went down and there was plenty of awkwardness to show.

“I just… I’m sorry. About everything. I should’ve told you, but it all happened so fast and-”

“Did you ever love me?” The question came out of your mouth before you could think about it. You wanted to ask it for a while, to find out exactly what went through his head when he let Kiara climb in bed with him that night.

The opening and closing of his mouth was enough of a response to shatter you. Tears formed faster than you liked as you nodded.

“Figured," You breathed out, "Goodbye, JJ.”

You left him on the dock and didn’t look back as you walked away. From him, from Kie, from the friends you considered family until they made you feel like anything but. You swore then and there that you would never fall for someone in that way again.

After all, staying only made you get real good at pretend.

Coming back from the dive had been a mess of chaos. Kie and JJ were at the hospital recovering from nitrogen in their blood while the remainder of the group came back to the house with the amulet, hoping to figure out what was inscribed inside.

John B called your name as he entered the house, practically bouncing in excitement to tell you what they’d found. You’d opted to stay back after speaking to JJ on the dock, which they didn’t fault you for, knowing you needed time alone.

When silence followed JB’s call, he frowned. Something wasn’t right. The main floor was empty, not a sign of you or your relative presence in the area. Room empty too, leaving John B to question where the hell you went. They had the Twinkie and the dirt bikes were outside which meant if you went anywhere it would be on your own two feet.

“John B.”

The tone in Sarah’s voice told him his intuition was right. She met him in the doorway of your room with a piece of paper in hand, holding it in his direction. He didn’t even need to read it to know the answer to his question.

You were gone. And you weren’t coming back any time soon.

part two here :)

a/n: i hate this i'm so sorry

navigation

#obx4 #outer banks x reader #obx #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #kiara carerra #sarah cameron #john b routledge #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #outer banks x you

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rin-may-1103 · 1 year ago

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The Master Post.

Please actually read this, I can't keep up with all the comments. 🥲

Tag List? Yes, there is a tag list. If you'd like to be ADDED, please leave a comment on the Stories Linked Post or the Tag List Post. If the tags aren't working for some reason, you can either Follow this post by clicking the bell (or the three dots) or follow the Story's Linked Post the same way. I'll update both Relevant Posts when there is a New Part.

Yes, I have an Ao3. It's under the same user name, just with (_) instead of (-). Most of my works are locked due to personal preference, so you'll need an account if you want to read most of them.

I hope y'all keep enjoying the stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

(currently dealing with life, so posts are going to be very, very slow, sorry.)

Stories and Summaries:

The Wrong Robin Au (DP x DC):

Tim Drake saw Danny do a quadruple somersault, which resulted in him believing Danny was the first Robin for years. He still figured out Bruce but thinks Dick is in the dark. Now with the second Robin dead, and Batman quickly reaching the end of his sanity, Tim takes it upon himself to get Robin to come back. Danny is very confused when this random kid tries to blackmail him into becoming Robin.

Badger Day Au (DP x DC):

Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation and he would like to be let out now, please. The league is very worried.

Delilah's language (DP x DC):

Bruce Wayne approaches the Fentons because Damian is a big fan of Danny for his work in the conservation of the purpleback gorilla. So now Danny is going to the birthday of this random kid so he can teach him gorilla sign language so he can talk to the purple-back gorilla as well.

Just a Bite (DP x DC):

Danny's homeless on the streets of Gotham, when he gets a terrible idea from some passerby. Three weeks after living with the Waynes, they still haven't noticed he's not supposed to be there.

72 hours (DP x DC):

During a battle with the rest of the league, John Constantine is accidentally sent into the palace of Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead, and Bane of the Living. Danny just wanted to have a simple spa day.

Biggest Regret (DP x DC):

Danny Had been optimistic when he created The Email. Three days, that's what he gave himself. Three days to fix or get out of whatever problem he was dealing with and open his laptop to restart the timer. Three days. Past him had thought that If he ever got caught they'd just kill him; it's what they said they would do this whole time, so why wouldn't he think otherwise? It's been more than three days, and at this point, he's just glad someone could fulfill his last wish.

The Disappointment (DP x DC):

Ra's has stated his disapproval of one of the twins, now Talia is rushing to get them out of there and to Bruce to be safe. Danny has other ideas.

Black Retrievers and Golden Cats (DP x DC):

He remembered how it took two hours for his mind to catch up to what he had done, two hours for him to realize he had just killed his brother. It took another two days to realize his brother was never coming back, that the pits had not worked. Damian stared at the camera footage infront of him, his family's voices buzzing with theories and analyzing everything they could. He remembered his brother's bright carefree smile just minutes before Damian had killed him. So, why? Why was he seeing it again?

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row. (DP X DC):

Tim doesn't understand how he's losing at university to a toddler. Danny's not having a great time, but it's fine because now he can terrorize Red Robin.

The Willpower of Space (DP X DC):

A faulty green lantern ring wakes from it's accidental eon long sleep due to how powerful Danny's willpower is. It decides that Danny is a worthy wielder and grants Danny the ability to use it. There's just one problem; Danny keeps dying. and the ring doesn't understand what's going on. Oa is very concerned.

The Weeping Boy Au (DP X DC):

Opening a portal to a dimension between dimensions always leads to some sort of accident; for instance, Danny's death. It just so happens that at the exact moment the portal opened, his earth and another had overlapped, leaving his death to loop repeatedly in the other for as long as the portal stayed. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that Danny just accidentally turned the portal off and is now in the other dimension instead of the zone. (The Batfamily, who have been watching this kid die over and over again, are very concerned.)

The Eyes of Death Au (DP X DC):

In an attempt to prevent a cult from causing problems, Danny accidentally convinces the Justice League and Co. that he's possessing himself. Damian is not happy that his boyfriend is apparently the new June Moone.

Aspiring escape artist (DP X DC):

The new foster kid might be a little more traumatized than the other kids they usually take in for a while, but it's not like they can't handle it. That is, until Danny started sneaking out, past the bat-grade security system, without getting caught and without using his powers.

Through Your Eyes (DP X DC):

Sometimes, soulmates randomly switch bodies. It doesn't always happen; in fact, it's actually more common to not switch. Danny hadn't really thought he'd ever switch, doubly so after his accident. So you can imagine his surprise when not only does he switch, but he switches with Damian Wayne, aka Robin.

Cabin 18 and the Missing Kids (DP X DC):

Vlad is planning something, unfortunately, Danny's stuck at camp and can't sneak away. But maybe that's ok, because what's this about missing kids? And who does his roommates think they are fooling with their 'normal' kid acts? They're obviously vigilantes. And hey, maybe Danny might actually get a break for once, it's not like his parents can't defend themselves.

Turn back the Frozen Sands of Time (DP X DC):

Danny wakes up in his nine-year-old body; no memories of how he got here or why. All he knows is he needs to stick to the timeline, figure out what happened, and fix it. So, why did his mother just merc his grandfather, and why are there a group of vigilantes (who, for all intents and purposes, shouldn't exist as a team yet) yelling at her and his brother?

Perks of Being Half Dead (DP X SPN):

It was too dangerous for Danny to go back; he doubted it would ever be safe again, not after what they did to him. But it wasn't as if he had a choice at the moment anyway; the likelihood of his getting home from this new dimension was looking slim to none. And now he's being mistaken for some hunter's kid, what the hell, Clockwork?

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oceantornadoo · 5 months ago

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ch8 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: reader has some body insecurities and a small panic attack. also oral sex. not at the same time lmao

masterlist | next

In the hazy morning of the next day, John moves to get out of bed at his ungodly workout time. Instead of feigning sleep like usual, you grab his shoulder forcefully. He freezes, then turns to look at you as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “Stay.” You murmur, voice gravelly from sleep. “You sure?” He asks, but he’s already sinking back down into the mattress. You nod, then climb on top of him, your head in the crook of his neck like always. “Go back to bed, John.” And he does.

The thing is, John wasn’t supposed to marry her. She wasn’t Kyle’s first recommendation, nor second. He had recommended an oil heiress, which his Captain turned down. Next, an Irish mafia princess, also turned down. In fact, his Captain didn’t seem to want to be married at all. Which was fine, if this was a normal life where Kyle hadn’t been nicked off the streets after picking the pockets of a Price man and plopped into the office of John Price, a leader who needed sneaky men with audacity like Kyle. Now, Price was pushing 40 without heirs, and that needed to be solved quickly. The Riley sister was only offered as an offhand comment.

“Christ, sir, if y’re gonna be picky, might as well marry the Riley. Then we’ll have a real shitshow on our hands.” Instead of answering, John leaned back in his office chair and stroked his beard, like a villain from a movie. “She single?” If Kyle wasn’t better trained, his mouth would’ve dropped. But he was Head of Security for a reason, so all he did was hand his boss her file.

Kyle didn’t like the Rileys - specifically, John MacTavish. The bastard was always trying to one up him, with new toys on the streets and the threat of bombs lurking around every corner. He knew MacTavish was close with Ghost’s sister, having seen the two giggle, thick as thieves, at galas and weddings. If he was a stupider man, he’dve sensed an affair, but he knew she wasn’t Tav’s type. It was a well-kept secret, but Kyle kept it as well as his own. There were some lines you didn’t cross, even in this business.

Price flipped through the file, frowning at the data before him. “Ghost has had these weapons all this time?” Kyle shakes his head, pointing to a graph in the report. “It only really started when he recruited MacTavish, ‘bout six years ago. An’ my sources tell me the sister’s got a mind f’r business.” Price hums thoughtfully. Kyle knows what, or who, he’s thinking about. Shepherd encroaching on their territory, supplied with weapons from American ex-pats. The streets smell of gunpowder, more and more skirmishes by the day. “Ghost’s tryin’ t’ get cleaner.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact. Kyle’s informants had made him aware of the Riley family trying to buy businesses, only to be turned away when they found out who they were owned by. Price’s businesses for Ghost’s money and weapons. “Might not be the worst trade, sir.” Kyle murmurs. He can’t believe he’s proposing a wedding where he’ll have to see MacTavish on the other side of the aisle.

After said wedding, Kyle started regretting the whole thing. He knows what it is to love a man, to be in love with one, and that’s not what he has with his Captain. It’s more like seeing a big brother leave for college, knowing he’s nearby but out of reach. The plan was to have Mrs. X, as the security team had taken to calling Price’s future wife, live in a property an hour out of the city. Out of harm’s way but easy to visit when baby-making was required. The plan had been developed before they’d decided on a wife for him. It decidedly went out the window once he’d decided on Ms. Riley.

Suddenly she was in the Castle, changing decor and befriending staff. She was meeting with Laswell and had taken Terrance as her own, a change Kyle had not approved of. So, sure, he was a bit of a jerk to her. It was the childish notion that she’d taken his favorite person, and he’d lashed out, only to be reprimanded by said person. Kyle's in toddler timeout, and he's determined to make it right.

A few days after the Friday incident, he finds her eating lunch in the kitchen. It seems she’s finally befriended Chef, a feat he could never perform. Chef’s a French grandpa, huffing out syllables that don’t go together under his breath.

“What’re ya eatin’?” An odd opening, seeing as this is their second conversation ever. He plops down into the chair next to her as she sets down her sandwich, brows furrowed in a question. He can’t blame his Captain; she is pretty. Not his usual type in women, but her wit would attract any man. “Um, a sandwich.” She eventually responds, after getting over the shock of Kyle in her kitchen chair. He probably could’ve been smoother on entry.

“Right, well…” He looks at her and she stares back, like they’re locked in a game. He breaks away first, feeling like he’s lost. Kyle reminds himself he’s not a bloody twelve-year-old. “I liked wha’ you did with the sittin’ room.” That opens her up, a hesitant smile growing on her face. “Really? Those chairs were so uncomfortable, I could barely sit on them for more than five minutes without getting sore.” He huffs in agreement. There’s a reason no one meets in the sitting room. “Ya sure tha’s no’ the only reason you’re sore?” It slips out too easy, a question he’d usually tease one of his men with, not his boss’s wife. Kyle opens his mouth to apologize but is cut off by the sound of her laughter. It’s not manufactured to sound pretty, almost like a snort. “Sorry, I just haven’t heard those kinds of jokes in a while. You remind me of Johnny. Thank you for making me laugh, Kyle.” She seems almost grateful for his presence, and it doesn’t take an idiot to see she’s missing her family. Even if that means getting compared to MacTavish.

“Call me Gaz, ‘s what everyone calls me.” She nods contentedly, reaching for her sandwich to take another bite. The silence is peaceful, interrupted when he remembers why he originally sought her out. Kyle pulls out a report he’s been carrying and sets it near her plate, noting how she sucks in a breath at the title. Protection Plan for Mrs. Price.

“Since y’r openin’ up y’r store, Price wanted me t’ give ya a team. Could’ve done it on my own but I had a feelin’ y’d want to give some input.” She nods thoughtfully, pushing her plate away to focus on the report. It’s a few minutes until she finishes it, diligently reading every page. “I want at least one woman on my team. And I still want freedom, I don’t want to be followed everywhere.” He sucks in a breath at her words, which won’t be possible if Price has anything to say about it.

“Righ’ well, can’t guarantee tha’ second part. Not sure if ya’ve noticed, but London’s an active war zone right now. They’ll be discreet, an’ the lowest amount I can do is four.” She harrumphs, crossing her arms like how his Captain does when he’s upset. It’s eerie how they’re already starting to mirror each other. “Fine, but I want Terrance on it.” Kyle nods, going to stand.

“Gaz.” She grabs his forearm to get his attention. “I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but I’d like to be friends. If you’re willing.” He gives her a half smile, ruffling her hair. Kyle doesn’t notice how she freezes at his action, like she’s trapped in a memory. “Only if ya give me the rest of y’r sandwich.” Unfreezing, she laughs and pushes the plate towards him. “Don’t worry, there’s enough to go around.” He winks at her, and heads towards the security room. He might’ve accepted Terrance’s earlier security report, but he’s determined to make it up to his Captain, starting with re-running Phil’s background. Kyle’s got some security tricks up his sleeve, and he’s ready to prove his title to John.

The dress fits you like a glove.

It’s a fresh Saturday night, London’s night sky only slightly smoggy. John’s been invited to some benefit for cancer, a philanthropic cause you didn’t even know he supported. So now, you’re in a formal red dress, floor length with a high thigh slit. You stand in front of your vanity and smooth down the satin fabric, ready to slip on your heels. You usually do that step first, but they’re a mile high and you didn’t want to risk slipping on the carpeted dressing room floor. John’s been in the shower, but now he’s buttoning his shirt in the other room. Your dress is unzipped too, requiring a force of nature for the zip to go all the way to the top.

“John, can you help me?” He’s there in an instant, arms circling the length of your waist. “You look so fuckin’ good. Smell fuckin’ delicious.” He noses the crook of your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your perfume. John rubs his hands up and down, smoothing out creases in your dress. “So pretty f’ me, aren’t ya?” All you can do is nod when he’s like this, allowing yourself the precious gift of easy affection. “Can you help me with my heels?” He kisses your exposed collarbone, then squeezes your hip as he goes to find your heels. They’re higher than what you’re used to wearing, putting you closer to eye level with John. He goes to his knees, finding your right leg through the layers of fabric in his way. You got a pedicure the day before, patting yourself on the back as he kisses the top of your foot. “What’s gotten into you? It’s like you're under a spell or something.” He’s quiet as he slips on your shoe, kissing your ankle before setting it back down. John reaches for your other foot in quiet reverence. “Ya look like a princess.” He finally murmurs, having finished with your heels. “You feelin’ ok?” He asks. You shrug. Clearly, you haven’t hidden your nerves well. This is your first official entrance into mafia society as a couple, even if the lines of your relationship are too blurry for you to understand.

“Let me make ya feel better?” His hands are already tracing your plush skin, parting the slit of your dress. He works his way up efficiently, stopping at the apex of your thighs. “What’s this?” You shrug again, this time with a smirk on your face. “It’s black tie, right?” By black tie, you mean the black lace under your dress. It’s a little piece you found at a boutique lingerie store near the bookstore. There’s a heart cutout in the middle of the front part, right above your slit. John kisses the exposed skin, sucking hard before he pulls away. “Black tie my fuckin’ arse.” You giggle and push your hips forward in a wanting motion. “Weren’t you going to make me feel better?” He goes to work with a single-minded vigor. John pushes the scrap of lace to the side, nearing closer so he can lift your leg onto his shoulder. He doesn’t tease you like usual. Instead, he licks and sucks lewdly, moaning at your wetness. He flicks his tongue against your clit as it hardens at his motions. “Even sweeter down ‘ere.” The low tone of his voice vibrates against your cunt, sending a spark to your core. “She like when I talk to ‘er?” He’s talking to your cunt, you think. It’s hard to hear over the rushing of blood in your ears. All you do is nod, pushing his head closer with your free hand as your other one scrambles for purchase against the wood of your vanity.

“Thought so. So wet, baby, like I’ve been neglectin’ ya. Have I?” You shake your head as he keeps up the pace of his tongue, adding a finger into your hole to up the pressure. “No, no, not neglected.” You cry from near-overstimulation. You can practically feel him smile against your pussy, the scratch of his beard making the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. “Thought so. Yer husband takes care of ya, tha’ righ’?” Your hips cant against his face, almost fucking it. “Yes, yes, John.” He sucks your clit hard, finger pumping in and out. “She’s so close I can fuckin’ taste it. Come for me, go’on.” And you do, pressure rushing out of your core in waves. “Good girl, baby. Knew you could do it.” He tugs your underwear back in place, cleaning up the cum on your thighs with his fingers. You hear him suck them clean, sending another shock to your core.

John stands, wiping his hands off on his slacks. He’s in a full tuxedo and wears a dashing red tie to compliment your dress. You quickly peck him on the lips and pull back before he can ruin your makeup. His beard pulls up in a half-smile, elated that you kissed him first. It’s not hard to tell he loves when you do that, returning his affection of your own volition. “Thank you, Mr. Price. You clean up well yourself.” You tug his tie playfully. “Now zip me up.”

He does it gracefully, fingers brushing your back as he inches the zipper up. You swear this dress is too small as you suck in more and more the higher he zips. Unfortunately, your husband has the power of turning any encouragement into sinful words whispered in your ear. “There we go, tight fit, love. Squeeze in, baby, tha’s a girl. Feel ok?” You can only nod, ribs heavily constrained. It reminds you of your wedding dress, except this time you chose to be trapped.

It’s a whirlwind of a drive as John helps you into the limo and helps you out only minutes later. The gala is at a nearby museum, but etiquette and uncomfortable footwear required you to drive. It’s a grand marble building, like a bigger version of John’s flat. Limos line the outside as people step out of cars dressed to the nines. You do have something to look forward to tonight - your family.

John guides you in with a hand to the back and you’re already escaping his grasp to search for Simon, who promised he was coming. Apparently, philanthropic foundations are great to donate to when you run a gang that needs some tax benefits. You’ve been to a few of these, but a glance at John’s upcoming calendar revealed he donates a lot more than your brother. A new routine to get used to.

“On your left.” John murmurs, and sure enough, there’s the top of Simon’s blonde head. He’s Mr. Riley at these events, not Ghost. You hold yourself back from running. Instead, you gather your skirts and walk quickly towards him, ignoring how John’s hand slips from your back.

“Hi!” You don’t give Simon a chance to answer, smothering him in a hug. He picks you up at your waist and spins you, a remnant from your few shared childhood memories. “Hi, lovie. Look at you, all dressed up.” He sets you down gently. Simon’s hand brushes your left one, causing you both to glance at the ring on your hand. You catch a slight frown, but it disappears into the collage of scars on his face. “Doin’ ok?” He asks quietly, only at a volume you can hear. You glance back at John, who’s making small talk with Johnny as the two men stand nearby. You turn back to Simon with a small smile on your face, nodding shyly. “It’s goin’ ok.” He drags a hand down in his face in exasperation. “Christ, the way he looks at you, kid. Not somethin’ a brother should be seein’.” You groan, swatting his hand away. “Gross. You’re acting like I don’t have to constantly dodge you and Johnny making out.” You say it in present tense, like it’s a problem you’re still facing. Unperturbed, you grab his hand and make your way to the bar, leaving your dates behind. “C’mon, Si. Let’s catch up.”

You must’ve had black magic in that perfume of yours. It’s the only explanation for why John feels like this, like he can’t be untethered from you for more than a minute. He was worried this thing between you, new and delicate, was just lust, but it’s becoming clear it’s much more. It’s the way you immediately sought out your brother, not caring for social niceties. How you challenged him with your argument at the bookstore, fire in your eyes as you protected your livelihood. It’s all rolling into a grand, sticky mess in his heart, weighing heavier and heavier every day.

The gala is full of politicians milling against the backdrop of the London Art Museum. Paintings of old rich geezers surrounded by the bodies of new rich muppets. There’s some people dancing in a slow waltz in the middle of the room, with high tables bracketing the dance floor in a crude outline. He doesn’t think you’ve noticed any of this, content to abandon him high and dry in search of your brother. John exchanges niceties with Johnny MacTavish, then leaves him to find Kate. She’s around here somewhere, schmoozing with potential clients. She may work on retainer for John, but she’s an independent contractor in her own right, always on the lookout for the next big fish.

He finds her eventually, talking to a MP far from the dance floor near a statue. “Lord Walsh.” John inclines his head at the man, who’s severely shorter than him with a significant bald spot. “Mr. Price. I’m surprised to see you here.” Jon frowns at the insinuation. Kate slowly inches towards John, looking polished in her navy pantsuit. “How so?” There’s danger laced in his words which Lord Walsh takes a few seconds too long to process. “I, well, excuse me.” He exits not-so-gracefully with sweat beads running down his receding hairline. John turns back to Kate, who’s wearing a rare smirk. “What?” She shakes her head, turning to face the crowd. “Sometimes I forget how much of a shark you are. Too used to seeing you surrounded by finery at home.” He snorts, turning with her.

They both find his wife in the crowd, easy to spot with the shocking red of your dress. You’re throwing your head back in laughter at something Ghost said, giggling like a little kid. John feels a smile growing under his beard. Kate notices too, elbowing him in the side. “We get it, you’re disgustingly infatuated.” He shakes his head, dropping the smile. “‘S not like that.” She snorts, a rare show of emotion, a credit to how long they’ve worked together. “Whatever you say, John. Now let me find new clients before you scare them away.” He nudges her shoulder, content to stay alone as she walks away.

Unfortunately, his newfound solitude is immediately interrupted by a foul-smelling scent. He turns and lo and behold, there’s a phantom at his shoulder. “Lady Walsh.” John takes a step away from her, preventing their shoulders from brushing. “I saw you talking with my brother.” There’s a bite to her voice. It’s reminiscent of the one regrettable night they shared years ago, a night clouded with too much whiskey and not enough forethought. “Exchanging pleasantries.” He can hear her frown from a mile away.

“Is there something you need?” He bites out when she doesn’t respond. Lady Walsh does this occasionally, finding him at events and trying for a recreation of that lone night. He didn’t consider it then, but he especially doesn’t consider it now. In fact, all he can do is track the sound of your laughter and drown in it, even across the dance floor. Lady Walsh leaves, and John decides to find the bar that you’ve abandoned and bring you a drink.

“I miss you, Si.” You mumble after your second martini. He’s found you two a table in the corner, somewhere you can hear each other over the quartet. “I do too, kid. Manchester’s different without ya.” You take a sip of his water, then spit it out when you realize it’s vodka. “Gross! Since when do you drink vodka?” He takes the glass out of your hand and downs it in one sip. “Johnny’s been on a kick. Think he’s been bored since ya left.” There’s immediate regret on his face as you take in his words. “No, love, ‘s not yer fault. There’s been other things happenin’. Nothin’s yer fault.” You nod, swallowing hard. “I think I’m gonna find the bathroom.” He nods worriedly. You push on the table to get up, but he stops you with a soft hand on your shoulder. Simon kisses your forehead, then shoves you towards the bathroom. “Don’t overthink. Go piss.” You snort, swatting his hand away.

In the bathroom, you stop in the mirror to apply your lipstick. A woman exits one of the stalls behind you, going to wash your hands. She’s like the image of your better self, with clearer skin and a figure you’d kill for. It’s the gin speaking, your brain reasons, but that doesn’t stave off any insecurities you’re projecting. Your heart is raw after your conversation with Simon, and this just makes it worse.

“You’re John’s new wife, right?” The mystery woman says as she finishes washing her hands. It shakes you out of your reverie. “Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” She purses her lips, now reapplying her blush. “Lady Walsh. I’m not surprised; I don’t think John would’ve mentioned me.” You frown at her insinuation. She takes your silence as acceptance, turning towards you with a feline smile on her lips. “I’m surprised you’re even walking. Lord knows it took me a week to recover from the last night I spent with John.” Your mouth drops. “Anyways, love your dress!” She breezes past you in a whirlwind of soap and perfume, leaving the bathroom gracefully.

You, however, exit in a fit of starts and stops. Your chest aches with the pain of breathing, reminiscent of the panic attack you had in a London garden almost two months ago. That thought makes things worse, blurring your vision. Someone grabs your arm, a warm presence guiding you to a bench in a darkened hallway.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” It’s John.

“No, I- I just need a second.” In the background, you hear people laugh and glasses tinkle. John places a warm hand over your knee, grounding you to the moment. “In an’ out, yeah?” You nod as your breathing slowly calms. It’s just you and him for a second, listening to the sounds of your breath go in and out. “Want some water?” He moves to get up, but you grab his arm before he can. “Stay with me?” You whisper. John sits back down, wrapping that same arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Wanna tell me about it?” He kisses the temple of your head, and you stiffen under his touch. The change is noticeable as the air goes cold. “Why haven’t we fucked?” It bursts out of you, almost in anger. John’s shock is clear as day as his arm drops from your waist. “I- why’re you askin’?” His hesitation is not what you wanted to hear. “I talked to your friend in the bathroom. Lady Walsh.” John groans, dragging his hand down his face. “Christ.” You wrap your arms around your waist at the sudden chill between you. John shrugs off his blazer and places it on your shoulders. The scent of it is overwhelming: musk and pine and man.

“She an’ I happened once, years ago. Been followin’ me like a hound ever since.” That makes you feel slightly better, but the conversation brought out a monster you didn’t want to face head-on. Your insecurities over this limbo of a marriage have been haunting you, and now they’ve taken the form of that woman in the bathroom. “You didn’t answer my question.” You murmur. John nudges your shoulder, moving closer when you don’t scoot away. “I didn’t want t’ pressure ya. Could eat ya out every night an’ be the happiest man on earth.” You bark out a laugh. He takes it as a sign to close the distance between you, tucking you under his arm. “What about the kids? The heirs?” You emphasize it with an eye roll. He snorts, pulling you closer. “Ever heard of artificial insemination? Surrogacy? A lot they can do these days.” He talks like he’s a hundred years old and not barely 38. “Why wasn’t that in the contract to begin with?” He’s quiet. “Not sure, actually.”

“I don’t think I want to do anything sexual for a while.” You eventually whisper. “‘S fine.” John replies. “I want to go to dinner.” You turn to him with a small smile on your face. “Ya want to go’on a date, baby?” You nod. He frowns in that way when he’s upset that he didn’t think of it first. A realization dawns on his face when he understands what you’re asking for. A new start, free from this societal gossip and pressure. John kisses your forehead gently. “Tha’ okay?” You nod like a lovesick teenager, giddy with the thought that he understands you so well. “Dance with me?” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it.

“Graves. Report?” The General is half-cloaked in the darkness of his office, eyes glinting through the shadows. “Comin’ along well, sir. Price has given himself a new weakness right when we needed one.” Shepherd hums in agreement. “Don’t fuck this up, Graves. You’re on your last strike.” Phil nods, backing out of the room. He will not mess this up. He can’t afford to.

yayyy gaz redeemed himself and we have a plot! i was lowkey getting worried. i hope nothing bad happens...

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806 notes · View notes

yousavorthis · 3 months ago

Text

wincest/weecest fic rec list!!

hungry til well fed // sharingflannels 25k words

"There's a shared desire between Sam and Dean that is buried deep beneath the surface. The need to consume and be consumed that goes without the other's knowledge until circumstances bring things into the light. Like any form of tension, something's gotta give sometime."

miles to go before I sleep // Trojie 7k words

"Maybe, if he'd grown up without a gun in his fucking waistband, he'd have kept it to … spanking, or something. Yeah. Sam wants to be spanked like a racecar driver wants a bicycle."

Bullet for my Valentine // merle_p 8k words

"Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone. Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly. But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if – As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe."

Guardian Ad Litem // fraukatzen 24k words

"Sam has always called Dean “daddy” when dad’s not around. Dean likes it a lot."

(for you and me) i got no alibi // remy (iamremy) 23k words

"There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants."

turn the other // thecapn 13k words

"Dean Winchester has hit his brother before. In anger. When he deserved it. With his righteous right hand closed into a furious fist, he has distributed what he believes to be justice. It is not just his duty to keep Sam corrected, collecting penance, it is his right. This isn’t that. --- We all have our breaking points."

I will mar myself again // theknife 2k words

""Tell me you're not doing it on purpose." Dean says. There's a tremor in his voice, and he trembles, with rage and with fear and with love, above all. Sam doesn't reply. (Or: After Sam's wall breaks, he starts getting hurt on cases. A lot.)"

Hands Away // objectlesson 13k words

"When you’re horny and alone with one person in one room for a long time and you’re sixteen and all you’ve ever been taught is to love your brother more than anything, it doesn’t seem like that far of a leap to start imagining what his mouth would feel like around your dick."

Daddy's Got You // deanbaby 4k words

"Sometimes Sam gets really needy, and the only thing that will settle him is a good, hard, deep dicking from his big brother. Luckily, Dean knows just how to take care of him. All hail Sampussy. No ages are explicitly given, I picture Sam late teens, Dean early twenties for this fic."

sink into me // poetictragedy 4k words

"Sam doesn't understand why Dean has to go out to get sex, when he’s got Sam. (Sammy's sixteen.)"

A Winter Dawn // RockSaltandCherryPie 11k words

"Sam (14) and Dean (18) enjoy winter at a cottage up north while John's on a hunt."

I ain't no lady, but you'd be the tramp // tehdirtiestsock (thatotherperv) 11k words

"a human Lady and the Tramp, with dog-like sex" AKA the original abo fic of all abo fics. yeah. *this is J2 but i thought it was worthy of being included.

Co-Sleeping // 69inthe67impala 5k words

"Sam ends up on the wrong side of a genderswap spell and Dean wants to make the most of it."

heaven is a place // candycanesandlollipops 2k words

"Sam sticks his tongue out, berry pink like the underside of something sweet and alive you’re not supposed to see, and it makes Dean think of pussy lips. Wet and slick. A pale purple circle with a smiley face stamped on it sits in the middle of all that pretty pink. Dean tilts his head up, just a little because he’s tall but his brother is taller, and licks the pill off Sam’s tongue."

7 Minutes // formalizing 4k words

"Sam was not wearing that outfit when Dean dropped him off at his friend’s Halloween party a few hours ago. If he’d been wearing that, Dean wouldn’t have let him out of the house, let alone out of the car and into a den full of horny teenagers drinking cheap beer and listening to the Backstreet Boys croon about romance."

Skirting the Issue // formalizing 2k words

""Should’a been a real nice weekend, y’know? Just the two of us—no hunt, no interruptions. Could’ve made the most of it, but you had to start up with that jealous girlfriend act of yours…" Sam hates every second he's not the sole focus of Dean's attention. Careful what you wish for."

Tap Out // formalizing 1k words

"Sam tries—really, he does. But Dean doesn't believe in pulling his punches, takes him to the ground sore and sweaty every time."

Harvest // formalizing 1k words

"He always did fall too deep in love with things that could destroy him—a fast car on an open road, cheap liquor burning all the way down, and the way his little brother says ‘please’. Sam is sweet fruit coming into season, and Dean has sticky fingers."

Fireworks // formalizing 1k words

"When Sam gets up the courage to ask his brother for kissing advice, he’s not sure what he expects–maybe a little laughter, a strange look, eventually, hopefully, some actual advice."

Pink-Pussy Dream Girl // formalizing 1k words

"Sam is first crush, first time, first love hopeless for his brother."

take everything i want you to (you're mine) // loveinourowngrave 6k words

"Feeling clean is important to Sam. Lucifer finds a way to take that away. Dean finds a way to fix it. (post Lucifer resurrecting Sam in Beat the Devil. Dean finds out, potentially in not a great way, exactly what happened between Sam and Lucifer)."

Fortunate Son // slutbee 17k words

"Dean doesn't understand why Sam is different, why he won't just do what Dad wants him to. If he did, then Dad wouldn't beat him all the time. Dean tries to help him conform, but everything changes when he finds Sam's journal, which lays out all his freaky desires."

Like Mirrors in the Distance // orphan_account 13k words

"Sam chuckled and let his chin rest against the top of her head. “It’s weird,” he said. “The kind of shit you can admit to strangers. We barely know each other, but I could never say this stuff to Dean.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “It’s because we’re strangers, Sam. When we leave, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.” “Yeah,” he said. “I dunno if that’s a comfort or a tragedy.” She rolled her eyes at him and looked back out over the town. “Both, probably,” she said."

Birds on a Wire // killabeez 14k words

"Set between "Hunted" and "Playthings." Dean's not sure when, exactly, everything started to change."

Carry Me Over the Sky // killabeez 10k words

"Follows 2x08, "Crossroad Blues." Dean's running on fumes, and Sam's the match."

The Palm Oasis // fictionallemons 12k words

"John strands Dean and Sam at a middle-of-nowhere motel while he investigates possible demon omens in Arizona. The place is nothing to write home about, but at least it has a pool. Dean resolves to think of this as a vacation for him and his studious little brother, but when their money runs out sooner than expected, he considers turning tricks at a nearby truck stop so he can feed Sam. Then a creepy guy from the pool makes an offer Dean doesn’t want to take but Sam won’t allow him to refuse—and the brothers edge over a line they’ve both been wanting to cross for a long time."

everything's warm when your heart grows cold // dollylux 1k words

"Sam comes home after a night out."

sure as the stars // dollylux 4k words

"Dean knew that letting Sam walk home from school alone was a bad idea."

Cry Little Sister // dollylux 2k words

"Sam wants Dean to play with him."

Know when to walk away and know when to run // deirdre_c 4k words

"Dean challenges Sam to a game of strip poker."

Mercy for you, none for myself // deirdre_c 2k words

"Dean enters the Panic Room at exactly the wrong time."

Bright Spark into a Flame // deirdre_c 4k words

"When Sam convinces him to camp out in front of the fireplace, Dean discovers that it's not so bad."

Between You and the Devil I Stand // deirdre_c 2k words

"If Sam can't fight anymore, Dean will fight for him."

and i know that the line is thin // according2thelore 15k words

"“It’s not working,” Dean sits down on the other end of the couch heavily with a whoosh, jostling Sam. Sam almost drops his book, and protests loudly. Dean turns to look at him. “We have to be gayer.” Sam barks a laugh, startled, but Dean’s expression doesn’t change. Sam sits up, putting his book down in his lap. “Gayer?” Sam tries to process Dean’s impassive expression. “Why don’t you tell me what you think that means?” Or: In order to catch a monster killing gay couples in Iowa, Sam and Dean have to dig deep and pull out the performance of a lifetime. Or...y'know. Not that deep. Written for WincestWednesdays July 2024 Event, Week One: "Performance"!"

Like the Real Thing // cianfrie 3k words

"With Dean, it’s always like this. A thousand years of waiting, then one minute to ruin everything. So Sam saves him the trouble. He looks straight ahead and murmurs, “Brady and I were together.” For a second, Dean’s foot lifts off the gas, and the car drifts slightly toward the center line. His arms go rigid, and the engine growls beneath them as he presses the pedal down again. He licks his lips slowly, then nods. “Okay,” he mutters, voice controlled and smooth."

Sams eyes were closed // Boys_just_wanna 1k words

"Two teenage brothers sharing a bed. What could go wrong?"

Matryoshka dolls // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 24k words

"The guy who dropped Dean off in the morning was in his late fifties, a mop of curly black hair and a boxy canvas jacket. Sam followed Dean through the motel room as he kicked off his boots and shucked his jacket. “Since… Dad. You’ve been—” “What, Sam? Since when do you give a shit about this stuff? I don’t go around holding up scorecards for all the chicks you’re not banging, you fuckin’ monk, you’d think the least you could do is—” “He looked like him, dude.”"

A shitty, earnest play starring someone else // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 25k words

"Sam could see himself letting his carefully-cultivated life go totally off the rails at Dean's sudden appearance: skip lectures, bail on friends, hole up with him in his stuffy little dorm room and fuck each other's brains out like they were in the pay-by-the-hour motels of their youth, waste his hard-earned money on greasy takeout and hunt some motherfucking ghosts, all while being hopelessly, unapologetically in love, the way he was before he had anything else to think about."

Acid // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 15k words

"Sam said, "You know I wish you just wanted to fuck me? That would be easy, they've got words for that kind of messed up." That just made Dean's pits sweat. He felt like Wile E. Coyote running into a tunnel painted onto a mountain face, little birds circling around his head. "Uh." "What do you know about Jeffrey Dahmer?" He'd been having a good day."

Yesterday, minnesota // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 29k words

"Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope."

I have to live here // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 30k words

"“Have you been doing laundry? Where are all my boxers?” Dean kept walking right into this stuff. Sam weighed his options and spoke carefully. “Half your boxers are in the second drawer of my dresser. You didn’t like going to get clean underwear, in the morning, so you made me clear out a drawer for you.” He paused. “I’ve got a drawer in your room, too.” Dean looked physically pained. “That… can’t be true.” Sam sighed and went back to his book. “I know you don’t remember, but we had a lot of sex. You’re gonna have to trust me.”"

Worthless cartography // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 15k words

"Dean didn’t know what finally made him go for it. The djinn’s dream was a catalyst, but the call was coming from inside the house, and he’d been letting it ring for a very, very long time. (They get one night together right before Sam is taken to Cold Oak. Dean has to deal with that.)"

Snooping and breaking things // Goshen (applecrumbledore) 18k words

"Dean kept looking at his ring on Sam’s finger, which was also his finger. To see the ring anywhere but his own hand seemed wrong, and seeing it on Sam’s hand specifically was… intimate. He couldn’t think of another word for it. Not more intimate than inhabiting Sam’s body, but it was close."

salt skin // Trojie 7k words

"It's about permission. Or it's about pain. Or it's about something else entirely, Dean doesn't fucking know. All he knows is, he doesn't have enough trust left in him to just leave any part of Sam in Cas's care."

snuff // chinablue 4k words

"There's nothing good on TV, and Sam's contemplating killing his father again."

Under Sufferance // veronamay 4k words

"From this prompt on blindfold_spn: Sam/Dean, touch-starvation. Besides other things, Lucifer touch-starves Sam in Hell as punishment (Sam did fall in the Pit with his entire body and all...). Once out, Sam cannot bring himself to ask Dean despite how badly he needs it. Dean needs to realize what Sam's problem is, and how to get himself to help, since constant touching doesn't exactly come naturally to him. Set between seasons 5 and 6."

#wincest #weecest #gencest #weirdcest #deansam #samdean #fic rec #wincest fic rec #fic recs #PLURAL #some of my favs #not complete but a good start #will add more as they come

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inosukijiro · 3 months ago

Text

✮⋆˙ cuddles with dean

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ dean learns to be a little selfish.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ deans my cutie little lovebug and i just want him to sleep peacefully this is my dream and i definitely got carried away writing this (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) okay bye

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff with angst(?). cuddles. mentions of deans time in hell, and his low self-esteem. dean-centric. gender-neutral reader. modern reader in spn. isn’t really season specific, but set anytime after season 4. probably ooc (again). i may have rushed at the end, sorry. 2.68k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It takes Dean a long time before he ever allows himself to be put in this position — vulnerable, open, seen. It’s not something he does. It’s not something he can do, or at least, not that easily. His life has never really been about him. Every good thing he’d ever done, every ounce of effort or care, it’s always been for someone else: Sam, Dad, the job. He’d never done anything for himself that didn’t somehow bleed into someone else. And even then, it never felt like enough.

Sam is his little brother, his responsibility. He raised him, he bled for him, he died for him. Dean had went to Hell with Sam’s name carved into every broken piece of him. Most people wouldn’t do that. But Dean Winchester isn’t most people. He’s his father's little soldier, the good son, the obedient one. There was never room for anything else. Never any space to figure out who he was outside of someone else's shadow. He didn’t belong to himself. Not when he was Sam’s guard dog. Not when he was John’s perfectly crafted weapon.

Dean hates himself — that much is obvious. He doesn’t need to say it out loud because he’s pretty sure that everyone already has that figured out, even if he wants to pretend that it isn’t true. It shows in the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he tears himself down before anyone else can get the chance to. He calls himself selfish, even though everything he’s ever done has been for the sake of everyone else. But he doesn’t see it that way. Dean never has. To him, sacrificing everything he is was just the bare minimum. That’s what he should do. Because what is he, if not useful? What is he, if not needed?

He’s so used to standing alone, to being the last line between the people he loves and the things that want to tear them apart. He'd rather it be him than anyone else — because somewhere along the way, he decided that his life just doesn't hold the same worth. Not like Sam's. Not like yours. And he hates that it hurts, but he also hates that he even thinks about wanting anything at all. Because wanting is selfish. Needing is selfish. And comfort? That’s not something Dean thinks he’d ever be allowed.

He’s touch-starved. He’s touch-starved in a way that's ingrained deep within his bones, but he’s convinced himself that this is just how it’s supposed to be. That he doesn’t get softness. Doesn’t get warmth. Doesn’t get to be held, or healed, or cared for. And if he ever lets himself want it — if he ever lets someone close enough to see how tired he is — then what does that make him? Weak? Needy?

Yeah, it takes Dean a long while to let himself be put in this position — in your arms, safe, and loved, and for him to think that maybe he does deserve it. Even if he hasn’t earned it the way he thinks he’s supposed to. When it's so clear that all you want is to give it to him, no strings attached. It’s like coaxing a wild animal – careful, patient, and slow. You never corner Dean with affection, never overwhelm him with your gentle nature he doesn��t think he’s allowed to want. You just exist in his space, solid and steady, a quiet kind of constant that doesn’t ask for anything in return. And maybe that’s what gets to him most, that you don’t expect him to earn your kindness. You’re just there. And over time, that simple act starts to chip away at something inside him, something he didn’t even realize was still breakable.

It started with the smallest things. Your fingers brushing against his whenever you pass him something. The way you rest your hand on his arm when patching him up. They’re nothing, really — just harmless touches that you probably don’t even think about twice. But Dean does. He thinks about them more than he should. At first, he tells himself it's because he's not used to it. But the truth is, he misses it when it's gone. And that terrifies him. Because wanting something for himself? That’s not in the job description. That’s not who he’s supposed to be.

So when you get together and the cuddling starts, it’s always him as the big spoon. Of course it is. That’s who Dean is — the protector, the shield. He doesn’t let himself be held, not yet. He keeps watch even in the deepest of sleeps and in the darkest of nights, as if danger might strike at any moment. But your warmth seeps into him, like sunlight soaking into skin long starved of it. Dean’s drawn to you in a way that he hasn’t been drawn to anyone or anything before. His hand drifts to your chest, his breath soft and calm against your shoulder. It’s never deliberate, not at first, but over time it happens more often — these small, tender trespasses into comfort. And soon one day, without thinking, he simply lets himself fold right into you.

Dean revels in it more than he’ll ever admit. The way he fits so nice and easily in your arms — like he was always meant to be there. His head rests just above your heart, breathing synced with yours in the kind of rhythm that makes the world feel quiet for once. He's tucked into you so firm, your arms wrapping around him to secure him to you. As if in that moment, if something were to come through those motel doors, they would have to pry Dean from your cold dead hands. Because right now, he’s hidden from the world by the comforter that lays gingerly over him. It comes right up to his head, only his hair is visible to anyone that dare to even check. The only person that can truly see him is you.

And Dean loves the little things that you do. Like how your fingers will trace shapes into the back of his neck, absent-minded and soft, like you’re painting calmness directly into his skin. Sometimes he wonders if you're drawing sigils or love notes, or just letting your touch wander. He doesn’t care what it is, though, just to be clear. He doesn’t care what you do. It leaves him feeling weightless, like his body is finally remembering what it feels like to be safe. That sensation, those tingles running down his spine, are enough to anchor him in the moment. And when everything else in his life has been chaos and guilt, and war — your touch is the one thing that doesn’t ask anything of him.

Which reminds him why he loves your hands. The way they move with such care, so soft it nearly breaks him into pieces. They’re nothing like his own — scarred, calloused, blood-soaked and burned by the weight of a world he never had a choice in. Your hands don’t carry the same kind of grief. They don’t know what it’s like to be dragged through Hell, to scream for years that don’t exist in time, to become the thing he swore he’d never be. He still remembers every second of it, every moment he was the one on the rack — the one being tortured, and worse, becoming the torturer. And somehow, your hands still touch him like he’s someone worth such devotion.

That’s what gets to him the most. Your hands are from a place far far away, untouched by the things that plague his. There are no hunts or horrors quite like this life. And it’s that contrast that makes his mind wander. Because how could someone like you, with your soft hands and open heart, want someone like him? Someone who hates himself, who always puts others before himself and still believes he’s selfish for wanting anything in return. But even with all of that, even with everything screaming that he shouldn’t take it, he does.

And you don’t mind. It surprises Dean the most how you completely and effortlessly don’t mind. He keeps waiting for the catch sometimes, for the moment when you pull away or start to expect something in return. But it never comes. Not with you. You let him hold on as tightly as he needs to, let him drape his weight across you like he’s something heavy and fragile all at once. His strong arms lock around your waist, pressing you close like he’s afraid of being pulled away. And even when his body sinks into yours like a living blanket — too warm, too much — you never pull away. If anything, you melt right into him, and he basks in that. In you.

You’d never complain. Dean doesn’t know if anything he does actually bothers you — nothing ever seems to — but that doesn’t stop him from overthinking. He worries about taking too much, about letting himself get too comfortable in a role he was never allowed to want. He questions if he’s too heavy, if he’s clinging too tightly, if maybe it’s selfish to crave softness when his whole life has been about giving it away. Sometimes, all it takes is a subtle shift from you, a stretch or a sigh, and his brain darkens with guilt. He’ll apologize under his breath, pulling back just slightly, ready to undo the comfort he let himself believe he could have. But you notice — of course you notice — and you meet it with tenderness, never rejection.

You resettle without hesitation, like you want him there, and he almost can’t handle how gently you handle him. You stroke the back of his neck with featherlight fingers, your arms curling around his broad frame as if you’re telling him to stay — that he’s safe. You press soft kisses to the crown of his head, murmuring reassurances in a voice that wraps around his heart like a warm blanket. It undoes him. Every single time.

You might shift again, though this time it's much more gentle and slow, but Dean will barely register it. He’s just barely treading the line of that quiet space between sleep and wakefulness, just conscious enough to feel the warmth of you wrapped around him. And suddenly, a low, involuntary sound escapes him — so low that Sam who’s been long asleep couldn’t hear. It’s soft, almost like a whine, and you’re pretty sure if he were awake enough to notice, he’d probably deny it ever happened. But you do hear it, and it pulls a quiet laugh from your throat; a breathy sound laced with fondness and it tickles at Dean's brain. Though a sleepy pout tugs at your lips, even as you smile, and you lean in close to whisper a little teasing, “What’s wrong, hm?” but you already know. You know exactly what he wants, what he needs, because you’ve come to understand him in ways no one else ever has.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, still a little damp from the shower — the strands soft like clouds and a few curl slightly at the ends. Your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, in slow and soothing consistent movements, while your other hand rests along his back; drawing slow, tender circles that feel like medicine to his aching and tension-filled body. You coo something nice, something sweet that melts into the space between you. It makes his mind go fuzzy and causes him to drift deeper. You don’t care that he’s heavy, or clingy, or quiet — you just want him to feel good. To be cared for, completely and unconditionally. And in this moment, that’s exactly what he lets you do. He doesn’t fight it. He can’t.

Your kisses are the softest sound he’s ever heard. Little clicks as your lips part from his skin, quiet and sweet and endlessly patient. Every single one makes him burrow closer, hiding his face like he could melt straight into you. He’s not embarrassed, not really — that wouldn’t be the correct word anyway — but his cheeks are warm, and he knows you’re amused by the way your chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. It makes him press in deeper, his face tucked away and eyelashes fluttering against your skin like a shy confession. And you take that as permission, because of course you do; pressing slow kisses across his cheeks, along his brow, the curve of his nose — anywhere your mouth can reach really and Dean just lets you. He can’t quite reach your lips from the angle he’s trapped himself into, he knows that, but he still tries to return the affection anyway. He’ll drowsily nudge kisses against your collarbone, or your shoulder, or anything he can manage.

And you call him such sweet things while you do it. They’re soft pet names that make him ache. Honey. Sweetheart. Words that never felt like they belonged to him before, but somehow, coming from you, feel like they do. He doesn’t know why you calling him sweetie makes his chest tight in a way that isn’t derived from panic or just something bad — but it does. But it’s also the way you say his name that gets him the most. The way it rolls off your tongue, syrupy and lovely, like something precious. You make his name sound beautiful. And Dean doesn’t know how you do it, how you take a name he’s only ever heard barked in anger or strained with urgency and turn it into something tender.

Your hand leaves his back for a moment and he misses the weight of it instantly — until he feels the soft brush of your fingers along his jaw. He sucks in a breath as you trace the edge of it with the back of your knuckle before cupping his cheek, stroking it with the pad of your thumb like he’s something delicate. He leans into it without meaning to, something quiet and needy pulling him into the warmth of your palm. You’re having fun with it, doting on him like he’s your favorite thing — and yeah, he is. He feels it in the way you touch him, in the way you look at him like he’s soft and worth loving. Dean’s never been cherished like this, not even close — and it makes him feel dizzy, overwhelmed in the best way possible. Dizzy and safe. Always safe, always with you.

It melts his heart and terrifies him at the same time. The way you treat him with so much care, so much softness, like he’s something worth keeping. And as much as he craves it, as deeply as his wretched soul aches for it, he still doesn’t believe he’ll ever actually deserve it. He tells himself he should pull away in the last conscious moments he has — but he doesn’t. He won’t. Because he let this happen. He let you in. Let the warmth of your love root itself in him until it was too deep to tear out without causing pain. Until not leaning into it hurt way worse than anything else.

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up here, wrapped up in arms that want nothing from him except for him to exist, but he gave up trying to make sense of it a long time ago. He can’t seem to make himself care about the why, though, not when you don’t seem to either. And maybe that does make him selfish because he’s finally allowing himself to be. Sure, maybe there’s a whisper of guilt that still creeps into the corners of his mind, but you always chase it out with a kiss, or a soft word, or a tender look. And in these quiet, sacred moments, where his mind is just full of thoughts of you — he can’t think of Hell. He can’t think of all the horrors and pain and suffering. Just you. Sweet and gentle, and wonderful you. And somewhere in the deep dark of the night, Dean wonders why he was so against being selfish sooner.

𖤐 .ᐟ dean winchester hit me up, im always available just lmk (๑>؂•̀๑)

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn #no use of y/n #no y/n #reader insert #modern!reader #supernatural x y/n #dean winchester fic

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lxvvie · 4 months ago

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Heyyy girliee

I don’t know if you have already done that but I really love your writings and I was thinking about how would the cod guys act like if they were drunk?

For example I can totally see Graves forgetting that we are dating and just trying to get our numbers or Soap having a mental breakdown over everything lmaoo

The Cap'n is mushy. Defenses down. Grinning like he won the jackpot. Quokka cheeks red and prominent. He can't take his eyes off you. He's John Price the man, and John Price the man wants you to know that you're beautiful and the best thing that's ever happened to him. You let him be human for just a moment. You let him forget about the bullshit he faces on a daily.

A drunken Gaz is a sleepy Gaz, and drunk Gaz is tied with drunk Ghost in the clingly koala department. Drunk Gaz can't really sleep without you in his arms, darling, and so when you're in the bed, he's holding you like his life depends on it, your face is buried in his glorious chest, and he'll kiss the top of your head and sleepily murmur how much he loves you, darling. Also tends to think the house is haunted for some reason, so he's holding on to you to protect you? Thanks, Kyle...

Drunk Soap is the mad lad who excitedly tells everyone you said yes to going on a date with him even though you two have been together for a minute. May or may not have started a fight brawl or two with another bar patron for drunkenly hitting on you; the one who'll also take you away snickering while everyone else is still fighting because lmao. Drunk Soap goes to sleep thinking you're in his arms but it's always the dog who’s snoring in his face.

Drunk Ghost is in love with you. Pathetically in love with you. Down bad. So mushy it's disgusting. And cute. Disgustingly cute. Lets his guard down like the Cap'n, and all you see in those dark eyes is you. Everything comes out and it's all YOU. Ghost lets you have your way with him. Cover him in art, sure thing, luv. Color his tattoos in? Why the fuck not? Raspberries on his tummy? What's stopping you, sweetheart? Just... consumed by you, all with a chuckle, a ciggie dangling from his mouth, and you in his arms. He revels in the fact that you love him as much as he loves you. Tells you such in so many words, too. Ghost just fuckin' GLOWS, okay?

Phillip Graves is drunkenly serenading you and telling you all these plans he has about y'all's future together. From the bathroom. While pissing the longest piss known to man. The one who'll also croon 'Darlin'....' and kiss your cheeks a lot because it just does something to him. Just so damn affectionate. He can sing like no one's business, too. He loves to croon Marvin Gaye, Barry White, or the Isley Brothers in your ear. All with that goddamn southern twang. 'Cause he loves his darlin' so MUCH.

König is cackling like the gremlin crackhead he is and you're wondering if he'll ever realize that he's actually hugging and loving on the bedpost and not you. In true troll fashion, though, you record the whole thing and show it to him later, to his mortification. Drunk König also likes to be the little spoon.

When drunk, Horangi gets hot really quickly, and will take his clothes off. ALL his clothes off. And then he's all over you like a cat. He really likes it when you run your hands over his body, though. Goes double if your hands are cold.

Keegan is just fucking needy. Don't leave him, baby. What do you mean you gotta go to the bathroom? What do you mean you need to get a refill? The one who's out getting drunk with the other Ghosts, and he's texting you how much he loves you, how much he needs you, and then proceeds to reveal to you so many things about him, so many things that he thinks would make you leave him, but the things he reveal aren't even secretive or horrible at all (yeah, sure, of course you'd leave him because he and his friends wore the cheerleaders' outfits and he was on top of the pyramid while said cheerleaders played flag football in highschool during homecoming) so what the fuck, Keegan?

Adler is also a sleepy drunk. A sleepy, snoring drunk. A sleepy, snoring drunk who loves to sleep under your plushy throw blanket that he talks shit about when sober because your scent is on it and it helps him de-stress.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months ago

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The Safest Place

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: John has to tell you (4) about monsters, and you don’t take it well

Warnings: none, it’s short and sweet

“And that’s what me and Sammy and Dean do. And that’s why we move around all the time, and why you can’t go to work with me, and…” John swallowed. “Kiddo that’s why you don’t have a mom. Demons took her.”

Dean couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to listen. He’d wanted to keep you from the truth for so much longer, but you were so much more nosy than Sam had been. You went through John’s journal and asked about all the monster pictures you saw in it, you asked John countless questions about the guns and the newspaper clippings and…and everything. But it was more than that—you were also clingy. Clingy to the point where you’d sneak out and try to follow either John or your brothers when they went out to hunt monsters. After a close call with a vampire where you snuck into the Impala then almost got yourself killed, John decided that enough was enough. You wouldn’t last long in this life unless you had a healthy fear of the supernatural. So that’s what John had to give you.

“What if demons take you?” Your quiet whimper finally had Dean looking up. You were shaking, blinking up at your dad as if waiting for him to say that it was all a joke and monsters weren’t real.

“The demons aren’t gonna take me,” John promised. “That’s why we hunt. So they can’t take anybody else.”

You didn’t respond, so John reached down and picked you up, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

…

John fell asleep quickly, but Dean could hear you tossing and turning even as he struggled to settle down himself. He was always the last to fall asleep, and having to share a bed with Sam since there was no pullout couch wasn’t helping.

Because of his insomnia, Dean was the first to hear your feet padding on the motel carpet as you slipped off John’s bed and tiptoed your way over to Dean’s.

“De?” Dean could tell you were crying from just the one syllable. “De, I need help.”

Dean rolled over to see you standing at the edge of his bed, your arms stretched out for him. Dean pulled you up onto the bed without comment, and once his arms were around you you refused to let him go.

“I don’t want the demons to get me, De,” you sniffled.

“Hey—“ Dean tightened his arms around you. “—I’m not gonna let any demons get you, ok?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sam whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Demons are scary, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“Oh honey…” Sam disentangled you from Dean’s arms and cradled you in his lap.

“How do I fight demons?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I don’t ever want you thinking about it. Me and Sammy and Dad are gonna get those demons, ok? Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, and you wanna know what the safest place is?” Sam asked. You nodded firmly. “It’s right about…” Sam laid back down, and Dean followed his lead. “Here.” Sam positioned you in between himself and Dean, tucking you under the covers and keeping one arm over you. You latched onto his arm, your tiny hands wrapping around his fingers.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dean promised. “Me and Sammy and Dad won’t let them.”

You reached your hand out for Dean, and he responded by putting his arm over Sam’s, so you had both of your brother’s arms protecting you.

You were asleep in minutes.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #john winchester x daughter #john winchester x reader #john winchester spn #john winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

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thanksbutno98 · 4 months ago

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Stranger

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price finally puts an end to his wife being stalked.

Warnings: Sexual themes, violence, blood, murder, death, stalking, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of child endangerment, torture, mentions of war, kidnapping, PTSD, anxiety attack, not edited.

——————

“Jj, stop teasing your sister.”

“But mum-“ Jj had a cheeky smile on his face before he was interrupted.

“Oi, enough!” John voice barked from down the hall as he walked toward the kitchen.

Tonight was a good night with your family. You had finished up dessert which was an ice cream sundae feast. The kids were over the moon when you and John broke out all the toppings you bought as a surprise from the shop. You felt your heart swell watching John set up everything with a huge grin across his face. In the aftermath there was chocolate syrup, caramel sauce, marshmallows, and rainbow sprinkles all over the kitchen island that you were now cleaning up.

“Daddy!” Lily exclaimed and ran to John as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on you in his white t-shirt and a pair of your leggings.

His four year old was already in her pajamas and her hair damp from her bath. She wore pastel green pants with Grogu from the Mandalorian on them, and a white t-shirt with the same character. Lily ran straight into John’s leg and clung to him. A loud crack of thunder made your house shake as the heavy rain continued to beat down.

“Daddy you have to save me.” Tugging on John’s sweat pants he had to grip the waistband so Lily didn’t drag them down.

“Save you?” John asked before picking her up and then being clung to in a vice grip.

“Ow! Lily, go easy.” John hissed as Lily’s finger nails dug into the exposed skin of his bicep while the other tugged on his beard.

“Yeah or the forest will swallow her up!” Jj jumped off his chair as he shouted his teasing words at Lily. This made Lily whimper into John’s chest, her fingers tugging harder at John’s facial hair.

“Hey, I said stop it.” You scolded Jj who didn’t seem to take you seriously and continued to make scary faces, eerie noises, and wiggle his finger at Lily.

“Daddy.” Lily whined into John’s neck, one sapphire eye visible as she stared at her big brother.

“Stop trying to scare your sister. Her shadow does enough of that.” John’s joke had you lightly chuckling along with him.

He wasn’t wrong there. It didn’t take much to scare Lily and she did once scream and try to out run her shadow, not knowing what it was. She tripped and fell in her mad dash which only made things worse that day.

“Can I sleep with you and mummy?” Lily whispered to John so you couldn’t hear.

You and John tended to ping pong back and forth on who was a big softy. Lately John had been giving in to all the small requests and spoiling your children. Whereas you were setting limits because you thought they were getting out of control at times. Jj especially, for some reason he’d been teasing both his sisters to tears recently.

“I’ll have to ask your mum. . . but yes.” John whispered the last part. Lily giggled and gave him a kiss to the cheek while snuggling closer.

“Why’s there a man in the yard?” Evelyn asked.

She was standing by the backdoor and staring out into your pitch black backyard. With squinted crystal blue eyes she tilted her head to the side and then leaned forward to get a better look. Lily tensed up at her sister’s words and looked at John with wide eyes and a big frown.

“What did your mum just say?” John asked expectantly, one thick eyebrow quirked.

“But-“ Evelyn pointed, not taking her eyes off the yard.

“Stop trying to scare your sister. Bed, now.” John cut off Evelyn not giving her a chance to continue.

“But-“

“Evie, bed.” You jumped in a lot sweeter.

“Stop being fuckin’ stupid Evie, you’re gonna get us grounded.” Jj playfully jabbed. You gasped at the language and so did Lily.

“Stupids a bad word!” Lily looked at a John in shock. He couldn’t even address Jj’s language and burst out into a loud belly laugh.

“Watch the language.” You chuckled and Jj nodded with a cheeky eye roll.

Walking over to your oldest daughter you lightly guided her by the shoulders to head upstairs. With a kiss to the top of the head Evelyn followed her father and siblings as he brought them upstairs to tuck them in.

You went back to putting the dishes away and sipping on the glass of wine John poured you. It wasn’t common that you had wine during the week, it was more of a special occasion thing. But you had a feeling John was trying to get lucky tonight and he was bettering his chances by getting you liquored up.

Taking a sip you watched as your tri-colored border collie, Molly, slowly walked to the back door. She took her paw and lightly scratched at the glass for you to let her out. The look she cast in your direction was somehow filled with attitude that you were taking too long. With a big smile you walked over and unlocked the door. You grabbed a towel off the shoe rack to wipe Molly off when she came back in but you noticed the rain had stopped. Before opening the door you flicked on the patio light and went to let her out. Looking up into the yard you let out a blood curdling scream.

Just like Evelyn had said, there was a man standing in your yard.

You couldn’t make out any defining details only that he was large, maybe bigger than John in stature. He was a shadowy figure standing about fifty yards from the tree line but still a good distance from your home. Your scream didn’t seem to scare him off but instead you watched as he began to slowly walk toward your home. Molly began barking like crazy and jumping on the back door for you to let her out and chase this man off.

“Darling!?” John could be heard racing down the stairs.

You caught sight of him running down the hall in the reflection of the glass backdoor. Shifting your focus you realized that the man in the yard must have seen John too because he was now running full sprint toward the forest.

John realized what was happening in seconds. He saw a figure darting into the woods and he was already springing into action. It had to be the years in the military that had made him so observant. It was why he spotted the man in seconds and picked up on the sinister feeling hanging in the air. It was the same unsettling ambience that filled war zones, compounds he was infiltrating, or the stiff air of a morgue.

“Stay right there and watch.” John ordered you before locking the door and then dashing into the basement.

In this moment you weren’t his wife needing protection, you were an extension of himself that needed to help protect. Your children were upstairs and it would take an army to get to them. John instinctively knew whoever was out there had to get through him and you; and you were a lot more scrappy than you appeared. John knew you’d move mountains for your children, that their safety was your number one priority much like him.

You didn’t respond, fear paralyzed you in this moment, but you did as you were told. Keeping your eyes on the man you watched as he faded into the darkness of the woods and stopped. The glow of your patio flood light stretched far enough it created long shadows that stretched across your property but didn’t reach the woods. His figure was like watching a tea bag bleed into water, you could make out distinct shapes until it all faded together. You could just make the man out; his figure was darker than the tree line. He was now standing just on the edge of the woods, staring directly at you and in seconds he faded together with the blackened shadows of the forest.

“Why’d you stop running?” You whispered and stepped closer to the glass.

Your breath was shallow and eyes squinted as you tried to focus on where you last saw the man. It didn’t make sense to you why he started for the house when it was you but then ran a moment later. Molly had stopped barking but was aggressively growling in the same direction you had your gaze fixed on.

“Oh. You can’t see John.” The words came out in a shaky whisper, your breath making the glass fog, obscuring the figure staring back at you.

That’s when you saw your husband. John was back by your side with his gun in hand. You realized he had also slipped on a camouflage rain coat, his tactical boots, and boonie hat. As soon as you saw John you realized the blackened shape you’d been staring at was gone.

“He went straight ahead.” Pointing off to show where you saw the man disappear to, John was soon sprinting in the same direction.

You hadn’t even realized he unlocked the backdoor until you saw the back of John and heard his boots stomp against the stone of your patio. Molly was right behind John which surprised you. She normally moved slow but she was sprinting with John and slowly outrunning him. She knew exactly where she was going and it made you wonder if she picked up on the unknown scent. The sound of Mollys bark snapped you out of your trance and you quickly shut the back door and locked it.

You then turned and ran upstairs for your children. There was no guarantee this man was alone and your worst fear would be for someone else to try breaking in while John was off chasing the accomplices. The first room you went to was your sons. Jj was sitting up in bed reading his book and snapped it shut when you burst through the door.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go to bed.” Jj immediately apologized not thinking he’d get caught staying up to read.

“Get Evelyn up and go to my bathroom. Don’t turn on any lights.” The urgency in your voice would scare most children but it didn’t have that effect on Jj.

The protocol was to bring the kids to the basement but you weren’t sure if someone was able to get in without you knowing. You were scared, petrified something was going to happen and you were the last line of defense to keep your children safe. This fear kept you from doing what you and John practiced.

It was like a switch flipped in Jj’s head as he slipped on his slippers and ran to Evelyn’s room. You were then in Lily’s bedroom and grabbed her. She was lying on her back talking to her stuffed animals and holding her penguin stuffy over her head. Any other night you’d watch her lovingly from the door and admire how cute Lily was.

“Mummy!” Lily gasped as she was snatched out of bed.

“Shhh. We’re playing hide and seek with daddy and we have to be very quiet.” You whispered to your daughter who seemingly believed you.

“Fun.” She giggled and kicked her feet as you ran to your room.

Locking the bedroom door behind you, you grabbed the blanket off the foot of your bed and then dashed into the bathroom. Evelyn and Jj were sitting in the bathtub which was exactly where you were going to tell them to sit. You took Lily and placed her in Jj’s lap. There was a silent understanding between you two that he was to look after his sisters.

“Stay quiet.” You smiled reassuringly to your little girls.

“Daddy will never find us.” Lily giggled.

“Perfect spot for hide and seek.” This was your attempt to get your kids on board with the lie you told Lily.

Giving each child a kiss to the tops of their heads you took the large plush blanket and made sure they were all covered up to stay warm. You pulled the curtain back to conceal where they were and rolled into your next move.

Making your way back into your bedroom you grabbed the skeleton key and locked the door. You wee locking your babies in the bathroom to keep them safe, god forbid something happened to you. Your next step was to grab the serrated Bowie knife John hid in the false bottom of his nightstand. It felt clinical how you moved. The underlying fear seemed to fade into the background as you did everything John had coached you to do.

Grabbing your cell phone you called the police first and then your father second. You placed one final call just in case John needed help in a different kind of way than the police could offer. The phone rang twice before the person answered clearly out of breath.

“Indy, kinda late-“

“Soap! I know you’re dating that girl- ugh- uh- what’s her name- uh- maybe if you didn’t sleep with so many of my friends I’d remember! The one with kids. Are you at her place?” You yelled and babbled out.

You could hear sheets rustling and a female voice asking something faintly in the background. The voice grew louder and more agitated but you didn’t care at the moment. Soap had been dating one of the moms at Lily’s daycare and she happened to live near by. You were praying he was at her place for the night.

“Yeah, everything alright? I’m kinda in the middle of s-”

“Some creep was standing outside the house and John chased him into the woods. I don’t know if he needs help-“ You were babbling again and hadn’t noticed you were crying.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Soap could be heard shuffling around quickly and you assumed he was getting dressed.

“Thank you! Flash your headlights so I know it’s you.”

“On my way.”

Those five minutes felt like an eternity. But soon enough you saw headlights pulling up your driveway and then they flashed four times. Seeing that it was Soap you slid the knife into the holster you had secured to the back of the waist band of your leggings. You left your bedroom and locked the door behind you. Jogging downstairs you met Soap on your patio.

Soap looked disheveled. His hair was sticking up in odd direction and he was flushed. You were use to seeing Soap in jeans but tonight he wore grey joggers that left nothing to the imagination. His grey crewneck had a lipstick smudge by the collar and what you assumed was red wine dribbled down the front. The only thing that made him look ready to help was the pistol in his hand and scuffed military boots.

“John took off that way with his gun, Molly followed too.” You pointed into the woods where John had ran off to.

“Alright, hold on to this.” Soap smacked a walkie talkie into your hand and the gun he was holding in the other.

You physically reacted to now holding a gun and held it as far away from you as you could manage. It looked like it grossed you out the way your face twisted in disgust. Soaps eyebrows scrunched together and he looked at the gun that you were acting like it was a dead animal he handed you.

“Don’t be scared of it. Just point and pull the trigger.” Soap took off running in the direction of your husband after he was done speaking.

You watched as he pulled out another gun from the back of his waist band and you wondered how many guns the members of 141 had hidden just in case they needed them. You knew John’s arsenal and were constantly on his case to get rid of some.

Before Soap even reached half way across the yard John was walking out of the woods with Molly following close behind. You couldn’t make out if he was okay from this distance but you noticed he was alone. Part of you thought he’d be dragging someone by the hair out of the woods or that he’d be covered in blood with a dead body slung over his shoulder.

“You get your hands on him Cap?” Soap called. He stopped halfway into your yard and waited for John to join him in walking back to your home.

You watched from the lit patio as the two conversed quietly. It made you wonder what information John was passing along. The two continued to quietly converse as they walked back over to you.

“Slippery fucker.” John cursed, his frustration evident.

“How’d he get away?” You heard Soap ask as you impatiently waited on the patio.

The night air bit at your exposed skin, making you shiver. Your bare feet were tingling against the cold stone. There was a pebble sticking to the bottom of one of your feet and uncomfortably pressing into your skin. Standing on one foot you picked it off with the hand holding the walkie talkie. You didn’t notice how by keeping your balance you were waving around your other hand.

“Woah, easy there. Don’t need you putting a hole in either of us.” John had both hands on you, one on your wrist and the other taking the gun from your hand. After you were disarmed John answered Soaps question.

“His car was parked on some trail deep in the woods. He took off before I could grab him. Molly took a bite out of him though.” Handing the gun back to Soap John cast another unimpressed look at you for your lack of gun safety. Soap knelt down and slipped the gun into a holster around his ankle.

“Really? Good girl.” You squatted down and gave Molly some much deserved scratches. You ignored John’s look, he knew your distain for guns. You checked Molly’s teeth and mouth to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“I’ll be picking her up a steak tomorrow.” John patted her on the head and then she finally walked off to go pee like she originally had to.

“You broken?” You stopped John from walking by you and lightly took him by the shoulders. You used his phrase to hopefully dampen the tension. Looking him over you saw he was a bit muddy but not a scratch on him.

“Far from broken, darling.” You loved hearing those words and you swooned even harder when John placed a firm kiss to your forehead. Warping a strong arm around your waist John lead you inside and motioned for Soap to follow.

The three of you went inside and you went to grab your children. John told you he’d put a kettle on while you got everything back in order; including yourself. Somehow you managed to shove the fear crackling through your bones down and be the mother your children needed. You had them all back in bed easily and Jj was the only one to ask questions. He came to the conclusion that this was practice in case something bad ever happened. Just like the time you practiced what he and his sisters needed to do if there was ever a fire.

Once downstairs you could hear Soap and John talking. Your nerves were beginning to fray. Keeping it together for this long felt unnatural. You felt like a robot getting your kids back to bed. Cuddling Evelyn as she babbled about wanting to go to the park tomorrow, organizing Lily’s stuffed animals on the bed in your room to sleep with you, and telling Jj everything was alright; it was like an out of body experience. It was auto pilot to get them all settled and now finally you were coming back to your senses.

“Yeah, Indy called while I was mid thrust. Should’ve seen Saoirse’s face when I picked up the ph-“

“Charming.” You scrunched your nose at Soaps crass remark.

You weren’t one for dirty banter unless it was with John. It sounded like locker room talk to you which you disapproved of. You didn’t think John would normally entertain that kind of talk but Soap seemed comfortable talking like that.

“Sorry. Didn’t see you there.” Soap laughed awkwardly. You were giving him a disapproving look which had him feeling like a naughty school boy.

“That how you talk about me?” You asked John who snorted at the idea.

“Oh, I go into much more detail.” His joke wasn’t funny to you and he put his hands up in defense before you gave him a tongue lashing.

“I’m only joking.” John added.

“The kids are back in bed.” You changed the subject before you started questioning your husband.

You grabbed the cup of tea John prepared for you. The mug lightly swayed in your shaky hands as you brought the warm liquid to your mouth.

“You alright?” Soap asked. He was staring at you with concern and that was when you noticed John also looked worried.

“Not really. That was fucking scary.” As you spoke you noticed how your words were in a higher register and you stuttered slightly.

John was by your side now, one large hand lightly stroking your back. His other hand came up and pushed your hair out of your face and behind your ear. Leaning in he whispered in your ear that he loved you and you had nothing to worry about.

“Did you get a good look at him?” John asked once he pulled away.

“No. What’s weird is he started walking toward the house until he saw you. He ran but stopped at the edge of the woods when you went into the basement. It’s like he only stared when he knew you couldn’t see him. . . Like he knew I couldn’t defend myself.” The last sentence came out breathy and you gritted your teeth at the realization.

“Well I’m here to stay. So if I’m what scares him off then he won’t be coming ‘round again.” John spoke adamantly. His hand went from stroking your back to gripping your hip and bringing you close. John had you tucked under his arm and by his side, firmly in his hold.

“Think Evie got a good look?” You asked which made John frown down at you.

“Feel like a fool for not believing her.” He ran his free hand ran down his face.

“Me too. We owe her an apology.” You placed your face in your hands feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Oh and would’ya look at that. Police thirty minutes late like usual.” Soap scoffed.

——————

It was an early Friday morning with the suns orange hues streaming through the windows of your kitchen. Breakfast was laid out on the table. A plate of eggs, bowl of beans, toast, sautéed mushrooms, and cut up fruit sat already picked over. Jj was scraping the last of the beans onto his plate with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Lily had her open mouth pressed up to the side of her plate as he shoveled her eggs into her mouth that way. Before this method of eating, her eggs kept falling off her fork and made a mess on the floor that Molly was cleaning up.

“Do you have to go?” Lily asked with a mouth full of her breakfast.

Evelyn was wrapped around John’s leg like she had been for the past half hour. She was sat on his foot with her legs tight wound around his calf and arms locked around his knee. John didn’t say much about it but instead hobbled around the first floor with her attached to him. Usually if he allowed her to act out or be on the difficult side it made saying goodbye easier. John wasn’t sure why but you told him it’s because it made her feel important. That even when she was being difficult she felt the extra love with his patience.

“Yes. I’ll only be gone the weekend.” John reassured Lily who frowned at him.

“But there’s a new episode of Bluey.” She protested. A big pout formed on her face since John wouldn’t be here to watch it with her.

“We can watch it together when I get back.” John chuckled.

He found it cute that a new episode of Bluey should be enough for him to call out of work. Hobbling by you John started to help you finish up cleaning the kitchen.

“Not fair.” Lily mumbled.

“Don’t worry Lil, you’ll get use to dad having to jet off randomly.” Jj thought he was reassuring his little sister but it was like daggers to John’s heart.

John audibly scoffed, face dropping and looking to you for comfort. You only shrugged not knowing what to say. Jj was right in a sense but to you it was something you had still never gotten use to. You went back to your task ignoring your husband’s silent plea for reassurance.

“You okay over there?” John asked, you were taking up bread making and kneading the life out of some dough.

“Fine.” You mused not looking at John.

You were taking out your anxiety on this pour ball of dough. At this rate you were going to bake the world’s densest loaf of bread. All because you couldn’t stomach John being gone for the weekend.

“Soap’s going to be five minutes away. Whatever that was last week was just a freak one off. It’s been resolved with some handcuffs.” John tried out humor which didn’t seem to work. You simply kneaded harder and blew the fallen strands of hair out of your face.

“How are you so sure of that?” It was almost inaudible as you were snarky back. John had spent hours at this point reassuring you everything would be okay.

“Darling, we left my car on base for two nights in a row to make it look like I wasn’t home and there was nothing. I stayed up both nights on lookout.” John had hobbled over to you to try and get you to look at him.

You continued your task, ignoring the burn in your arms.

“The neighbor was arrested. We saw him getting arrested two days ago on our run. Remember?” Taking his index finger John hooked it under your chin and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were kind but he was met with a scowl from you.

“Yeah I remember.” You sighed. This didn’t quell your anxiety.

In fact it made you more uneasy that John was so sure. Your gut told you something was still wrong and John dismissed it as nerves. You two had been bickering about you trusting his judgment and you telling him to trust your intuition.

“Yeah! The policeman who doesn’t like our chickens was there!” Lily exclaimed as she told Jj details to a story he’d already heard. Jj looked back at his little sister with a dead pan expression, he was annoyed at her constant repeating as of late.

“Yeah? Was dad pushing you in the stroller since you’re such a big baby you didn’t wanna stay here with papa?” Jj’s retort had Lily’s lip wobbling.

She had thrown an absolute fit about wanting to join you and John on your run. John gave in and popped her in the stroller and took her along with the two of you that day. Lily got a front row seat to the neighbors arrest. You and John watched everything unfold along with some fellow neighbors.

“I’m not a baby!” Lily shouted back.

“Yeah? News to me.” With an eye roll Jj went back to eating.

“Mummy!” Lily shrieked unable to deal with her brother’s curtness.

“Jj.” You and John both used a stern tone as you warned Jj to knock it off.

“Sorry. Sorry. Let’s all pretend she’s not a big cry baby who always gets her way. I use to think Evie was a brat but Lily takes the cake.” The sass was getting on your nerves and before you or John could reprimand the attitude Jj was getting up.

“I’ll go to my room. It’s worth saying the truth.” He huffed and brought his plate to the sink.

“And-“ John started but Jj cut in again.

“I’ll put the switch on your bed don’t worry.” You couldn’t see him at this point because he was halfway down the hall but you could tell by his tone he rolled his eyes.

“What are we gonna do with him?” John looked at you dumbstruck. You ignored his question and went back to what was weighing on your mind.

“Maybe me and the kids should stay with my dad.” You suggested.

“Would that make you feel better? You can come back during the day, you I’ll get the house to yourself for a few hours.” John rolled right back into the conversation from before. Your comfort was much more important than his preteens rudeness.

“Doesn’t sound half bad.” The idea of having the house to yourself was too good to pass up on. Being here by yourself during the day didn’t feel scary.

“So you want to get rid of us!?” Evelyn accused you from where she sat on the floor still hugging John’s leg.

“We’d sell you if it wasn’t illegal.” John joked which made Evelyn gasp.

“C’mon they’d return them all by sundown.” You added on with a laugh. This seemed to rile up your oldest daughter.

“Good! At least someone would take me cuz no one’s gonna want a stinky old man! And they’d give Lily back for being such a cry baby!” Evelyn hissed. Your eyebrows scrunched together at the shot taken at Lily was was minding her own business. You looked up to see her with her mouth agape like a trout and a strawberry in hand.

“I’m not old.” John said with a straight face.

“I’m not a baby!” Lily shouted.

“Stop it. I don’t know why you and your bother are teasing your sister but it’s enough.” You warned.

“Evie. Say I’m not a baby.” Lily whined. Evelyn rolled her eyes and tossed her head back.

“You’re not a baby.” Evelyn groaned. She only said it so Lily wouldn’t cry. That seemed to be enough for Lily who went back to eating.

“I have to make sure my dad’s free.” You said while shaking your head at your children’s antics

“Why wouldn’t he be? That posh lady broke up with him.” Evelyn was staring up at you, still wrapped around John’s leg.

“Cold, Evelyn.” You laughed.

Your father dating history had been a slew of women who you thought were lack luster. John tried to get you to give them a chance but you brushed him off saying they would never stick around long.

“Now go sit.” Finally you ushered Evelyn off of John and over to the kitchen table to eat her cold breakfast.

“Fine.” Evelyn let go of John and stomped over to the table.

“Darling it’ll be okay.” John who was now able to move around freely and came up behind you and wrapped you in his arms. Those large rough hands you loved so much slid down your arms until his hands encompassed yours. Slowly moving them away from the bread dough, John’s breath was now in your ear.

“Yeah?” You softly asked.

John was going against his better judgment as he told you this. He felt safe and assured that nothing would happen. The problem had been taken care of and there was no way your neighbor was getting out of jail while he was away. John had looked into the charges and chose to keep them to himself but with how worried you seemed it was time to share.

“Look, neighbors been arrested for violating a restraining order of a woman he was stalking. It wasn’t the only restraining order he had put against him. He’s not around to do anything.” John spoke softly, wrapping his arms back around you and hugging you close to his chest.

“John, Officer Parker said it’s not him.” Turning your head to the side you looked up at John who wore a crooked smile.

“You really trust the police to do a good job?” The question hung in the air longer than you liked. You weren’t sure what your answer should be or if you even agreed with John’s sentiment.

“Anyway, I’ll have Soap check in on you throughout the day.” Letting you go John shrugged and gave you a kiss to the cheek, his beard leaving behind the usual scratchy feeling.

“So you’re not convinced it’s the nephew!?” Whipping around you had your finger in John’s face. He chuckled deeply and moved your hand back down to your side.

“I am convinced, you’re the one who’s not. But you know me darling. Not one to take chances when it comes to something as precious as you and the kids.” John was being sweetly flirtatious and you weren’t sure if you should blush or get him to be more serious.

“Well, I still have to call my dad. I’d feel okay if Soap was here for the weekend while you’re away-if my dad’s busy.” The thought of Soap spending the weekend finally quelled the anxiety that had taken root in your chest. Soap would keep you and your children safe, you were sure of that.

“Well he’s not staying here. The man can barely keep it in his pants as is, and I don’t need you falling for whatever charm he has that makes women flock to him in droves.” Talking with his hands John then shook his head in what seemed to be frustration and went to grab something from the fridge.

“John.” You whined at his reasoning.

“Stay with your dad and come by in the morning. You’ll get to enjoy the house to yourself. I’ll have Soap stop by in the morning and then see you off mid afternoon.” John’s mind was made up on how things would go and you could only roll your eyes at him.

“A lot of precautions for someone who thinks I’m safe.” You muttered.

“I know you’re safe but you wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I did all this.” Kissing your temple John grabbed a tub of ice cream and popped the lid off. Before you could move John snatched you around the waist and purred in your ear.

“Let’s send the kids to your dad’s tonight and you can show me how much you’ll miss me.” John flirted.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle and grabbed spoons. John was right and you would’ve bugged him to do all this but he had beaten you to it. With it just being you home you didn’t see the harm. It would be nice to have the house to yourself.

“And stop rolling your eyes. You wonder why the kids do it when they’re giving us attitude.” It sounded playful with a twist of seriousness and you subconsciously rolled your eyes again. This earned a firm smack to your bottom.

——————

“Hey, I miss you and clearly you miss me too. The flowers are beautiful. Who’d you get to drop them off? Ended up staying at your sisters last night, had too much wine to drive to my dads. Anyway got here pretty early and slept off the hangover. I didn’t even hear who stopped by with the flowers cuz I slept in for once. Ha! Crazy huh? Me sleeping in. Feels like a dream. Welp, I miss you and can’t wait to see you on Monday. Be safe and come back in one piece. I love you John.” You hung up, wondering when John would get a chance to check his voicemail.

You loved leaving him long winded voicemails. The first time you ever did it was when you were dating. John gushed about it on the way home from you picking him up from the airport. He went on and on about how hard it was to not get to talk to you when he wanted, so to have a voicemail where it was like having a conversation made everything feel better. So you never stopped doing it and whenever John called back he prattled on like the conversation was fresh and not hours, days, or weeks old.

The roses on the kitchen counter were gorgeous which was what spurred on that voicemail. Long stemmed and in the vase you inherited from your mother. It was a Persian blue vase that was portrayed in one of your mother’s painting hanging up in your bedroom.

Cocking your head to the side you stared at the vase for a minute longer. Something was prying at your mind, something unsettling. This vase was suppose to be in your office. You had it put away, packaged neatly and safely so it could never be damaged. That was the entire point of why the painting was hung up. So you could still see it but not risk it ever being broken.

You couldn’t remember if you told John where you had put it. It was making you wonder if he had gone through your office to find it. But why would he do that, when John knew not to take this out considering the last time he brought out one of your mother’s vases it was shattered by mistake.

Reaching forward you plaid with one of the fallen rose petals on the counter. Your mind was stuck on the Persian blue vase. No way were these delivered by an outside source. There was no way a stranger could get into your home. So it had to be someone you knew. John would never ask any of his family members to go rifling through your office. Maybe Soap was the one to drop them off when he checked on you this morning, but still why would he go in your office. The only person John would ever ask to do that was your father.

So, you called your dad.

“Hey, why didn’t you stay for breakfast? Hope taking mums vase out didn’t upset you. I know how certain things of hers hurt a little bit more than others. Anyway, thanks for doing that so John could surprise me. Call me back.” Hanging up you eye’d the flowers one more time before going to make yourself breakfast.

Your day continued from there. It was nice having the house to yourself. It almost never happened so when you found yourself eating junk food all day while watching tv you decided you had to do at least one productive thing. Soap had stopped by again and told you he’d be seeing you off around 5. Around dinner time you had just finished throwing a load of laundry in when your phone rang.

A large grin spread across your face. Illuminated on your phone screen was a picture of John looking content. He was buried in the sand from his waist down with a margarita in hand and wearing his boonie hat. It was from your last holiday abroad and like every beach vacation he let the kids bury him in the sand. It was a ploy to tire them out, not have to run around with them, and get his drinks served directly to him.

“Hey-“

“What flowers?” John’s voice was deadly serious.

You were a bit taken aback. You were expecting charm, or a flirty greeting. Instead you got demanding words that made you feel weightless for a second.

“Uh, there’s flowers on the kitchen island. Roses to be specific, the long stem that I like. Th-they’re in my mums blue vase that I keep in my office.” You stuttered a bit.

There was this feeling of dread taking over. Maybe John forgot he told your dad to do this. Or maybe your dad just did it to be sweet and you should call him again to check. Soap could’ve done it and John pulled out the vas before he left. John calling you and sounding so serious was raising the alarm bells in your head.

“Darling, I didn’t order you flowers.” John sounded even, almost too calm.

You gulped down the rock forming in your throat. There had to be an explanation. John said you were safe, you believed you were safe. Soap checked up on you twice today, how could you be anything but safe.

“Maybe my dad stopped by-“

“He has the kids. You really think they wouldn’t have come and woke you up?” John’s words were making your head feel staticky.

“Who put them there?” You whispered.

Your heart was beating so loud it was making your ears ring. You stepped out into the kitchen for a moment and looked to see if anything else was out of place. The setting sun was casting scattered hues of purples and oranges across your colorful kitchen.

Your eyes slowly moved over the room and stopped at the roses standing tall in the center of the kitchen island. The way your head moved felt like a magnet slowly pulling you to look at the slightly ajar basement door. The whites of your eyes felt dry as you stared at it, phone pressed to your ear and hand shaking. That door had been closed all day and no one but you was home to open it.

“Where are you?” John’s thick voice interpreted your thoughts. Taking a step back into the laundry room you slowly started to shut the door.

“The laundry room. Th-the basement door- it- it’s crack-ed.” You whispered.

“Lock the doors and stay in there. There’s a tool box on the shelf above the dryer. I hid a knife in there, grab it. Soap will be there soon. I’m going to call you right back.” John spoke to you calmly to hopefully keep you from freaking out.

This was a situation that had his heart about to leap out of his throat. The fact he wasn’t there to handle whatever was happening terrified him. He could only imagine the fear you were facing being home alone with a possible threat in your home.

“Shouldn’t I hide in my office like we’ve planned? Maybe I opened the door and just forgot? I can be forgetful! I-I must have done it!” This was always the plan if anything bad happened. It was to hide in your office. You couldn’t come to terms with the truth staring you straight in the face.

“No. Stay exactly where you are and do what I said. Soap will be there soon.” John spoke forcefully this time. With the facts presented to him he had a good idea what would play out if you went down those basement stairs.

“J-John.” His name came out in a broken sob.

John could hear you fumbling around as quietly as you could. The sound of the toolbox rattling from your shaky hands had his heart beating faster. Your ragged breathing was blowing the speaker out and light sniffles were audible.

“Yes?” John asked.

“I love you.” You spoke with desperation and John could hear it in your voice.

“I love you too. I’ll call right back. Hold tight.” John kept composed for you and your sanity.

You weren’t sure how much time passed. All you knew is it was enough for you to lock yourself in the laundry room, grab the switch blade, and squat in the corner like a cowering animal.

Your phone buzzed and you saw it was John.

“John- I’m scared.”

“It’s okay. Soaps a few minutes away.” The gravely tone of Jones voice helped you feel safe for a brief moment until you realized he was still over seas. It was a hard pill to swallow that John wasn’t near by to protect you. You trusted Soap but no one would fight for you the way John would.

“Who could’ve- why would they- how’d they know about my mums vase? Where I put it? What it means to me?” You babbled out.

“Darling, I’m going to be honest with you-“ John paused and you heard him taking a deep breath.

“I think he’s in the house and I think it’s someone you know personally.” John’s words had you straightening with a chill running up your spine. It felt like you were going to be sick.

“H-how? Where?” You asked.

“I don’t know. . . but I think your office. Why else would the vase be out if not to have you go downstairs and check on things.” John seemed rushed as he explained his reasoning. He didn’t want you to be anymore scared than you originally were but he wanted you to be prepared for the worst.

“When are you coming home?” You began to weep down the line. Pathetic sobs echoed down the line turning John’s rage white hot.

“Making arrangements as soon as Soap gets there.” John spoke to no response. All he could hear were your quiet fearful sobs on the line.

You weren’t sure why you did it but you crawled over to the door that led to your kitchen. Unlocking it with shaky hands, you cracked it open the tiniest bit. The kitchen table sat between the laundry room and basement door. But you could just peer through the chair and table legs to see the door still ajar.

Your heart stopped in that moment. In the orange glow of the setting sun you saw one eye so dark it looked black staring right at you. Unblinking and with a vacant stare the one eye watched you in such a predatory way you couldn’t look away. Terror had clutched so tightly it stole the air from your lungs. You could make out just the edge of a nose with pale skin, sunken eye so wide it was unnatural, and in this moment you had never been more scared in your life. Your bladder gave out and you stared back as you looked death in the eye.

“Darling? Are you okay?” John asked once he heard your ragged breathing stop.

Not taking your eyes off the person staring at you, you shut the door and locked it again. You were dead, there was no making it out of this alive. And in the moment where fear should be the most prevalent it washed away like the tide on the shore. Clutching the knife firmly in your hand you gritted your teeth and prepared yourself to fight for your life.

“Someone’s in the basement. I opened the laundry room door for a second to see if the coast was clear and he was staring back at me from the bottom corner of the door.” The calmness spooked even your husband.

It was not a fault of yours but in moments of fight or flight you tended to freeze up. So to hear you so calm like you were ready to brave the storm sent shivers through John’s body. You clearly knew how much worse this was than he did.

Knocking sounded on the side door of the laundry room that lead out to the drive way. You clamped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming. Breathing out through your nose with eyes bugging out of your head you scrambled for it. On your feet you went to fling the door open but stoped yourself. You had no idea who was on the other side, you’d assumed it was Soap.

“Indy, it’s me. Open up.” The familiar sound of Soaps voice made you gasp.

Flinging the door open Soap stood there dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair was neatly done and he stared back at you with an even expression. There was that look in his eyes that John would get at times that you could never quite name. To you seemed animalistic, like a need to kill.

Soap took in the sight of you. Bleary eyed, sweating like you’d run a marathon, and a dark wet patch running down your left leg. You were petrified, unable to find words and you simply shook and stepped out on to the driveway.

“C’mon, in the car now.” In one fluid motion Soap had taken the knife from your hands and had you by the elbow.

He lead you quickly and firmly over to his truck and opened the door and practically shoved you in. Soap was at the drivers side in a flash and soon was peeling out of your driveway. With one hand on the wheel Soap began to search around for something in the back seat until he pulled out a pair of his sweat pants and handed them to you.

“Put those on and chuck the ones you’ve got on in the back.” Soap focused on the road his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

The boys in 141 had become rather protective of you, each in their own ways. Having known you for this long you’d created a friendship with them. But after seeing you kidnapped and Soap being the one to find you and carry you out, he had become particularly protective.

“I won’t look.” He added but that didn’t seem to matter to you.

You were already shucking off your soiled jeans and panties and sliding into Soaps grey sweatpants. You noticed how soft they felt and they smelled of lavender making you wonder if his new girlfriend had washed them for him. It was a nice distracting thought from the panic setting your skin ablaze.

“You alright?” Soap asked and then looked at you.

He’d forgotten how he said he would not look and accidentally saw half your bare ass as you slid his sweatpants on. It was obvious you were not alright. Your hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot and puffy, and teeth bared as you held back what seemed to be sobs. Soap was astonished by your ability to hold yourself together. You were safe now and still trying to be strong.

“He-he’s in the h-Ouse.” It felt like acid spewed from your mouth as you said those words.

“Ghost is almost there and he’ll be searching your home.” Soap spoke and placed a hand on your knee as a way to comfort you.

It was that touch that had everything crashing down. The image of the unblinking eye staring back at you was seared into your minds eye. Your trembling hands started to shake violently and your head was spinning.

“Soap, pull over.” You gasped and began coughing.

“What, why?” Soaps head snapped to look at you like you were crazy. You were on a busy road it wasn’t particularly safe to pull over.

“I’m gonna be sick.” You clamped your hand over your mouth as you felt your stomach about to betray you.

Soap immediately pulled off to the side of the road. He watched as you practically tumbled out of the passenger seat and were profusely sick. It was a shock to him that this was enough to get you reacting like that. You wouldn’t last a minute with 141 if this is how you handled stress. But then it started to occur to him that you were a civilian. This wasn’t something you knew how to handle or could compartmentalize.

It started to make sense to Soap why your youngest, Lily, was so sensitive. Soap always wondered who she got it from or if it was just how Lily was. That incredibly friendly and confident demeanor you had did not help you under stress. In fact you were a bit of an anxious wreck under pressure and Lily was too. Soap didn’t know but you had reacted the same way Lily did when John yelled at her. Only you were staring death in the face.

Getting back in to the car with watery eyes you nodded at Soap to keep driving. You felt somewhat better after being sick. That didn’t stop the tears from flowing as you continued to cry.

“You okay?” Soap had no idea how to comfort you, he never really knew what to do when a woman started crying. John warned him you would be a whirlwind but this was a lot more than Soap could understand.

“No.” You sobbed into your hands.

“It’ll be okay.” Soap sounded unsure but it was more from your emotional reaction.

“I just- I can’t stop thinking what would’ve happened if I didn’t send the kids for a sleep over with my dad.” You wailed, absolutely inconsolable.

Things would have been different if your children were home. You didn’t know what you would’ve done if you were attacked while they were home. Or if one of them went into the basement without you knowing. There was no doubt in your mind you would have ended up dead with the kids home. That Jj would’ve had to take his sisters and run while you fought to give them a head start.

“I- I don’t know. But you would’ve kept them safe.” Soap didn’t sound like he believed himself and you weren’t sure you did either.

You versus a man the size of John. A man who out ran your husband, took a dog bite like it was nothing and got away. Yes, you would’ve fought with every fiber of your being to keep your children safe; but would you have actually been able to fight him off and keep your children safe?

“I’m gonna be sick again.”

——————

Soap had taken you to Ghost and Dove’s house after picking you up. It was a complete shit show when you walked through their front door. Dove immediately brought you to her room where you had a panic attack and ended up crying in her arms. At one point she excused herself and you thought it was to attend to her children. You showered and she gave you some clothes to wear.

You were there for hours, the night sky had taken over and midnight approached. You hadn’t heard from John but Soap informed you he was to stay by your side at all times; it was ‘Captains orders.’ You had calmed down significantly with Dove’s help. It reminded you why she was such a huge asset to 141 during the time she served with them years ago. Ghost had mentioned her proclivity in calming down prisoners of war and she was truly your godsend.

You were sitting at her circular kitchen table having tea with her and Soap. Food wasn’t appealing so you ignored her insistence on your eating something. Soap ate enough for the two of you which was a pleasant distraction. You had called your dad and wished each one of your children goodnight. It was the only solace you could find in the situation and you cried over the picture of all three of them asleep in the guest bed at your father’s flat.

It seemed that things had finally cooled down for you. That the world wasn’t crashing down anymore. Dove and Soap both assured you Simon had things handled and to just give it time. So that was what you did until he walked through his back door dressed in all black with his balaclava on.

“Ghost! What happened was everything-“ You were standing up ready to ask a million questions. Dove was quick to stand with you and place her hand on your shoulder to keep you calm.

“Did you go into your basement at all during the day?” Simon asked which instantly put you on edge.

“Uh- no. No I hung around the first floor all day. I-I saw someone some-some psycho staring at me through the cracked basement door right before Soap got me.” You words tumbled out and you were shaking all over again. You would never be able to get that image out of your head.

“Soap, cmon, need your help.” And with that Simon was exiting and heading back to his truck. That wasn’t enough for you. You shrugged Dove off and dashed outside to confront Simon.

“Wait what happened!? W-was the guy in my office!” You demanded. Simon turned on his heels, startling you at his quick movement.

You jumped backward and coward at his hulking frame, flinching as if he were about to strike you. Simon faltered for a moment seeing you like this. He was use to seeing you as a spitfire who loved giving him a hard time. Now wasn’t the time for him to pretend like he didn’t like you. In fact some softness for once was in order and he realized that. Placing a hand gingerly on your shoulder it was a surprise to you he could have such a gentle touch. You assumed everything he grasped would crack and crumble beneath his grip.

“There’s nothing you need to worry about now. Get some rest, no one will be bothering you again.” Ghost spoke with such certainty it made you know exactly what he meant without him actually saying it.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” With a trembling lip you watched as Simon shook his head in conformation to the silent question hanging in the air.

“C’mon Indy, I set up the couch for you.” Dove grabbed your hand a moment later and lead you inside to sleep for the night.

——————

Wheezing metal, thudding of belonging against the truck bed, and tires snapping twigs and branches underneath the weight of three murderous men cut through the heavy air. The night was pitch black, the only light being the yellow glow of the trucks headlights. Ghost and Soap were taking John Price out into the woods.

“How the hell did he get past you?” John seemed aggravated with Soap.

John hadn’t even stopped in to see you. He headed straight here once his boots touched home soil. Dove assured John you were safe and okay. As much as it pained him, John knew you could wait while he finished handling things.

“Flowers weren’t there when I checked on her in the morning. We only talked on your front porch that afternoon and she was getting ready to head out after she did some laundry. Never brought up the flowers.” Simon wasn’t happy with Soaps response.

“Doesn’t fucking matter. You should have checked the house.” Simon snapped aggressively.

“She told me not to worry. That it would be indecent for me to come in. Not sure why.” Soap answered matter of factly.

John knew why you’d told Soap not to worry. You were getting your own alone time which had included some delicate items left out on your bed that you were embarrassed for Soap to see. So you sent him away not thinking much of it and protecting your privacy.

“She wouldn’t have let Soap search the house. So drop it.” John wasn’t going to get into it. It was obvious enough in his mind and he didn’t see any reason to humiliate you more than you currently felt.

“When I got there the power was cut. Would have forced her down to the basement to fiddle with the circuit breakers.” Ghost continued the tone of his voice menacing. It was clear he was wound up by the events although he kept his composure.

“He really wanted her to stumble upon him.” John muttered.

John hated that you saw the man in your home. That you were so petrified you wet yourself in fear and he witnessed that. This stranger got exactly what he wanted and it was to see you scared for your life.

“Think he got off on her being terrified. And finding a man in the basement when she’s all alone would’ve been the most terrifying thing for her.” Soap added.

“Had a black duffle bag filled with things he was planning on using. He hadn’t realized she fled out the side door. He was searching for her when I got there. Humming some tune and calling her by name. . . Doing creepy fucking shit to scare her.” Ghost explained.

Knowing this man was lurking around your house and playing out his sick and twisted fantasy was making John’s face twitch. His anger was palpable and made the truck feel suffocating. It sounded like one of those horror movies you two occasionally watched. Only this time you had almost lived it.

“Duffle bag?” John was seething at this point. He could only image what kind of tools someone so depraved would bring along.

“I disposed of everything. Besides this and his journal.” Ghost handed over a prescription bottle of little blue pills and that was all John needed to know what the man’s intentions were.

It was more than to scare you. It was to do unspeakable things, torture you, and leave you for dead.

John had suspected that this was someone you knew personally. Someone who would be able to find out small details about you and it seem innocuous. John had been wracking his brain on who it could be and his mind kept sticking to one person in particular. One person who’d been snooping around his home in broad daylight and no one thought twice about.

Then John read the name on the bottle and all his suspicions were confirmed.

“We know him. It’s the fuckin’ cop that’s been sniffing around.” John whispered as he gripped the orange plastic so tightly it creaked against his hand.

“Knew.” Was all Ghost said.

“Ya’ killed a fuckin’ cop.” Soap scoffed while shaking his head.

“How’d you do it?” John asked looking from Simon to Soap.

The assumption was the two men took care of it together. That they made him suffer because that’s what John would have preferred. In the end John felt robbed. That he had his opportunity to take his rage out on the perpetrator stolen. John would’ve had him begging for death and that still wouldn’t have been enough for him.

“It was done when I got there.” Soap nodded to Simon. Rolling his shoulder back Simon kept his eyes fixed on the dirt path he drove down in the dead of night.

“Execution style. Let him know he was lucky for that. If it had been you who found him he’d be begging for a bullet.” Simon practically spat the words out, his disgust evident as he spoke about a man he found vile.

“So you’re taking me to him?” John asked with a sigh.

It wasn’t Simon’s fault he couldn’t keep the man alive for him. John saw that Ghost had secured you and your kids safety by ending it quick and easy. There was no longer a threat and you all could sleep easy.

“Thought it best you know all the details Cap.” Soap leaned forward as he spoke and then pointed to the dry birch tree off to the side of the path.

“Here.” Ghost parked the truck and didnt wait to get out.

The three men piled out and stayed silent as Soap lead them through the woods and Simon covered their tracks. Even if someone found the body it wouldn’t be identifiable or traced back to any of them. About two miles off the beaten path they arrived to the spot where Simon carried out his mercy kill.

There was a freshly disturbed plot of dirt with ruffage and leaves thrown over top. Looking to Soap and then Ghost, no words needed to be exchanged. This was where the man who would’ve done unspeakable things to you lay six feet under.

Walking over to the spot where this man had been laid to rest Soap and Ghost wondered what Price would do. All they could see was his back as his shoulder rolled back and he fiddled with something at waist level. Soon they could hear the clink of metal from John’s belt and then a steady stream.

Sharing a look Soap scoffed darkly and Ghost stayed eerily silent. Soap had no idea what he would’ve done in this situation if he were John, all he knew was the man had every right to lose his mind but wasn’t. His reaction was to piss on the man’s grave and Soap couldn’t blame him for that.

Ghost commended Price for keeping his cool. If the rolls were reversed Simon would has lost his grip. If anyone ever threatened his wife and entered his home where his children rested their heads at night Simon would light the world ablaze in his wrath.

“A bullet was too kind, Simon.” The words were growled over the sound of John’s belt clinking once more as he fastened it.

“Saving him for you wasn’t an option.” Simon spoke evenly.

“Lucky bastard.” Was all John said before heading back to the truck.

——————

It was late when John finally returned home. Your children were all tucked into bed and Gaz had said his goodbyes to his captain. Gaz had told him you went to bed a few hours ago and he hadn’t heard anything since. John was expecting to walk into the room with you fast asleep. But when he stepped through your bedroom door he was immediately met with you flinging yourself into his arms.

“Tell me everything’s okay. Tell me it’s over with and the guys arrested.” You babbled as your embrace grew tighter and tighter.

John was showing now signs of letting you go and you wanted to be held until all these horrible feelings went away. You wanted to be so close to him that you could crawl under his skin and set up camp. Melding into him was the only way to fell better. Maybe he could wear you as a backpack so you didn’t have to let go. You were starting to understand why Evelyn wrapped herself around John’s leg the other day. Something about not having to let go and John being okay with it left you feeling cared for and protected.

“He’s dealt with.” John tried to reassure you.

Without thinking and acting naturally John picked you up and you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist. John brought you over to your shared bed and plopped down on his side so you were laying on your back and he was pressing you into the mattress.

“Like dead?” You pushed John off you by the shoulder. Now with both hands on either side of your head he stared down at you. His face was emotionless as he kept his composure which wasn’t reassuring to the question you just asked.

“Darling-“ John was cut off by you sitting up and staring at him confused and unsure. You were sitting criss cross on the bed while John sat up straight with his feet on the floor.

“Is the guy dead John? Did Ghost kill him? Did you kill him!?” The questions rolled of your tongue.

John stared at you with a serious expression. You didn’t need him to answer to know the man was most likely dead. You came to that conclusion quickly just by the way John was acting.

“John did you kill him?” You asked again.

“No.” He said adamantly. You took a breath realizing what this meant.

“So Ghost did?” You shook your head to see if John would mimic you and silently admit to it; but he didn’t.

John didn’t answer this time. He turned his gaze to your open bedroom door and stared out into the dark hallway. The lack of response had you panicking in a whole new way. Before John knew it you were standing and shutting the door then frantically pacing.

“Okay. Okay. Oh fuck. That’s bad John. That’s really bad.” Your fingers were in your hair as you began to nervously tidy your room. John watched you pace and pick up the pile of clothes on the floor and then start fiddling with things on your dresser.

“Nothing happened. All you need to know is he won’t be bugging our family again.” John spoke evenly but was becoming stressed by your pacing and how you nervously tidied the room.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” You stopped in your tracks as your mind came up with vicious scenarios.

Had Ghost stumbled upon something so depraved that it drove him to murder this stranger in your home. Then you started to freak out. Was someone murdered in your home? Were the police going to come for you and John as accomplices? Would Ghost be arrested for murder and miss out on his family all because of you?

“Sit, it’s okay.” John guided you to sit on the foot of your bed. You had stopped babbling and pacing but now you were staring blankly off into space which worried John more than the nervousness.

“Does Dove know?” Your head snapped up realizing Simon’s wife would probably fall apart at the news.

If you found out John killed someone on your behalf you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from the shock. You would constantly be worrying about him being arrested or someone coming after him. There would be a worry that the guilt would eat him alive. Although, little did you know murder was hardly off the table for John. He found that he could live quite comfortably with a guilty conscious on that front.

John took a moment before speaking. He was trying to weigh if the truth was worth you knowing. Ultimately he decided being honest was better and would hopefully create more of an understanding between you two. It was an attempt to get you closer to his way of thinking and that violence was in fact was a solution for some scenarios.

“In for a penny, I guess. . . It was her idea.” John’s words shook you to your core.

“Am I just surrounded by crazy? What kind of example are we setting for our kids.” You placed your face in yours hands.

John knew this was going to be hard for you to understand. As a person who had never seen war but experience violence and came out of it still not wishing death upon anyone, you would struggle to accept things. You had been kidnapped once and beat to a pulp and you had never truly recovered from that mentally. John couldn’t tell you the true danger you were in, for fear you’d live you life scared. That the man who waited for you in your basement had despicable plans for you for days and your survival would have left you so damaged John wondered if you would have chosen death instead. And that was without your children home. The whole situation was John’s worst nightmare but the thought that your little girls and son could have been subject to such cruelty made John’s blood run cold.

“I’m going to be candid with you. That man had horrible things planned for you. God only knows what he had planned if Jj, Evelyn, and Lily were home with you, love.” John took a deep breath before continuing.

“Simon made a choice where the outcome guaranteed your safety, the kids safety. That there would be no chance of it happening again or the law failing us.” Placing his hand on your shoulder John wasn’t sure if you were convinced. He was crouched in front of you now and hoping by some miracle you’d be okay with this.

“He made the right choice. I respect his decision.” John spoke as if it were fact. It was his way of egging you on for a reaction. It was killing him seeing you silently sitting on the foot of your bed with your face in your hands.

“How do we begin to thank him? I’ve never owed someone my life before.” Your attempt at humor came off dry and unfunny but John knew you were trying to come around to this idea.

“See it as him and I are even.” John chuckled with no humor and nodded to you as a silent thanks for not freaking out.

“You would’ve done the same?” You asked hoping that John’s response would somehow make this less morally confusing.

“Without a second thought. If someone threatened Dove and her kids the way you were-“ John had to pause as he realized he was growling the words and sounded as if he was losing his grip.

“Well, I’ll let you use your imagination on what I would’ve done.” He forced a smile and hated how you were staring at him as if he had a few screws loose.

Taking a breath you were convincing yourself this was fine. It had to be fine because this was the truth and you’d have to keep on living your life one way or another. At the end of the day the kids were safe and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything like this again.

“Do I bake him a cake?” You looked at John seriously.

The fact you meant what you were asking made John snort out a laugh. He wasn’t sure if you were sweet for that or a bit off your rocker.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You snapped.

“I don’t think he expects a cake, darling. If he did our yard would be fertilized with the blood of his enemies.” John joked.

“That’s not funny.” You whined.

“It is. You’ll come ‘round, just give it time.”

“I’m still baking him a cake.” You mumbled.

——————

“Mum police are here again!” Jj called from the front door.

You had just gotten Lily down for her nap and were coming down the stairs. The officer was standing in your foyer clearly having stepped in on his own or Jj invited him in.

“Jj go hang out in your room for a little.” You smiled sweetly and he nodded.

“And don’t invite police in again, you know how your dad feels about that.” You whispered and he nodded seemingly confused.

“I thought it was just that other cop.” Jj whispered back. You paused with your mouth open to say something and then stopped. With a shrug you sent Jj on his way and turned your attention to the officer in your home.

“Hello, I’m Officer Fitzpatrick.” The middle aged man nodded to you.

“Uh, hi. Would’ve thought Officer Parker would be the one stopping by if it was police.” It was a poor attempt at humor that didn’t seem to affect the officer.

“He’s been dealing with a different case, regarding your neighbor down the street.” He sounded almost annoyed by this fact.

“This is about the break in that happened here recently.” He continued.

“Let’s talk on the porch, I don’t want my kids to hear.” Motioning to your door you and the officer walked on to your front porch and you shut the door behind you.

“Yes. Have there been anymore sightings like you’ve reported in the past. With the arrest of your neighbor and the break in here it seems a lot of people in the area are on edge. Considering your neighbor was in custody when the break in happened we want to make sure we have the right guy.” By the end of his long winded explanation you felt somewhat lectured. As if you were some clueless woman who had no idea what was going on.

“Uh- haven’t seen anything.” You answered dismissively.

“When was the last time there was suspicious activity?” It was like this officer was socially inept how he continued his barrage of questions.

“The break in. Before that officer Parker mentioned a peeping Tom. We assumed it was the neighbor.” You felt off explaining these things. Like these were things the officer should know.

“A peeping Tom? Did he say who reported this?” You watched as the man scribbled down in his note book.

“No. He told me he couldn’t disclose that information.” You had been slowly inching your way back to the front door.

“Hm. The break in-”

“You know I don’t really want to be doing this again. It spooked my family pretty bad, especially me. So I’m going to go back inside.” You had already opened the door and were ready to slip back inside.

“I have a few more questions.” Officer Fitzpatrick urged.

“Oi, leave her be. I can answer anything you need to know.” John was just rounding the house.

He was stepping out of your garden and shutting the rod iron fence behind him. You were curious what he was doing in there and waited for him to join you. John didn’t need this cop drudging up your feelings about the matter. You were still shaken up and would cry at times about your guilt. That didn’t even scratch the surface of the anxiety you were left with.

John now had to check the house top to bottom before bed and even then you had trouble falling and staying asleep. You refused to go down to your office unless John accompanied you and overall were having trouble settling back in to normal life. It was no fault of your own John admitted what happened traumatized you. So, with a cop on his doorstep, asking questions that left you feeling morally bankrupt, John didn’t feel like this was a great way for you to heal.

“Go inside darling.” John nodded at you.

No part of him wanted you to realize what was going on but it was too late for that. Things were weighing on you enough and as your husband, John wanted to protect you. The details of what happened were unimportant and with a cop now sniffing around, John didn’t trust that you wouldn’t accidentally tip him off.

Walking back inside you saw Lily holding on to the posts of the railing and going down the stairs one at the time. She had a big smile on her face and waved to you as she got to the bottom stair.

“Lily, you should be sleeping.” You said in a chipper tone with a smile.

“Mummy.” Lily stopped on the bottom step and spoke seriously.

“Yes.” You laughed.

“I remember who gave me the tulip at swim.” The big toothy grin sent a shiver down your spine.

John hadn’t specified who broke in. You trusted him when he told you it was better you didn’t know.

“It was Mr. Jamie.” This was the fourth or fifth person Lily had named as to who gave her the tulip. She had convinced herself if she could remember then John would never yell at her again.

“My friend?” You shook your head and went to take Lily back upstairs.

“Yes.” She seemed very serious but you were use to her misremembering things, after all she was four.

“I think you’re remembering it wrong sweetheart.” Kissing her head Lily rolled her eyes.

“Carry me?” Lily pursed her lips and looked up at you through her eyelashes. You did as she asked and went and napped with her upstairs. Some sleep felt better than worrying yourself sick about everything going on.

——————

“The kids are gonna love this.” You snickered.

You and John were at the edge of the pond in your back yard setting up a fun surprise for the kids. They had all fallen asleep in the living room after a day spent at the trampoline park. You made a joke about wanting to relax in a lazy river and John thought you could float on the pond.

So here you were, blowing up fun shaped rafts to float on. There was one for each of you besides Lily. You had set up a comfy spot for her on the dock to cuddle with Molly instead. Both you and John knew there was no chance Lily would get on a raft.

Looking up from your task you were surprised at the guest who arrived. You stopped what you were doing to watch as a familiar face approached you and John.

“Where the fuck is he!?” Officer Parker voice was venomous as he stormed past you and right toward John like he was looking for a fight.

“Woah what’s-“

Before you could finish Officer Parker took a swing at John. John hadn’t seen this coming and got clipped on the jaw, the punch barely connecting. You thought John would be livid but he looked amused, like when Jj would play fight with him. Officer Parker was going all in, swing after swing trying to hit your husband. John kept evading like it was child’s play until Parker full on lunged and tried to tackle John.

Now it was John’s turn and he swung fast and hard. The sound of his fist connecting full force with Officer Parker’s face felt like getting hit by a Mac Truck. Parker fell hard and you gasped at the sound of his head smacking against the ground. Instinctually Parker grabbed his eye where he’d been struck.

“John stop!!” You tugged John’s elbow but he shook you off. John already had Officer Parker by the collar and started to drag him like a rag doll.

“Let. Go. Or I’ll fucking kill you!” Officer Parker barked at John, his legs flailing as he tried to get up. Each attempt at getting up John would pull roughly and slam Parker into the earth and then continue dragging the man toward the pond.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Parker screamed, his voice being drown out by the splashing of water as John dragged him into the pond.

“Never gonna get the chance mate.” John growled as he pulled Parker in front of him, spat in his face, and then shoved him with all his strength under the water of the pond.

“John you’re gonna drown him!” You screeched, unwilling to get involved.

“That’s the point.” It sounded like a toss away comment.

John pulled Officer Parker out of the water for a second. The man flailed and gasped for air and then was brutally submerged again. John did this two more times as you begged him to stop.

“Stop! You’re actually gonna kill him!” You started to throw pool toys at John and they simply bounced off of him and floated around him as he drowned the police officer.

“Good.” Johns teeth were gritted yet amazingly he spoke evenly. It sounded like he was mowing the lawn and you asked him if he wanted water. As if drowning a man in the pond behind your house was a mundane task.

“The kids are home STOP!” This time you shrieked so loud it seemed to break through to John.

That was enough and John pulled the officer from the water and then dropped him so he went under on his own. Flailing his arms the officer was trying to swim to the surface and was struggling. You immediately took the few steps over to him and grabbed his hand and pulled until he was crawling out of your pond and gasping for air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Officer Parker was still coughing up water.

“You threatened to kill me. I was defending myself.” The excuse held no weight and you weren’t sure if John was being serious.

John trudged out of the water and brushed down his heard. His jeans were soaked from the knees down and his shirt was damp down the center. For someone who had just almost murdered a man John seemed incredibly calm. These were the moment you swore he was out of his mind. Being so comfortable with violence would never be something you could become accustom to unlike your husband.

“You’re going to go to prison for assaulting a fucking cop, John!” You were melting down about the implication of assaulting a police officer. The last thing you needed was John in jail and you raising three kids on your own.

“HA! No I’m not!” John laughed loud enough it carried across the yard. He was shaking his head and wagging his finger at you as if you were some naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“What do you mean?” You took a few steps away from Officer Parker feeling uneasy about being close to him.

“You gonna tell her?” John looked a bit deranged as he asked the cop and then looked to you.

“What? Tell me it wasn’t actually the neighbor?” You snapped at John.

All of this was so confusing. After everything, you wanted a peaceful day with your children but again this buisness was being brought up when all you needed was to leave it behind.

“I was wrong about the neighbor, I’ll give you that. But he was still a fuckin’ creep so actually- you know what I was right! I was right about him too.” John was ranting at this point.

“You sound insane.” You told John hoping someone would explain what was going on.

“But this pricks brother was the one stalking you. Genius over here caught a wiff and I assume was trying to get ahead of it.” John was half shouting at this point and went as far as to kick Officer Parker over when he tried to get to his feet.

“I don’t know his brother- do I?” You said as you pushed John away before he started beating Parker senseless.

“He fucking works for you. Jamie Parker. And this muppet thought framing the neighbor would buy him time to get brother dearest to leave you be. . . Then I assume he realized neighbor boy was actually a fucking creep and had to deal with that. Am I wrong?” After another tirade you looked from John to Officer Parker for confirmation.

“Where is he?” Officer Parker struggled to get to his feet after being kicked to the ground pretty hard.

He was still coughing and now holding his shoulder from John’s blow. Officer Parker didn’t seem as angry anymore. It was probably because John just proved he’d drown him in the pond if he tried anything again.

“Only thing I can’t figure out is why you told Y/N you didn’t think it was the neighbor. That it had to be someone who knew her maiden name?” John asked, more like demanded.

“Where is he!” He hadn’t fully caught his breath but Officer Parker found the strength to yell.

“No clue. Ran off after he broke in.” John lied so convincingly you almost believed him.

“No, absolutely not. He’s a little weird but he’s been so normal. I’ve been mentoring him, we-“ You took a deep calming breath that didn’t help at all.

Jamie was not the person you thought would do this. He was a young man, mid twenties and handsome. He could’ve had any girl with a little bit of effort. There was no way he fancied you enough to do all this. Yes he was a little awkward at times and asked invasive questions but you chalked it up to him being young.

“We’ve had him over for dinner.” John finished for you.

“He’s fancied you since before you even knew who he was. You lectured at his university once as a favor to his professor. It’s been going on for years, he just got out of hand when you started mentoring him.” Officer Parker finally let on to what he knew.

“Out of hand!? Get the fuck off my property or I really will drown you.” John tried to charge Parker.

You quickly placed your hands on his chest to stop him because you knew John wouldn’t truck through you to get to the officer. The fact Parker put it so lightly only fueled John’s rage.

“Stop it!” You snapped at John.

“Why’d you get involved?” You asked but Officer Parker shook his head at you as if you were annoying.

Turning to John you could see it was taking all of his will power not to murder Parker.

“Answer her.” John ordered.

“Couldn’t turn him in. He’s family. But I couldn’t let him do-“ Parker cut himself off before he incriminated his brother further.

“He does the children’s exhibits. . . No wonder Lily knew him! I’ve left the kids with him so many times.” Part of you wanted to panic and scream but the feeling felt hollow. There was no point in freaking out beyond not having a lack of trust for people. There was no need for you to worry now.

Because he was dead.

“Where is he? He hasn’t come home, isn’t answering his phone, no show at work- which you know.” Officer Parker pointed at you but you immediately looked away and at John.

You hadn’t put two and two together but John must have. He was smart enough to keep it from you because you would’ve freaked out. And now you had to use your poker face to keep Ghost’s secret safe. You could freak out later.

“Like I said he ran off after he broke in. Think our dog scared him off.” John lied flawlessly again and you shook your head confirming it. Molly wasn’t even home she had gone with the kids to your dads.

“You fucking killed him didn’t you?!” Officer Parker stepped toward John again but you were standing in the middle of them.

“John wasn’t even here.” You butted in.

John pulled you to the side and squared up to Parker. He knew he wouldn’t go through you to get to Parker but didn’t know if Parker had any regard for you. It was incredibly satisfying watching Parker flinch as John’s stepped forward.

“I was out of the country. You can check.” John said condescendingly.

This seemed to stun Officer Parker. Horror was now etched across his face as he turned to you. With his mouth agape and wide eyes you both stared at each other for a long moment. You knew he knew what his brother had planned for you.

“You weren’t- were your kids home?” Looking from John to you in horror the severity of that break in seemed to set in.

“No, thank god! But I was by my fucking self while your psycho ass brother was in my basement office doing god knows what!” You shouted.

“Where is he.” Officer Parker asked calmly this time.

“Why did you get involved in this. What made it serious enough that you showed up at our home?” Stepping forward you put yourself in Officer Parker view but he waved you off.

You were absolutely done with this. The lack of answers was too much. Taking a ragged breath through your nose you reacted on impulse. Cocking your hand back you swung forward with all your strength. You punched this man with all the force you could muster and you swore in that moment you’d never felt so violent before. It occurred to you this was why John had a proclivity for violence; it felt good in the moment. You were so enraged you didn’t feel the pain radiating from your hand but kept your eyes glued on the man as he stumbled back a few steps and gripped his nose that was now leaking blood.

“What the fuck!?” He shouted at you.

“Good on you!” John was practically cheering you on.

“Tell me!” You shouted before slapping the officer once, twice and then trying to claw at him.

John gave you a second and then had his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. He did wait and gave you a few good slaps and kicks before he stopped you. John lifted you off the ground when he realized you weren’t going to stop going after Parker and Parker wasn’t going to fight back.

“He- I found his journal and there were a lot of concerning details. I tried to get him help and when that didn’t work I tried to warn you two. I couldn’t blame it on your neighbor or you’d put your guards down but I also couldn’t turn my own brother in.” Finally the truth came spilling out. There was something about getting beat up by a woman half his size that was more terrifying than almost being drowned.

“Yeah and you’re lucky I’m not dead or I would SO kill you right now!” You all but screamed. You were kicking your feet and wiggling for John to put you down so you could have another go.

“Easy there killer.” John chuckled trying to calm you down like some rabid animal.

“Now, where is he? Did you kill him?” Officer Parker seemed desperate for answers himself.

“I wasn’t here. I don’t know what happened to him. But I hope he got what he deserved.” John nodded in a way you found odd.

Officer Parker stared at him for a long while. Water dripped off of him making the ground beneath him muddy. His left eye was swelling and turning red from John’s punch and his nose was bleeding from yours. The summer breeze picked up and blew strong making the officer shiver. There was a silent understanding that by the way your lives had continued you felt safe. With safety came the fact there was no more threat to you and your family.

“I’m going to find him.” Officer Parker hung his head for a moment before he started to walk toward his car parked in your driveway.

He’d accepted there would be no answers from you two. You weren’t sure why he gave up now after putting up such a fight. But John seemed to understand.

“Stay here.” John spoke to you softly and followed Officer Parker from a distance.

John watched the man climb into his personal car to leave. They shared another long look before Officer Parker’s red rimmed eyes closed for a moment. He nodded his head a few times before giving John once last look. Putting the car into reverse, Officer Parker went to leave your property and swore to himself he would never come back.

“Oi!” John called out which had Officer Parker stopping and looking back in surprise.

John held up a finger for him to wait and then disappeared inside. A minute or two later John appeared out of the side door of the laundry room with something in his hand. Bending down so they were eye level John handed over the journal Parker’s brother left behind.

“We made copies. But you should have it.” It was clear to him why he was doing it but John felt it better to not have that disgusting book in his home anymore. It would ruin any progress you made if you ever stumbled upon it.

“Thanks.” With slight hesitation Parker took it.

The leather bound book felt icy in his fingers and made his stomach twist at the knowledge John had read the depraved thoughts of his brother. The pages held such grotesque entries that made it clear no person would feel comfortable in their home again if who wrote it were still breathing.

“He was sick.” Officer Parker weakly tried to explain.

“Well, he’s not anymore. Cheers.” John stood back to his full height and patted the roof of the car.

——————

“That’s a lie.” Evelyn giggled loudly at her brother calling you out so rudely.

You were all sat down for dinner from your local Chinese food restaurant. Your kids were in their pajamas with how late you were eating. Looking over to John you didn’t know what to say to your son. You were a horrible liar so any attempt to say you weren’t would make you look more guilty.

“Oi, don’t call your mum a liar.” John pointed at his son using his fork. He barley looked up from his plate and continued eating.

“Mum did not break her hand by punching someone trying to steal an old ladies purse. How dumb do you think we are?” Jj looked at his father absolutely exasperated.

After Officer Parker had left John found you in the kitchen with a bag of peas on your hand. You were sobbing uncontrollably and John thought it was from the pain. It only took a few questions for him to figure out how horrible you felt for what happened. That what Ghost had done to protect you meant someone lost their life because of you.

But what made the tears flow endlessly was that you felt no remorse. Things were finally getting back to normal and you would have Ghost do it a hundred times over for this peace of mind; and that had you questioning your morals. It took a lot of soothing and comfort from John to help you accept things.

By the time you cried it all out you told John you most definitely broke your hand from punching Officer Parker in the face. John mentioned that he tried to teach you how to throw a proper punch but you refused to learn. You could throw a mean elbow but that was about it. You told him you were never going to resort to violence again unless him or one of the 141 boys murdered someone else. John tried to convince you again because the odds weren’t in your favor. This had you threatening to punch John and break your other hand if he didn’t swear to never allow that to happen again. It ended in a stale mate and you with a lime green cast, John still didn’t understand why you insisted on that color.

“You’re right.” John nodded and took a sip of his beer.

“It was a bank robbery. Your mum clocked the guy in the face and took his gun. People were cheering at her bravery. They’re thinking about naming her a town hero.” It was said so seriously you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing.

“Banks closed on Sundays.” Evelyn poked a hole in John’s story expertly quick.

“I punched a fox trying to get at the chickens.” You lied with a cheeky smile.

“Mummy you shouldn’t punch foxes, they’re dirty.” Lily told you seriously.

“Oh, cmon! Mum clocked you dad. You finally mouthed off enough and drove her mad.” Jj was laughing to himself by the end of his own made up story.

“No, mum so slipped and fell going to the loo! She’s too embarrassed to admit it so dad’s trying to make her seem all tough.” It was now Evelyn’s turn to come up with a reason.

“Looks like you’ll never know.” John mused.

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