#John Porter x ofc

[middleearthpixie]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, @i-did-not-mean-to!!

And.... we're off...

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 36

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 2,583,909 (just about everything i write tends to go novel length and when my muse cooperates, look out!)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien - The Hobbit and LOTR, and most of the characters played by Richard Armitage.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? After the Fire, More Than Meets the Eye, Brilliant Disguise, Where I Belong, In This Moment

5. Do you respond to comments? Almost always. It might take me a while, but I try to respond to every one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? That would be The River which was a short piece of about 3k words that takes place right before Thorin starts out for the Shire and the Quest to retake Erebor.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Pretty much everything else (Where I Belong is more bittersweet than flat out happy). I write romance and one of the hard and fast rules is an ending that is either happy or happy for now. And I am an absolute sucker for a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so much hate, but useless criticism (and yes, unless a writer has specifically asked for a critique, criticism is useless so save yourself the time and trouble and don't bother with it. Don't like something, don't agree with it? Write your own story how you want it. I'm not even nice about that any more.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sure. I write steamy in general, but Good Trouble, The Chance You Take, Playing with Fire, Damaged Goods, Miss Fortune, Seven Days, and Better Days are the smuttier of my fics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've written crossovers for Richard Armitage characters - Guy of Gisborne/John Porter

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I doubt my fics are good enough for anyone to steal, so I'm thinking no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I'd be very surprised if I have.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and I don't know that I'd be able to do it, either. I'm far too set in my ways and doing things the way *I* think they should be done and telling the story the way *I* see it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Thorin x OFC

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't have any. I almost never orphan a story. It might take me literally years to finish it, but it will be finished.

16. What are your writing strengths? I write fast and clean (meaning my edits/revisions are usually minimal) and judging by a lot of the comments I receive, I write very good and natural dialogue

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I sometimes have trouble slowing action down, as I usually want to get right to the meat of the story. I also can't always translate the images in my mind to the words on the page.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I write using other languages sparingly - usually just enough to give the reader a feel for the character. It's too easy to fall into linguistic stereotypes otherwise.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Marvel. Loki, specifically.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? This one is a three-way tie between More Than Meets the Eye, After the Fire, and Something in the Night, (my current WIP) because all three have heroines who are very unique - Arielle is not only trying to pass herself off as her twin brother, but she rambles when she's nervous, Jasna is a medical student who stutters, and Nina is a bounty hunter seeking revenge against a certain dwarf king. All three were and are fun to write.

And now for the no-pressure tags!

@evenstaredits @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @frosticenow @glassgulls @sunnyrosewritesstuff and anyone else who'd like to answer! :)

[gemmahale]

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (Reboot) - Works In Progress

I'm always happy to answer questions and share progress on any of these! My Ask Box is always open. Links lead to the tag for that WIP.

All WIPs are 18+. Minors, please don't.

John 'Bravo 6' Price

#Useful Girl WIP - A retrospective that takes John Price from Pompous Playboy Lieutenant to Suave Dominant Captain with a woman that makes his head spin and his pants tight. BDSM, D/s, boot blacking and similar kinks. John Price x OFC Scarlett Morgan

#Bury The Lede WIP - An investigative journalist followed the paths of multiple women that have gone missing in a desert town. Now she's stranded with her car fucked. The kind Samaritan that took her to his friend's mechanic shop might know more than he lets on. John Price x OFC Reporter x [Redacted] x [Redacted]

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

#Call of The Wild WIP - When his werewolf girlfriend goes missing, Kyle Garrick must set his feelings aside in order to save her from a hybrid trafficking ring. Kyle Garrick x OFC Shannon Porter Shifter AU

#The Contract WIP - In a fit of frustration, Rosalind Henderson makes a deal with a demon. When he comes to collect, they're taken aback by how normal he is. Or is there more to this contract she didn't know about when they signed? Kyle Garrick x OC Rosalind 'Rosie'/'Lin' Henderson Demon AU; Collab with @pfhwrittes

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

#Embroidered Secret WIP - Kyle Garrick meets Lucille Fitzroy at one of the many balls. Follow their courtship with a lost and found trinket, a realization of love, and lots of witty banter and stolen moments. He fell first, she fell harder trope. Kyle Garrick x OFC Lucille Fitzroy Regency AU; Collab with @ofdivinity01

#Flowers from My Love WIP - Johanna Hawkins, disabled flower farmer, meets the Taskforce 141 and becomes smitten with Kyle Garrick when they occupy the neighbor's house. When a farmer's market event is attacked, she has to trust her new friends to be able to get her out of the precarious situation she's found herself in. Kyle Garrick x OFC Johanna Hawkins

#A Protégé's Trust WIP - Laswell's CIA Operative Lisa 'Badger' Compton manages to get under Kyle's skin every which way he turns. It's infuriating how much she bothers him. Her silky voice over comms, her voluptuous curves handing him information, the twinkle of her painted fingernail on her firearm's trigger - one of these days, he's going to lose it over this woman. Kyle Garrick x OFC Lisa 'Badger' Compton. Collab with @pfhwrittes

#Squeamish Stitches WIP - When Gaz is injuried on a recon mission, it's up to Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan to get him patched up. One catch: her last visit to med bay resulted in her fainting at the sight of blood. Squeamish or not, his life rests in her hands while Ghost secures the safehouse. Aka: the Triple G Crew Kyle Garrick x OFC Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan; Simon Riley & OFC Glitz

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

#Schooled WIP - Kyle's life's been uprooted after the failed capture of Makarov. Will moving to Wales, accepting a new position in MI6, and flirting with his twin sister's best friend help him reacclimate? Kyle Garrick x OFC Erin Whitford Collab with @eilidh-eternal

John 'Soap' MacTavish

#Museum Muse WIP - An online friendship blossoms between KelpieTinker93 (John) and IrisOfTheLake (Daisy) when they keep finding themselves active in the same online forums - especially a few spicy ones. Shy flirts become outright come-ons, and a tentative relationship blooms.

Tinker and Iris eventually decide to meet at a coffee shop in person - but can their relationship survive the shift to IRL? Or are they in for the biggest surprise of their life when face to face with reality?

BDSM, D/s dynamic, puppy play Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Darlene 'Daisy' Houghton

#Righteous Fury WIP - When one man finds himself in the same position he was in four years ago, he has a choice to make. When the beast hungry for retribution and protection roars, Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish answers.

That choice leads him into a life he never expected as part of Task Force 141 and SpecGru: one of subterfuge, counter-terrorism, and intelligence operations. He knows how to defuse a bomb and shoot a gun, but can he handle the increased pressure of the work?

Set in the Museum Muse Universe. Published Masterlist John 'Soap' MacTavish, Task Force 141 and Others

#Brix WIP - Orchard manager Annabeth Turner deals with becoming a safehouse for a clandestine task force. The Scot on the team can't seem to help himself and continues to get in the way. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Annabeth Turner

#Highland Tartans WIP - John MacTavish and Holly Duncan, of neighboring Scottish clans, are set to be wed. Historic Scottish Highlands AU (historical accuracy is questionable) Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Holly Duncan

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

#Squeamish Stitches WIP - When Gaz is injuried on a recon mission, it's up to Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan to get him patched up. One catch: her last visit to med bay resulted in her fainting at the sight of blood. Squeamish or not, his life rests in her hands while Ghost secures the safehouse. Aka: the Triple G Crew Kyle Garrick x OFC Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan; Simon Riley & OFC 'Glitz'

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

Kate Laswell

#Edge Dressing WIP - Kate is roped into a bootblacking demonstration by her wife Letty. A curious voyeur learns more about the art than they expected. Kate Laswell x OFC Letty Laswell x OC (TBD)

Task Force 141 - Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap (May Include other MW characters)

#Feylands WIP - The Court of Maevonia have been in search of a human for their court plaything for a while. Josephine Kaplan fits the description of what they want. But when she accidentally shows up unannounced just as a war with a neighboring kingdom is kicking off, it seems like things might work out differently. Can Josie work with the Court to save not only Maevonia, but also Earth from the Penumbra and it’s Shadow Bringers? Fey AU OFC Josephine ‘Josie’ Kaplan x Gary 'Roach’ Sanderson; + Task Force 141, Kate Laswell, Wife Laswell, Alex Keller, Farah Karim

#141 Studio WIP - Samantha West, stage name Poppy, interviews for a position with Studio 141 - one of the most elite, ethical and diverse porn studios. With her hiring comes a whirlwind of changes - mostly for the better. But when trouble comes knocking, will Poppy have the answer on the 'Tip Of The Tongue'? Porn Studio AU. AKA: Kinky Bullshit. Gemma needed a sandbox for gratuitous porn, pro sex-worker. Task Force 141 + Friends x OFC Samantha 'Poppy' West

#7 Sins Bookstore WIP - Seven Sins Bookstore and Cafe is warm and cozy inside - a maze of bookshelves filled with tomes and little reading nooks tucked throughout on one side, and on the other, a bustling cafe with delicious food, hot beverages, wine tastings and room for groups to congregate. But in the basement, beyond an unassuming office door, lies the real purpose of the institution. That’s where the real deals are made, where blood is ordered to be spilled, and pacts signed in indelible hemoglobin ink. Vampire Mobster AU Task Force 141 x OC's - Journalist, Researcher, Barista Manager, Author, Regular Customer

#Horizon Mirages WIP - With an increase in bandit activity in the area around the small town of Whisperdale, recently elected Sheriff John Price and his deputies - Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish, and Kyle Garrick - are pressured to ease tensions between cattlemen, homesteaders and townsfolk alike. Western AU Task Force 141 x OCs - Seamstress, Shepherdess, Saloon Co-Owner, General Store Manager

#Blow A Man Down WIP - The clipper 141 sails upon the seas, exploring and trading at ports across the globe. Returning to home port is always an adventure. Historical Sailor AU Task Force 141 x OCs - Captain of the Sally Lou, Barkeep, Merchant, Dockmaster + Friends

Glitter Background in Header: 1tamara2 from Pixabay Text Divider: @saradika-graphics Last Updated: 10/10/2024

[ebiemidnightlibrarian]

I was tagged by @everythingbutresolved to reveal my wip folder! Thanks for the tag 💙!!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

(the ones that have a "*" probably will have their names changed)

So… This is…uh, it will get a bit long because I have no self-control…

That being said, Huh Hrm:

Cornucopia — Father Paul x OFC (MM)

One Way or Another — John Tyler x OFC (TMYS)

If I Give My Heart to You — Brice Catledge x OFC (Magic in the Moonlight)

A Place to Hide — Jim Ellis x OFC (The Stand)

Young American — Haimgruder x OFC (Gaslit)

Dear Old Friend — Leonard Kirk x OFC (Fantastic Four)

Shiver — John Tyler x OFC (TMYS)

Cherry pies, Champagne, and Ashes — John Joseph Jacobs x OFC (Pushing Daisies)

A Dangerous Thing — Jerry Dantana x OFC (The Newsroom)

Bella Notte — Evan Grant x OFC (Ugly Betty)

Somethin' Stupid — Andrew Keanelly x OFC (The Crazy Ones)

Tonight You Belong to Me — Ralph Branca x OFC (42)

Strawberries & Cigarettes — Tim x OFC (One More Time)

Alone and Forsaken — Martin Kidd x OFC (Dead for a Dollar)

Wicked Game — Noah Bearinger x OFC (Paper Year)

She Sells Sanctuary — Henry x OFC (Lola Versus)

Evil Within — Dark! Father Paul x OFC (MM AU)

The End of the World — Tom Spangler x OFC (Ithaca)

A Freudian Slip — Matthew Kimble x OFC (TNAOOC)

Male Fantasy — Dark! Andrew Keanelly x OFC (The Crazy Ones)

Cold Light, Hot Night — Miles x OFC (You Can't Say No)

In the Calm Sea of Madness — Clark Debussy x OC (Legion AU)

Out of the Woods — Lysander x OFC (A Midsummer Night's Dream)

Pictures* — Jason x OFC (The Future)

Little Things* — Porter Collins x OFC (The Big Short)

Bluebird — Andrew Keanelly x OFC (The Crazy Ones AU)

Turn Off the Light — David Turner x OFC (Groove)

Love (ain't always a good thing) — Benjamin Conway x OFC (10 Things Se Should Do Before We Break Up)

My Strange Addiction — Evan Grant x OC (Ugly Betty)

High Tension*— Ralph Branca x OFC (42)

Animal Attraction — Miles x OFC (You Can't Say No)

In the Dark — Dark! Father Paul x OFC (MM)

Space Oddity — Cal Zapata x OFC (Battleship)

The White Room* — Maynard Spencer x OFC (The Nickel Boys?)

Sanctus Sanguis — Dark! Father Paul x OFC (Part I of The Blood You Spill in My Garden - MM AU)

Exilium Carmen — Dark! Father Paul x OFC (Part II of The Blood You Spill in My Garden - MM AU)

Noli Timere — Dark! Father Paul x OFC (Part III of The Blood You Spill in My Garden - MM AU)

Night, Night, Sleepyhead — Matthew Kimble x OFC (Part I of Maybe I Could Hold You - TNAOOC)

A Carol of the Bells — Matthew Kimble x OFC (Part II of Maybe I Could Hold You - TNAOOC)

Hot is the Night* — Matthew Kimble x OFC (Part III of Maybe I Could Hold You - TNAOOC)

Sanguis Lunae — Henry Prescott (Werewolf!Haim!OC) x OFC (Original Work)

I also have 4 AU's that I wouldn't out here because I'm still struggling with them (2 ARE crossovers and it's been AGES since I wrote one, so I'm trying to see the best way to write them) but then I said "fuck It", here are my children:

Of Attics, Mysterious Strangers and Ghost Stories — Joe Keller x OFC (Monsterland AU - Rework)

Unnamed (70s Pornstar AU) — Miles x OFC

Unnamed (Midnight Mass x Fright Night (1985) AU)

Unnamed (Catholic Boarding School AU) — Midnight Mass x Fright Night (1985)

Tagging @chronic-ghost @aflockofbees @pegplunkett @catholicfacade @madsmilfelsen and if you haven't been tagged yet, consider this your tag, I'll love to see what y'all have been cooking!

[linasofia]

Masterlist

Thorin

Business & Pleasure

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU) Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 I Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l NYE

Bunnelê

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader x Raymond de Merville (Modern AU) Part 1 l ...

A Shooting Star

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Art

Around the Riverbend

Thorin Oakenshield x OFC

Brothers in Arms

Thorin & Dwalin (platonic)

Among The Stars

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Riin (Crossover AU)

Raymond

Petite Voleuse

Raymond de Merville x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Epilogue

Le Désir

Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Father Quart

Penance 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Seven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

A Piece of Heaven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

More Than Words🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Our Secret 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Coming Home 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Sacrifice 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Charlotte Part 1 l Part 2

Love Never Dies 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Palmira Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Burning Desire 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Lucia

Various RA characters

The Night Train

Daniel Miller x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l …

Into The Woods

Dr Mikhail Astrov x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

The Game

William Farrow x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

Never Together

John Porter x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

The Call

John Porter x Fem!Reader

In My Head

Dr. Scott White x OC Emily

The Assignment

Lucas North x OC Lovisa

Richard

The Fire 🔥

Creature (Richard Armitage) x OC Polina

Hunger 🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader

Blood Moon 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x OC Sofia x Matthew Clairmont Part 1 l Part 2 I Part 3 l Part 4

Naughty Thoughts 🐴

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Event

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist 💦

Asks

Christmas with Dr. Scott White 🎄

Christmas Eve with Father Quart 🎄

Art

Father Quart x me by @legolasbadass 💙

All pictures from The Man from Rome & Obsession by @enchantzz 💜

Thorin Oakenshield by @legolasbadass 💚

Thorin Oakenshield by @mysandwichranaway 💙

Star Wars

Starflowers

Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Eliise

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

A Hui Hou

Summary: Sam decides to take some time for himself.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x OFC

Warnings: none for now, may turn into more

Words: 836

Author’s note: thank you @mskathywriteswords​ for the read-through and green light.

Happy Birthday, @there-must-be-a-lock​! I hope you like it.

Sam was hesitant to take the case in Hawaii. Dean wouldn’t fly, so he’d be going it alone, but someone had to find the old hunter who lived alone on Moloka’i, and the other island hunters were otherwise tied up.

Besides, Sam needed some time to himself. Losing Eileen had been almost as difficult as when she had died only a couple of years before. This round, they’d spent more time together, getting to know each other, and learning to comfort each other.

Dean would be fine for a few days. He was in nesting mode, cleaning the bunker top to bottom, rearranging the kitchen cabinets, sorting through old linens and ordering new ones. He barely said a word when Sam left, he was so focused on cleaning the refrigerator door.

Now, Moloka’i’s infamous hunter Mak is safe and sound as Sam relaxes on the beach behind the old man’s house. The tradewinds are warm and sweet-smelling as the setting sun sparkles on the ripples in the ocean waves.

Sam sees her from a mile away. She’s splashing in the water with two dogs as they make their way down the beach. As she draws closer and becomes something more solid than a lean silhouette, Sam sees she’s smiling, laughing really. Her smile is as warm as the rays of the sun as she twirls and skips with the happy pups at her side.

“Brought y’another a beer,” Mak says, tapping Sam’s shoulder with the cold, sweating bottle.

Sam looks up at the man from where he’s sat in the sand and accepts the brew.

“Thanks, Mak,” he says.

“That’s Ella,” Mak says. “She’s my neighbor.”

Sam nods silently as he takes a sip of the cold porter.

“Ella!” Mak calls to her and waves.

“Mak!” she calls back, taking off in a dead sprint to meet him. “You’re back!”

She tackles him around the waist and the old man grins fondly as he accepts her affection. The dogs circle and hop around their feet.

Up close, Ella reminds Sam even more of the sun and its warmth, even as he’s bathing in it. She almost outshines it.

Sam realizes he’s staring when the neighbors break their hug and Ella looks down at him with an arched brow.

“Hey,” she greets him with an outstretched hand. “I’m Ella.”

Sam grins and offers his hand to her in turn. They shake, and Sam stares.

She’s probably one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life.

“Sam,” he says.

Ella chuckles as she slips her hand from his grip. “How d’you know Mak? You guys in the same line of work?”

Sam starts and his eyebrows shoot to the sky.

“Oh, you can’t keep much from this one,” Mak says. “She’s the island PI that I’ll never be.” He chuckles happily as he ruffles Ella’s beachy, pink hair. “You want a beer, El?”

Mak turns and walks toward his house without waiting for her answer.

“Sure,” she calls after him then turns to Sam. “You found him,” she says, pointedly. “Thank you. As much of a detective as he thinks I am, I couldn’t find him, so... I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Sam answers without thinking. He’s still a little mesmerized by the smile that never leaves her eyes.

The next hour goes by quickly. Sam is treated like one of the family. He’s never felt this way with anyone but Dean, John, or Bobby. It’s almost as if he’s experiencing the life of someone else — someone who’s not a hunter. Yet, Mak is a hunter and he still has this.

“Well, I’m gonna turn in,” Mak says. “Alternate realities can be pretty exhausting.”

Mak stands and brushes the sand from his shorts before ducking to press a kiss to the top of Ella’s head. The sun has dipped below the horizon leaving the sky cast with pink and peach. Sam thinks it must be as enamored with Ella as he is.

The dogs are wrestling in the sand not five feet away from where they sit.

“I guess I should get going, the boys are probably hungry,” Ella says, downing the last of her beer.

Before Sam can stop himself he reaches for her wrist.

It’s delicate and lithe, much like the rest of her, and there’s a flare in her eyes. He doesn’t let go, though; his gut tells him the flare is one on his favor.

He brushes his thumb across the inside of her wrist as he holds her heated gaze.

“Have dinner with me,” he says quietly, his voice sounding less desperate than he feels. He sounds almost confident and suave.

Ella blinks slowly as the corners of her mouth turn up into a smirk.

She nods to the side. “Where to?” she asks, flicking her wrist to slide her palm with his.

Sam grins wide. “Your call,” he says. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Ella throws her head back and her laugh is like the ringing of bells.

to be continued...

If you like what you’ve read, please let met me know and/or buy me a coffee!

[middleearthpixie]

Asks Master List

A Walk in the Woods - Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

Absolute Beginners ~ Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

In This Moment ~ Thorin x reader (Desolation of Smaug Slight AU)

Blind Date ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU

Stroll ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 2

Dessert ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 3

Lockdown ~ Guy of Gisborne/ John Porter Crossover AU Part 4

Cake ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 5

Hot Apple Cider ~ Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Fireworks ~ John Porter x Reader

The Fountain ~ Lindir x fem!reader

Moonlight ~ Lindir x elf!reader

The Escape ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Escape, Part Two ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Harp ~ Thorin x fem!reader

Fair Enough ~ Éomer x fem!reader

[middleearthpixie]

I’m going to set a prompt for you. “Fireworks” for any of your works. Whichever you’re happiest to use.

It took me a while, but here it is... 💜

Fireworks

Summary:Your brother’s annual Fourth of July picnic brings with it a surprise you never saw coming - and brings John Porter unexpected back into your life.

Prompt: Fireworks

Characters: John Porter x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: unprotected sex 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,281

***

You stood in the doorway of your walk-in closet and frowned. Why was it when you actually had someplace to go, you never seemed to have anything to wear? The Murphy’s law of both fashion and being single, no doubt. 

 Although, why you really cared was a bit of a mystery. It was just your brother’s annual Fourth of July cookout and you already knew everyone on the guest list. But for some reason, you just wanted to look… good. 

Still, you didn't have all day to decide. The cookout started at two and you’d had to work, so it was already nearly seven now and if you waited any longer, there’d be no point in going at all.

That in mind, you finally settled on your old standby—jean shorts and a dark green tank top. Your hair almost behaved. Almost. So, up into a ponytail it went and not ten minutes later, you were easing your car to a stop behind your brother’s Ram 1500 pickup. There were a few cars parked in front of his house at the end of Maple Street, where the tall, leafy trees that gave the street its name showed the age of the neighborhood itself. During the day, shade splashed on both sides of the street and most of the cars parked along it took advantage of that shade. 

Music pumped from the backyard. Gabe was a big Beatles fan, and you recognized Sgt. Pepper and fought off a wince. As kids, he had this CD on loop and every morning, you woke up to the same refrain, you’d asked him to please, please, please play anything else and when he refused, you snuck into his room and stole the CD to bury in the backyard. 

But now, you didn't mind Sgt. Pepper so much as you lifted the latch to the gate and came around the corner, smiling and greeting the people you knew, the ones she saw at every one of Gabe’s gatherings.

“Hey, you made it!” 

Gabe was younger than you by almost four years and when you were kids, you couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without trying to kill each other. But, you weren’t kids any more and you didn't mind him so much since he’d finally grown up. He pressed a Sam Adams Porch Rocker into your hand and said, “I’ll throw a burger on for you if you want.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. No cheese, though.”

“No problem. Go and be friendly. It’ll be up win a few minutes.”

You looked around as he went back into the kitchen to get the burgers. Tiki torches flickered all around the yard’s perimeter and  Chairs were set up beneath towering maples and oaks and most of them were already occupied. Kids splashed in the in-ground pool, and you tried not to notice the bikinis around said pool. But, of course you did notice them and as you did, you vowed to work harder on your abs next gym session. A lie, of course. you hated doing abs, but as long as you made the promise, you felt better about the same. 

Before you could even make the attempt to go and be friendly, your sister-in-law Deena came up and wrapped you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in years. “I’m glad you finally got here,” she said, her voice low, “now, don’t be mad at me, but…”

“But what?” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Deena, what’s going on?”

“John’s here.”

“What?”

“I know, I know…Believe me, he heard about it, but” Deena held up both hands, palms out, “Gabe bumped into him and they got to talking and the next thing I know, he tells me he invited him.”

“Deena, are you kidding me?” You craned your neck to scan the huge backyard and it took you all of five seconds to find him, over near the clump of swamp maples to the left of the pool. There he was. 

John Porter.

Fuck.

It had been months since you’d last seen him, but as soon as your eyes alit on him, your entire body went hot. No one would ever blame me for that. After all, the man was hot. Tall, dark, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that promised all of the sinful delights the world had to offer and delivered so much more. He wasn't in your apartment more than ten minutes, there to pick you up for our first date, before you were naked on the sofa with him. You never even made it to the movie you’d planned to go see, which had been fine. He knew what he was doing and you’d take an orgasm over a stupid action movie any day of the week. And while you’d thought you’d never seen him again after that, you were wrong. In fact, you thought you were on the verge of something special, something that would last. 

You were falling in love.

You thought he was, as well. 

He worked for the British government and was only in the States temporarily. He’d gotten a call about a mission, couldn’t tell you what it was or where it would take him, only that he was leaving and he’d call you when he got back to the States.

That was last December. You were still waiting for that call.

Fucker.

“Oh, no,” Deena muttered. “Here he comes.”

“Wonderful.” You lifted the bottle to swallow half of it. A mistake, actually, as you hadn’t eaten and the beer went right to your head. 

“Hi there,” John said, his voice all casual, like you were work buddies or nothing more than casual acquaintances. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?” You managed to sound at least a little friendly. Or so you hoped. But the truth was, the butterflies were going wild in your stomach and the Porch Rocker had your head spinning more than a little and truth be told, just looking at him, all you could think about was tackling him somewhere. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until then.

And really, what you should’ve been thinking was junk punching him. He’d deserve it. 

“I’m good. I—uh—I retired at the end of May.”

“Retired? Really?”

He nodded, lifting his own bottle of Shock Top to his lips for a pull. He took two swallows then lowered it. “Yeah, I’m here now, doing some work for your government now instead.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough that I bought a house.”

That was something you hadn’t expected him to say. “You-you bought a house. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s not huge and there’s more grass than I real care to mow, but I’m adjusting. The worst part is you all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would be you.” 

He smiled, then glanced at Deena before looking back at you. “Look, can we talk?”

“Talk? What about?” You took another sip of your beer like you had no idea what he might want to talk to me about. Playing it cool. 

“I’m going to go see if Gabe needs any help.” Deena gestured toward the Coleman coolers up against the back of the house. “Beer’s in the red cooler, sodas and water are in the blue cooler.” 

Deena darted off, leaving you up on the deck with John, trying to remember why it was you didn't want to go off alone with him anywhere. Nothing good could come of it. It just couldn’t. 

He waited until Deena went back inside. “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

A knowing look came to his face, accompanied by a slightly crooked grin that made your insides twist immediately. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, right. You were going to call me, weren’t you, when you were stateside again?”

“Yeah, I was, but I ended up in the Middle East for months and couldn’t call from there because I couldn't give my location away. When I finally got back to London, I decided I’d had enough. I’d worked with a few Americans over there and was offered a job that paid better, had less travel, so I put in for my retirement and when I came back to the States, I figured too much time had passed and you were probably fairly angry with me, and rightfully so and I know that’s lame, but it’s the truth.”

You really didn't want to believe him, but he sounded sincere enough. And maybe you were being a fool, but you still cared about him, still missed him, and—if you were completely honest with yourself—you will loved him. Not a day went by when you didn't think about him, or didn’t worry about him, even if you would have cheerfully strangled him yourself.

And now, you had the opportunity at a second chance with him. Maybe you were being a fool, but… how often did one get a second chance?

With that, you sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, we can talk.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the side of Gabe’s pale yellow ranch house. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“You know Gabe.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. And his wife keeps giving me the stink-eye.”

You smiled. “She’s one of my best friends, so you’re lucky the stink-eye is all she’s giving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

You knew better, but you let him lead you around to the front of the house. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m still living out of boxes, more or less. Not much in the way of spare time since I got here.”

“But you had time for a cookout.”

“Who turns down free food?” He looked over at you and grinned.

That grin made your insides do a slow melt. Did he have any idea what he promised with only a smile? You remembered all too well what that smile did to you the first time. He’d leaned in and kissed you and that was it. The next thing you knew, you were tugging his cream-colored sweater over his head ad then wrestling with his belt while he had you naked in record time. And that was only the beginning. It only got better from there. 

Your nipples contracted on cue. Heat swept through you now and it had nothing to do with it being the middle of the summer. John Porter just oozed sex. Oozed sex, reeked of danger, and had a face that would make an angle commit any sin he asked. 

And sinning with him seemed mighty good right about now.

Wait? What?

No, you weren’t going there again. You knew you should go back to the house, and drown your sorrows in Porch Rockers, cheeseburgers, and chips, because standing there, with him, at the foot of Gabe’s driveway, was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. Your body remembered all too well what the man standing before could do, what he did do, and it was enough to make you already feel more than a little dampness between your legs. 

No man had ever had that power over you. But John did. And you had the feeling he knew it. Especially when you looked up and found him just watching you, his blue eyes glinting with something akin to promise.

He knew.

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just glad I decided to come.”

As he spoke, he stepped up closer to you. You instinctively stepped back, smack up against the side of your car. “John… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He took another step toward you. “We were good together. We should give it another shot.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we definitely should not give it another shot. I learned the hard way about that.”

“I was a shit and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“John.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m falling for this again.”

“I live right there,” he gestured with one hand over his right shoulder, “so why don’t we forget this cookout and make a few fireworks of our own and see if I can’t convince you how good we are together?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“That’s okay,” his grin widened, “you don’t have to like me. I like you enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Come on, admit it. You like me.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“Sure you do.” He stepped closer and you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up. He towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You relented then and sighed. “Okay, so you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“I knew it.” He bent to you and your heart quickened as his lips just barely brushed yours and he whispered, “I am sorry I didn't call you when I got back,” just before he claimed your lips in a soft kiss.

You sank back against your car as his mouth moved against yours, as his arm slid easily about your waist, as his body pressed up against you. His lips were warm and dry and soft, his tongue hot and silken as it eased between your lips to trace along yours. 

He came flush against you. You’d forgotten how solid he was, how muscled. He might not be in the military any longer, but he certainly didn't get lazy as a result. You melted against him, winding your arms about his neck. Your fingers crept up into his hair. It was short and bristly along his nape, but as they stretched higher, it grew softer. 

John shifted slightly, easing a thigh between yours and you couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth at the sensual friction it created. He pressed up into the apex of your thighs, sliding it along you as he did. Heat pooled where he met you, the cotton lining of your thong already damp. Damn it, he was one of those men who just knew how to touch you to get your motor humming, how to warm you up and make you almost drip with desire. Your core did a slow, teasing melt, the ache sweet and aggravating at the same time. 

But, you weren’t the only one whose body betrayed them. As he came completely flush against you, his cock pressed firmly against you, a rather large ridge in his jeans now and without thinking, you slid a hand down from his neck, shifted enough to sweep down along his chest, over his stomach, to that ridge, which you curved your hand about and gently squeezed.

He exhaled hard into your mouth and arched into your touch at the same time. The pressure against your hand was slow and steady, and you just wanted to unbuckle his belt, tug open the fly, and let your fingers roam over what you knew was thick, solid, utterly beautiful male flesh. 

You smiled as he shivered against you, as he thrust firmly against you and whispered, “We should go back to my place. It’s right across the street.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. I just told you I bought a house.” He drew back, his blue eyes almost sapphire, heavy-lidded, and promising you it would be absolutely worth falling into bed with him again. “So?”

You smiled. “Do I look dumb enough to do that again?”

He leaned in, sweeping his lips up along the side of your neck, to your ear, where he caught the lobe in gentle teeth and whispered, “I promise you, I’m not disappearing any time soon.”

“Liar.”

“No, I promise you,” he drew back and smiled, “I will. I’ll even call you first thing tomorrow. I mean, unless you’re still here tomorrow.”

Your stomach did a mighty flip at that. “Are you asking me to spend the night with you? We haven’t even left my brother’s yard yet.”

“I am and the key word is yet. I owe you.” He slid an arm about your waist to pull you up and away from the car. “We’ll get some takeaway and see what happens.”

“John, I’m not sleeping with you again.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

 “John.”

He bent to kiss you and as he did, your resolve melted. Maybe you were an idiot for doing this, but you didn't care. So, you let him catch you by the hand and you followed him across the street to the sage green ranch across the street. 

Once you were inside, John pulled you into his arms and his mouth crashed into yours. And in that moment, you were a goner. You melted into him, tugging his damp tee shirt up to slip your hands beneath it. His back was damp as well. It was hot as anything outside and you were both on the sweaty side. The AC hummed softly in the background, but the afternoon sun had poured in through the front bow window and the room was hot despite that AC.

His tongue thrust between your lips, teasing as it glided along yours. He curved his rough palms against your cheeks, angling your head ever so slightly to the right to give him better access, to allow him to deepen his kiss. You savored every last second of that deep, soulful kiss as it fired your blood and warmed you from the inside out. You flattened your hands against his back, the muscle like slabs of stone beneath his hot, smooth skin. 

Your back arched of its own, your breasts pressing firmly into his chest, your nipples responding to the contact by tightening into achy little beads. His hands fell away from your face, to the hem of your tank and he broke the kiss as he whisked that tank top up, a soft laugh dusting your lips as you raised your arms so he could strip it free and let it fall to the floor behind you.

Little by little, you tugged at each other’s clothes until the piles at your feet grew higher. He caught you around the waist to lift you easily and as he did, you wrapped your legs about his hips, both sighing as one when your softness ground firmly against his hardness. 

He lifted you just enough to capture a beaded nipple between his lips, flaying it with the tip of his tongue as he flicked it over that achy nub. Your core began the slow melt that had you aching for him, the heat between your thighs enough to warm the room further. He turned to press you against the wall, your eyes closing as he continued his sensual assault on your nipple, swirling his tongue about it, pulling it deeper into his mouth, flicking it just enough to make you suck in a hard breath. 

Your body ached for him just as it always did, when all you could think about was moments like this, with him. His touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac you’d ever known and he had the gift of knowing just how to touch you, how to stroke and tease you, until you were slick and hot and desperate for him.

That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. He was still your weakness and probably always would be and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to take him slow and deep until you both went mad with the need to come. 

He pulled away, his eyes smoked sapphires as they met yours. “I’ve missed you, love,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

“You knew where to find me,” you whispered back.

“I was a fucking coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He grinned. “But, you’re here now, so…”

With that, he reached between you and you felt him press up against you just hard enough to make tingles race through you.

“John!” His name burst from your lips as he then thrust and filled you with a long, silken stroke. You tightened about him instinctively, your fingernails biting into the back of his neck as he began thrusting. He moved with the slow assurance of a man who knew exactly how to make you melt, how to carefully bring you to that edge and hold you there, your body humming, your head spinning, your blood boiling as every fiber of your being tensed in anticipation of the fiery hot release of the perfect orgasm. 

This time was no different. Each thrust shoved you closer to that edge. You wrapped all around him, rocked your hips to meet those thrusts, a sense of triumph surging through you as he moaned low in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut for a long moment.

“Oh…” Your name bubbled to his lips, almost strangled as he thrust faster now. Pleasure spiraled through you, gentle at first, but it quickly grew. Hot. Sweet. Your thighs gripped his sides as you slid along the wall, as he drove powerfully into you. Bright lights danced before your eyes. Your head spun wildly from the sensual bliss coursing through you. You tightened about him, your climax taking root deep in your core, tensing and twisting as it wound through you. 

“John… oh… please…” You couldn’t hold back your plaintive moan, the need to come almost choking you now. You squeezed him, ground against him, met each thrust as best you could and then—

He crushed you between his body and the wall and you surrendered, melting at the sweet fire of mutual climax that had you clinging to him, throbbing around him, whispering his name as you tightened your arms about his neck.

John staggered back, sinking into the armchair just inside the front door and as he did, he cradled you against him, trembling beneath you as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. And I don’t want to miss you any more.”

You buried your face in his soft, dark hair, breathing in the clean eucalyptus scent of his shampoo, the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek against your all-too-sensitive skin. Your eyes closed, your heart slowed, your breath returned as you whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means, I want another chance with you.” He drew back slightly, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded and seductive, soft and tender. “So, what do you say?”

“Why should I, John?”

“Because you miss me? Because you want to be with me? Because I make your eyes cross and will do it on a regular basis?”

“I wanted all of that once and you left. How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I made a mistake when I left. The worst mistake I could’ve made. And I want to right that.”

You sat back carefully, mindful of the fact that your bodies were still joined, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And it would be messy, then. You carefully eased off him. “John, I—”

He pushed up from the chair, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted into the kitchen, coming back with a clean towel that he pressed into your hand. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t deny that. But, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, love. And the more I thought, the more I realized what I want. And what I want is you.”

“For now.”

“Forever.” He came up to catch you by the wrist, pulling the towel from you. “I love you. And I have for a long time.”

You stared up at him, his features softened by the darkness creeping in as night fell. Soft pops sounded in the distance. Firecrackers, no doubt. It was, after all, the Fourth of July. 

“John—”

“You have every reason to tell me to go to hell,” he said, drawing you into his arms once more. “But, I will prove myself to you somehow. I promise you, I will.”

You knew you should just get dressed and go back across the street, but the truth was, you’d missed him just as much. And you really did want to believe him.

But, what if…?

“John, what if you change your mind again?”

“I won’t,” he whispered, locking his fingers at the small of your back to hold you away from him. His eyes were honest, a slightly crooked grin played at his lips. “I promise you, I won’t. You’ll see.”

You sighed as the sky behind him lit up in flashes of purple and white and gold. You knew what your answer would be and perhaps it made you a fool, but you smiled just the same.

“I love you,” he added, drawing you close once more. “And I will prove it to you.”

“You better.” You reached up to brush a lock of spiky dark hair away from his forehead. “Because I love you back and I swear I will kick your ass if you’re just playing me, Sergeant Porter.”

He offered up a grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts. “Not sergeant, love. Just Mister. I’m a civilian now, and I promise you, I am not playing you. You’ll see.”

He tugged you back to him and as your lips met, and your eyes started to slip shut, more bursts of color erupted against the night sky as you melted against him once more. And as he tugged down onto the cool maple floor, those weren’t the only fireworks going off around you. 

***

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[middleearthpixie]

Lockdown

A/N: A Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover, part 4 

The police code here is one I found for my home state and while the first fifty ten-codes are generally used in all 50 states, they can still vary. I may have also taken a bit of license with what the procedure would be in the instance of a school shooting. 

10-20 - advise to location 

Summary:You and John Porter have broken up, but when tragedy hits a little close to home, you’re both rethinking your priorities

Characters: John Porter, Guy Gisborne, Reader, numerous eight graders 

Warnings: Some tension, hints of gun violence in a school setting

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,889

***

You sighed as you tapped your pen against the blank notebook page on the table in front of you. You were between classes, listening to the din coming from the hallways that was sixth, seventh, and eighth graders all changing classes. 

A yawn worked its way to your lips. You hadn’t been sleeping well and hadn’t been for weeks, now. Not since the night you and John broke up. You tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about him. But that was, of course, easier said than done. You’d met on a blind date set up by mutual friends who were a couple and so thought everyone should be paired off. Unlike most blind dates, this one ended on the highest of notes and in a blaze of sinful passion that was the start of one of the most wonderful relationships you’d ever had. 

Maybe you should have seen the end coming, but you didn’t. After all, he seemed so absolutely supportive of your decision to go back to school and get your Master’s in American History so you could maybe teach at the high school level as well. But then as your workload piled up and your free time shrank until it almost disappeared, it took its toll on both of you. You began fighting over the stupidest things, until finally, in a moment of utter frustration, you told him, “Look, we want different things I guess. Maybe we should just take a step back for now.”

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

To which he said, “Sounds good. Call me when you’ve decided you’ve got time for me again.”

With that parting shot, he stormed out of your apartment. It was the last time you saw or talked to him and that was almost six weeks ago. He’d left a couple of terse voicemails but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. You tried not to think about what he was doing. Angel told you over coffee a week ago that he’d started seeing someone else and both she and her fiancé, Guy hated this new woman. She and Guy were planning their wedding and trying, she’d confessed, to find a way to keep John’s new girlfriend from coming to it. That conversation left you dead inside. You were Angel’s maid of honor. You would have no choice but to see John with your replacement and the thought alone made you want to throw up. 

The bell rang and your students filed in, laughing, chatting, texting without looking up from their phones or bumping into anything—which amazed you as much as it horrified you—and as they took their seats, you stood. “Good morning! Phones away, we’ve got a lot to cover this morning, beginning with your paper topics. Have you all decided what you’re writing about?”

The voices rose as one loud buzz and you smiled. “Okay. Let me try that again. Who here does not have a topic yet?”

With that, the buzzing dulled and three hands went into the air. You smiled. “Okay. Lisa, Deja, and Tyler. Good. The rest of you, take a look the questions I’ve written on the board and start answering them. Lisa, why don’t you come up and we can talk about what you might want to do. Deja, next, and then Tyler.”

The others grumbled, and two of the girls took out their phones instead, to which you said, “Elena, Donna—up here with the phones and into the basket they go.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious, Donna. Let’s go.” You moved the wire basket that sat on the opposite corner of your desk to the other side of your desk. “You know the rules.”

They muttered under their breath, but each girl came up to drop her phone in the basket. “Anyone else think they might need to prevent themselves from becoming distracted?”

No one else moved and all phones went away. 

“Good. Now, get to work. Lisa, come on up and—”

The PA system crackled to life to interrupt you. “Good afternoon, students and staff. Brunswick High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, shut off all lights, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. This is not a drill. Again, Brunswick Hills High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. I repeat, this is not a drill.”  

You stood up. “You heard Principal Bailey. Phones off. Back corner, guys. And be quiet.” 

They stood almost as a unit and moved to the far corner of the room, where a low metal bookshelf stood just beneath the windows overlooking the courtyard. You skirted your desk to the door at the back of the room, pulled the shade, and then locked it, then flipped the lights off before moving to the door at the front of the room to lock it and pulled down that shade as well. Then, one by one, each window shade came down and the room sank into darkness.

It wasn’t a drill, but it also wasn't the first real lockdown you’d ever been through. Last year, there were two that wound up being nothing, so you weren’t really all that frightened. Your heart sped up a little, but you paid little attention to it as you moved over to where your students sat.

But then you heard it. 

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

The noises were faint, but enough to make you jump and none of you needed to be told what you heard. And your heart sped up as you looked at the thirteen and fourteen year old faces in the corner. They knew it as well. 

“Keep quiet,” you whispered, putting a forefinger to your lips. “I’m sure the police are on the way, if they aren’t already here, and—”

“That sounds awful close,” Deja whispered.

More popping sounds. Louder this time. 

You looked around your room. You were on the second floor. The courtyard could only be accessed by way of the first floor, there was no exterior way into it. There were two cabinets that could hold two, maybe three of your kids each. That left fourteen students that would be sitting ducks. 

The commotion in the hallway grew louder. Boots sounded. Voices rose. The popping grew louder. Lisa let out a squeak, and Tyler clapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her. 

“It’s okay, guys,” you said, your voice far calmer than you actually felt. But you couldn't let them see you were scared as well. If you were outwardly calm, they would remain calm as well, and that was important. You knew the drill. You were ready. 

Of course, being ready didn't mean you weren’t scared as all fuck, because in truth? Your hands would be shaking like crazy if they weren’t balled against your thighs. You had to at least appear calm to keep them from panicking. You looked at those scared faces around you, some of whom had pulled their phones out and were texting like mad now, and you were supposed to confiscate the devices, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Stories of previous school shootings flashed through your mind. Columbine. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Some of those texts were the last words their parents would ever hear. 

A shadow passed the back door. Your heart stopped beating as the door handle rattled. And rattled again. 

A hand caught yours. You looked over. Tyler. He was such a sweet kid. He was new to the school and hadn’t quite figured out where he fit in just yet, but the others in class liked him and little by little, he was beginning to bloom.

You put a finger to your lips. He nodded. 

The shadow moved.

To the front door. 

You’d never heard a gunshot up close. It rang out and deafened you for a moment as glass sprayed inwards. A hand came through the hole that used to be a window. 

“Stay down.” You whispered this as you got up. Your heart hammered your ribs hard enough that black dots actually danced before your eyes. You’d never been so terrified in your life, and would have thought you’d freeze in this moment.

But you didn't freeze. You looked over your shoulder at the kids who were instead frozen in place, phones forgotten even as text bubbles popped up on screen after screen. 

“If something happens, do whatever you can to protect yourselves,” you whispered. “The police are coming.”

The hand caught the lock and turned it and you stood there, just waiting, barely breathing. Barely hearing anything over the rush of your own blood through your veins, through your temples. You heart raced. Your mouth was beyond dry. 

You waited.

John’s blood roared through his ears as he and Guy pulled up to John F. Kennedy Middle School. SWAT was already there. Paramedics and ambulances were also already there, just in case. He and Guy really didn't need to be, but as soon as he heard the alert go out, all he could think about was getting to the school. 

About getting to you.

“Shit,” he muttered at the sheer number of responders. Police. Ambulances. All with their flashers going but without any accompanying sirens. This was his first time responding to an active shooter in a school situation and that it was your school… 

He wanted to vomit. 

“Come on,” Guy tugged the keys from the ignition and thrust open his door, “let’s at least see if we can get a status update.”

“I should have called her last night. I wanted to,” John said as he climbed out of the car. “And I can’t explain why, because she’s made it clear to me she doesn’t want to talk to me. But I just had the urge to call her.”

“She knows about Stephanie.” Guy slammed the driver’s side door shut. “Angel told her.”

“Knows what? There’s nothing to know. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.” At Guy’s long look, John shook his head. “She’s not. I’ve done nothing with her.”

“Really? Not even a kiss?”

John almost smiled at the disbelief in Guy’s voice. “Not even a kiss. It’s just not there for me. I’m not the least bit interested in kissing her or anyone else.” John moved around to the trunk and popped it, then bent over to fish out the kevlar vests with the reflective letters BHPD and Police on them. “Here.”

Guy took his and eased it over his head. “Then fucking call your teacher already, will you? You’re miserable. She’s miserable. And Angel’s pissed at both of you, which means I’m always running the risk of being miserable as well.”

John adjusted the Velcro on his vest. “Guy, I just told you—she doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve called her about half a dozen times since we broke up and have gotten only radio silence.”

The radio on his hip crackled. “We have the suspect pinned down. Second floor classroom. Two hundreds. He’s got a teacher and about fifteen kids trapped in a classroom. Over.”

Another voice came over. “Ten-twenty. Over.” 

“Room two-twelve. Over.”

Guy lifted his radio. “Unit Fifty-Seven reporting. We just arrived on scene. Status? Over.”

“Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by at this time. Repeat, Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by. We have officers in place. Over.”

“Copy.” Guy lowered the radio. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not fine. I want to storm in there and take this guy out and that I can’t is killing me, man. I have to trust these guys—” he gestured to all of the uniforms around them—“and that’s the last thing I’m really able to do right now. And what about you? You okay? I mean, Angel teaches here, too, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. But she took a personal day. Wedding stuff. So, right now, she is at any given mall in the state trying to find whatever it was she was trying to find and don’t ask me what because I have no idea.”

John couldn't ignore the way his gut bubbled. “Do you know if she’s doing this wedding stuff alone? Maybe she needed her maid of honor with her?”

Guy just gave him a look. “She’s here, John. Sorry, man. Angel is solo on this one.”

“Shit.” He peered over the top of their car at the officers swarming into the building. School shootings were something he simply was not used to, would never get used to, and he’d be lying if he said otherwise and it took every bit of will he had to remain where he was, because in reality, all he wanted was to get to you.

The gunshots rang out and both he and Guy spun towards the building’s north wing. Their radios went wild at that moment, with officers shouting over the pop!pop! of gunfire and then everything went horribly silent. 

“Officer requesting medical assistance to room two-twelve,” a voice crackled. “Gunman breached the classroom door and just began firing. Over.”

“Copy that. How many victims? Over.”

“Two, but injuries do not appear life threatening. Repeat, injuries do not appear life threatening.”

“And the suspect?”

“Killed at the scene.”

With that, the first responders flooded the building and John was right behind them. He had to see you, and to make sure you were okay. That was all that mattered. 

Everywhere, uniforms swarmed, escorting kids and adults out of classroom after classroom in a relatively orderly fashion. They were all oddly silent, at first, but once they were outside the building, and they caught sight of their parents or other family members, they bolted. Students hugged students Teachers hugged groups of students. Teachers hugged one another. By now, civilians cars—parents, no doubt—lined Maple Street and as kids ran out, parents swept in. Reunions were tearful, with other officers trying to keep parents from going into the building itself.

He took a step toward the building and Guy’s hand met the middle of his chest. “Porter, wait here.”

“No, I’m going in.”

“You’re not. You know the drill. We aren’t needed and we wait right here.” 

“But—”

“Right here, John.”

He glared at Guy. “Would you be waiting if it was Angel in there? Because you know you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Guy shook his head, “I wouldn’t. But you’d make damn sure I did and you know it. Now, I know it sucks, but we wait. Right here.”

John knocked Guy’s hand from his chest and stepped back. Guy was right and John knew it, but that did nothing to calm his nerves at all. He couldn't stand still. He paced. Along the sidewalk to the end and then back, where he said,“Any word?”

Guy could only shake his head. “Not yet. But, they haven’t called for any more medical assistance. Just for the two and those were non-life threatening injuries, so she’s probably fine.”

John didn't reply. The words stuck in his throat. All he could think about was the last conversation the two of you had. He was pissed off because you were supposed to go to dinner and you canceled because your reading for school was piling up and you had to get caught up. He’d acted like a spoiled git because you needed to catch up on things. And why did you need to do so?

Because he demanded you put him first. 

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

He sighed now. “I should’ve never walked out. I should have stayed there and insisted we work it out. Fuck.”

“What?”

He looked over at Guy. “We broke up because I was jealous. She was going back to school and all of the sudden didn't have any time for me—at least as I saw it. And I got mad. Told her to get her priorities straight, meaning put me first. She rightfully told me to fuck off and here we are and Christ, now here we are and I don’t know if she’s one of the injured and I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”

“Yeah, John,” Guy replied softly, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do…”

Your hands shook and Tyler tightened his about one of yours as he said, “We made it. We’re okay. It’s over.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat seized up as you looked first at the hand wrapped about yours, and then at the kids still in the classroom. Lisa. Deja. Donna. Tyler. Suriya. Elena. Nicole. Cameron. Dante. Gil. Samantha. Cody. Jaxon. Mackenzie. They were all there, alive and well and in one piece physically. They all looked shaken up, pale and so very young. But you managed to smile. “Text your parents,” you said softly. “Tell them you’re all okay.”

“Are you all all right?” An officer came into the room. “Is anyone injured?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head, tightened your hands into fists again to hold the shaking at bay. “We are all fine.”

“Okay. McMichaels,” he looked over his left shoulder, “escort them out to the main parking lot.”

“Got it.” A second uniform came into the room and you tried not to pay much attention to how they just stepped around the prone figure on the floor. Tried not to pay much attention to the blood pool that slowly widened under him. 

The gunman still lay on the floor, half in the classroom, half in the hallway. A small hole in the first window was the only evidence that a sharpshooter from across the courtyard had impressive aim.

“Come with me, guys,” you told them softly, catching Tyler’s hand to help him to his feet. “Don’t look at him. Just look straight ahead, okay? Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

They followed McMichaels, and you followed them and you tried to ignore the controlled chaos around you of paramedics and stretchers, of shattered glass, expended shell casings, and the lingering acrid scent you assumed was from the gunfire. 

“Right this way.” McMichaels led you down the main staircase and past the main office, out into a deceptively sunny, beautiful November afternoon.

As you stepped outside, you saw John and your heart stopped. You’d never been so happy, so relieved to see someone. He was pacing like a caged tiger, but then he stopped and spun about and as his steel-blue eyes met yours, he made a beeline for you.

“Thank Christ,” he growled as he swept you into his arms, crushing you close, one hand buried in your hair, his other arm so tight about you, you could barely breathe. “You’re all right, love? Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. My kids are fine and I’m fine,” you managed to grit before your throat tightened and your eyes overflowed. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms about his neck and clung to him, breathing in the sinful scent he always carried—sandalwood, eucalyptus, cinnamon.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back, squeezing you until you thought he might actually squash you. He lifted you off your feet briefly. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

“I’m okay,” you told him, sniffling as he set you down and you stepped back. “You didn't need to come—”

“Yeah, I did. As soon as the call came over, we were on our way.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs moving slightly along your cheeks in the soft caress that you loved so much. You just gazed up at him, at that handsome, angular face, into those pale blue eyes. He had a way of making you feel so tiny and delicate. Maybe it was his size—he was nearly six-foot-three and all broad shoulders and wide chest. Maybe it was that he was former military and just exuded that confidence about him. You didn’t know and you didn't care. All you knew was you’d missed him. 

“Can we talk?” he murmured. “I mean, once you’re cleared to leave?”

“Do we have anything to talk about?”

“I hope so. I’ve missed you.”

“Really.” You tried not to lose yourself in his beautiful blue eyes. “What about Stephanie?”

“She was a mistake. And will probably be very glad to never hear from me again because she knew my mind was on you the entire time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Guy. I’ve been miserable. I don’t like sleeping alone any more. But, trouble is, the only woman I want to sleep with is you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that. “John—”

“I was an asshole, love,” he broke in softly. “And I do hope you’ll give me another chance. I promise you, I will make it up to you.”

“John, I—” You sighed softly. “No, you weren’t an asshole. At least, not entirely. I was, too, and I’m sorry. I expected you to just sit and wait until I had time and that’s not fair to you, either.”

“So, why don’t we start over?” He leaned in to brush your lips with his. “Want to grab dinner or something tonight?”

You smiled. “I’d like that, yes.”

“Good.” He swept a light kiss against your lips once more, then as he straightened up, he said, “Come on, let’s get you away from here.”

“Please,” you said, shaking as your adrenaline finally slowed up and a sudden wave of utter exhaustion slammed over you, “I just really want to go home now. Go home and have a strong drink.”

“Are you okay? Do you need one of the medics?”

“I’m fine. Just shaken up. He never got into our room. He got the door opened and then a bullet came out of nowhere and—” The image flashed through your mind and you shuddered involuntarily, your gaze sweeping across the school lawns. You saw a few of your students still there, and your throat squeezed shut once more. “Thank God none of my kids was hurt.”

“From the looks of it, the injuries were all minor. You were all lucky.”

You nodded slowly. “I know, but still…”

“Come on.” He slid an arm about your shoulders and guided you away from the building, whose entrance was being cordoned off with crime scene tape. You had no idea how long it would be closed for, and you really didn't care at the moment. You just wanted to go home.

With John. 

***

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

[middleearthpixie]

Master List

So... I write things. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. If you'd like to be tagged in any of them, let me know!

Also, if you enjoy something, please reblog to your heart's content! Comments are always welcome as well!! <3

You can find my stories here and at AO3.

Fandoms I Write For:

Lord of The Rings - Boromir, Éomer, and Haldir (I've not tackled him yet, but want to. hee hee)

The Hobbit - Thorin, Dwalin, Frerin

And in the near future - The Boys - Billy Butcher

Please read my note on requests before submitting. 😉😀

Multi-Chapter Works

Damaged Goods - Ray Levine x ofc Theo Bailey (Stay Close AU) Complete

The Hobbit

~ Thorin ~

The Ties That Bind ~ Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives) - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

~ Completed Works ~

Something in the Night ~ Thorin x ofc Nina Carren (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Brilliant Disguise ~ Thorin x ofc Josephine (Sophie) Asharm (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

After the Fire ~ Thorin x ofc Jasna Stoneham (Post- BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Miss Fortune ~ Modern!Thorin x ofc Alex Prescott -

Playing With Fire ~ Modern!Thorin x ofc Leda Andrews - (Pub AU)

Where I Belong ~ Thorin x ofc Noelle James (modern NYC/DoS/BOTFA AU)

More Than Meets the Eye ~ Thorin x ofc Arielle Farran (Post- BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Thorin x ofc Seren Gilwynn (The Hobbit, Slight AU)

In Time ~ Thorin x ofc Amara (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

~ Frerin ~

Seven Days ~ Modern!Frerin x ofc Syd Prescott - Complete

Better Days ~ Modern!Frerin x ofc Elena Madison - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Lord of the Rings

~ Boromir ~

Promise Me ~ Boromir x ofc Gabriella (LOTR AU Where Everybody Lives) -Complete

Living Proof ~ Boromir x ofc Kaia (LOTR AU Where Everybody Lives) ~ Complete

Letter to You ~ Boromir x ofc Nora (LOTR AU Post-War of the Ring Where Boromir Lives)

One Shots/Drabbles/Shorts

~Miscellaneous Shorts~

How Will I Know ~ Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Kili, Fili, (Modern AU) ~ This ties loosely with In Time, and The Cellar & Other Stories.

~ Dwalin ~

(Oldest to Most Recent )

Durin's Garage AU - Good Trouble - Updated 10/25/2022 - This WILL be updated in the near future!

The One Where Zana & Dwalin Spend Their First Yule Together

The One Where Zana Faceplants

The One Where Dwalin is Totally NOT Jealous

Meet the Fundinsons

The Morning After

The Cellar

~ Thorin x Reader Inserts Master List ~

The Getaway -Modern!Thorin x reader

Monday - Modern!Thorin x reader

Durin's Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take - Modern!Thorin x reader

Yule - AU!Thorin x reader

~ Asks Master List ~

A Walk in the Woods - Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

Absolute Beginners ~ Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

In This Moment ~ Thorin x reader (Desolation of Smaug Slight AU)

Blind Date ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU

Stroll ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 2

Dessert ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 3

Lockdown ~ Guy of Gisborne/ John Porter Crossover AU Part 4

Cake ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 5

Hot Apple Cider ~ Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Fireworks ~ John Porter x Reader

The Fountain ~ Lindir x fem!reader

The Escape ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Escape, Part Two ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Harp ~ Thorin x fem!reader

Fair Enough ~ Éomer x fem!reader

~ Challenges Master List ~

The Courtyard - Dancing/Dipping Partner

A Kiss in the Rain - Kissing in the Rain

Bed of Roses - Rose Petals in the Bedroom

Showstopper ~ Modern!Bard x ofc Aislinn Dale (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022)

The River ~ Thorin x Fem!dwarf reader (Gates of Summer Exchange 2022)

A Bit of Home ~ Thorin x Fem!Reader (FotFic Pinup Calendar 2023)

Midsummer Night ~ Frerin x Belladonna Took (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023)

Long Walk Home ~ Boromir x ofc Eleri (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023)

The Woods ~ Boromir x ofc Kaia (Tolkien Pinup Calendar 2024)

Second Time Around ~ Boromir x ofc Brynne (Tolkien Pinup Calendar 2024)

The River ~ Fíli x ofc Vanessa Adams (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2024)

Two Hearts ~ Boromir x ofc Sarina (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2024)

~ Armitage Summer Splash Master List ~

WEEK 1

Make Me ~ Prompt #1 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Bygones ~ Prompt #2 ~ Lucas North

The Note ~ Prompt #3 ~ Ray Levine

The Other Woman ~ Prompt #4 ~ John Porter

In Vino Veritas ~ Prompt #5 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Now or Never ~ Prompt #6 ~ Ray Levine

Misunderstanding ~ Prompt #7 ~ John Thornton

WEEK 2

The Tavern ~ Prompt #8 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Brewster's Place ~ Prompt #9 ~ John Proctor

Runaway ~ Prompt #10 ~ Raymond de Merville

Middle Earth’s Next Top Model ~ Prompt #11 ~ Moodboard

Stolen Moments ~ Prompt #12 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Waiting ~ Prompt #13 ~ John Porter

Hurt ~ Prompt #14 ~ Lucas North

WEEK 3

The Lake ~ Prompt #15 ~ Raymond de Merville

The Visitor ~ Prompt #16 ~ John Proctor

Quiet ~ Prompt #17 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Angel ~ Prompt #18 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Inked ~ Prompt #19 ~ Lucas North

Vampire ~ Prompt #20 ~ Claude Becker Moodboard

Body Swap ~ Prompt #21 ~ Ray Levine Moodboard

WEEK 4

Family ~ Prompt #22 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Pizza - Prompt #23 ~ Raymond de Merville

Hit & Run ~ Prompt #24 ~ John Proctor

Fifty ~ Prompt #25 ~ Ray Levine

Leap of Faith ~ Prompt #26 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Homecoming ~ Prompt #27 ~ John Porter

Sweet Dreams ~ Prompt #28 ~ Lucas North

WEEK 5

Vacation ~ Prompt #29 ~ John Proctor Moodboard

Magic Kingdom - Prompt #30 ~ Raymond de Merville

[middleearthpixie]

Thank you for reblogging this!! 💜💜💜💜💜

I’m going to set a prompt for you. “Fireworks” for any of your works. Whichever you’re happiest to use.

It took me a while, but here it is... 💜

Fireworks

Summary:Your brother’s annual Fourth of July picnic brings with it a surprise you never saw coming - and brings John Porter unexpected back into your life.

Prompt: Fireworks

Characters: John Porter x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: unprotected sex 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,281

***

You stood in the doorway of your walk-in closet and frowned. Why was it when you actually had someplace to go, you never seemed to have anything to wear? The Murphy’s law of both fashion and being single, no doubt. 

 Although, why you really cared was a bit of a mystery. It was just your brother’s annual Fourth of July cookout and you already knew everyone on the guest list. But for some reason, you just wanted to look… good. 

Still, you didn't have all day to decide. The cookout started at two and you’d had to work, so it was already nearly seven now and if you waited any longer, there’d be no point in going at all.

That in mind, you finally settled on your old standby—jean shorts and a dark green tank top. Your hair almost behaved. Almost. So, up into a ponytail it went and not ten minutes later, you were easing your car to a stop behind your brother’s Ram 1500 pickup. There were a few cars parked in front of his house at the end of Maple Street, where the tall, leafy trees that gave the street its name showed the age of the neighborhood itself. During the day, shade splashed on both sides of the street and most of the cars parked along it took advantage of that shade. 

Music pumped from the backyard. Gabe was a big Beatles fan, and you recognized Sgt. Pepper and fought off a wince. As kids, he had this CD on loop and every morning, you woke up to the same refrain, you’d asked him to please, please, please play anything else and when he refused, you snuck into his room and stole the CD to bury in the backyard. 

But now, you didn't mind Sgt. Pepper so much as you lifted the latch to the gate and came around the corner, smiling and greeting the people you knew, the ones she saw at every one of Gabe’s gatherings.

“Hey, you made it!” 

Gabe was younger than you by almost four years and when you were kids, you couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without trying to kill each other. But, you weren’t kids any more and you didn't mind him so much since he’d finally grown up. He pressed a Sam Adams Porch Rocker into your hand and said, “I’ll throw a burger on for you if you want.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. No cheese, though.”

“No problem. Go and be friendly. It’ll be up win a few minutes.”

You looked around as he went back into the kitchen to get the burgers. Tiki torches flickered all around the yard’s perimeter and  Chairs were set up beneath towering maples and oaks and most of them were already occupied. Kids splashed in the in-ground pool, and you tried not to notice the bikinis around said pool. But, of course you did notice them and as you did, you vowed to work harder on your abs next gym session. A lie, of course. you hated doing abs, but as long as you made the promise, you felt better about the same. 

Before you could even make the attempt to go and be friendly, your sister-in-law Deena came up and wrapped you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in years. “I’m glad you finally got here,” she said, her voice low, “now, don’t be mad at me, but…”

“But what?” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Deena, what’s going on?”

“John’s here.”

“What?”

“I know, I know…Believe me, he heard about it, but” Deena held up both hands, palms out, “Gabe bumped into him and they got to talking and the next thing I know, he tells me he invited him.”

“Deena, are you kidding me?” You craned your neck to scan the huge backyard and it took you all of five seconds to find him, over near the clump of swamp maples to the left of the pool. There he was. 

John Porter.

Fuck.

It had been months since you’d last seen him, but as soon as your eyes alit on him, your entire body went hot. No one would ever blame me for that. After all, the man was hot. Tall, dark, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that promised all of the sinful delights the world had to offer and delivered so much more. He wasn't in your apartment more than ten minutes, there to pick you up for our first date, before you were naked on the sofa with him. You never even made it to the movie you’d planned to go see, which had been fine. He knew what he was doing and you’d take an orgasm over a stupid action movie any day of the week. And while you’d thought you’d never seen him again after that, you were wrong. In fact, you thought you were on the verge of something special, something that would last. 

You were falling in love.

You thought he was, as well. 

He worked for the British government and was only in the States temporarily. He’d gotten a call about a mission, couldn’t tell you what it was or where it would take him, only that he was leaving and he’d call you when he got back to the States.

That was last December. You were still waiting for that call.

Fucker.

“Oh, no,” Deena muttered. “Here he comes.”

“Wonderful.” You lifted the bottle to swallow half of it. A mistake, actually, as you hadn’t eaten and the beer went right to your head. 

“Hi there,” John said, his voice all casual, like you were work buddies or nothing more than casual acquaintances. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?” You managed to sound at least a little friendly. Or so you hoped. But the truth was, the butterflies were going wild in your stomach and the Porch Rocker had your head spinning more than a little and truth be told, just looking at him, all you could think about was tackling him somewhere. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until then.

And really, what you should’ve been thinking was junk punching him. He’d deserve it. 

“I’m good. I—uh—I retired at the end of May.”

“Retired? Really?”

He nodded, lifting his own bottle of Shock Top to his lips for a pull. He took two swallows then lowered it. “Yeah, I’m here now, doing some work for your government now instead.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough that I bought a house.”

That was something you hadn’t expected him to say. “You-you bought a house. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s not huge and there’s more grass than I real care to mow, but I’m adjusting. The worst part is you all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would be you.” 

He smiled, then glanced at Deena before looking back at you. “Look, can we talk?”

“Talk? What about?” You took another sip of your beer like you had no idea what he might want to talk to me about. Playing it cool. 

“I’m going to go see if Gabe needs any help.” Deena gestured toward the Coleman coolers up against the back of the house. “Beer’s in the red cooler, sodas and water are in the blue cooler.” 

Deena darted off, leaving you up on the deck with John, trying to remember why it was you didn't want to go off alone with him anywhere. Nothing good could come of it. It just couldn’t. 

He waited until Deena went back inside. “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

A knowing look came to his face, accompanied by a slightly crooked grin that made your insides twist immediately. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, right. You were going to call me, weren’t you, when you were stateside again?”

“Yeah, I was, but I ended up in the Middle East for months and couldn’t call from there because I couldn't give my location away. When I finally got back to London, I decided I’d had enough. I’d worked with a few Americans over there and was offered a job that paid better, had less travel, so I put in for my retirement and when I came back to the States, I figured too much time had passed and you were probably fairly angry with me, and rightfully so and I know that’s lame, but it’s the truth.”

You really didn't want to believe him, but he sounded sincere enough. And maybe you were being a fool, but you still cared about him, still missed him, and—if you were completely honest with yourself—you will loved him. Not a day went by when you didn't think about him, or didn’t worry about him, even if you would have cheerfully strangled him yourself.

And now, you had the opportunity at a second chance with him. Maybe you were being a fool, but… how often did one get a second chance?

With that, you sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, we can talk.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the side of Gabe’s pale yellow ranch house. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“You know Gabe.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. And his wife keeps giving me the stink-eye.”

You smiled. “She’s one of my best friends, so you’re lucky the stink-eye is all she’s giving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

You knew better, but you let him lead you around to the front of the house. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m still living out of boxes, more or less. Not much in the way of spare time since I got here.”

“But you had time for a cookout.”

“Who turns down free food?” He looked over at you and grinned.

That grin made your insides do a slow melt. Did he have any idea what he promised with only a smile? You remembered all too well what that smile did to you the first time. He’d leaned in and kissed you and that was it. The next thing you knew, you were tugging his cream-colored sweater over his head ad then wrestling with his belt while he had you naked in record time. And that was only the beginning. It only got better from there. 

Your nipples contracted on cue. Heat swept through you now and it had nothing to do with it being the middle of the summer. John Porter just oozed sex. Oozed sex, reeked of danger, and had a face that would make an angle commit any sin he asked. 

And sinning with him seemed mighty good right about now.

Wait? What?

No, you weren’t going there again. You knew you should go back to the house, and drown your sorrows in Porch Rockers, cheeseburgers, and chips, because standing there, with him, at the foot of Gabe’s driveway, was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. Your body remembered all too well what the man standing before could do, what he did do, and it was enough to make you already feel more than a little dampness between your legs. 

No man had ever had that power over you. But John did. And you had the feeling he knew it. Especially when you looked up and found him just watching you, his blue eyes glinting with something akin to promise.

He knew.

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just glad I decided to come.”

As he spoke, he stepped up closer to you. You instinctively stepped back, smack up against the side of your car. “John… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He took another step toward you. “We were good together. We should give it another shot.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we definitely should not give it another shot. I learned the hard way about that.”

“I was a shit and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“John.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m falling for this again.”

“I live right there,” he gestured with one hand over his right shoulder, “so why don’t we forget this cookout and make a few fireworks of our own and see if I can’t convince you how good we are together?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“That’s okay,” his grin widened, “you don’t have to like me. I like you enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Come on, admit it. You like me.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“Sure you do.” He stepped closer and you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up. He towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You relented then and sighed. “Okay, so you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“I knew it.” He bent to you and your heart quickened as his lips just barely brushed yours and he whispered, “I am sorry I didn't call you when I got back,” just before he claimed your lips in a soft kiss.

You sank back against your car as his mouth moved against yours, as his arm slid easily about your waist, as his body pressed up against you. His lips were warm and dry and soft, his tongue hot and silken as it eased between your lips to trace along yours. 

He came flush against you. You’d forgotten how solid he was, how muscled. He might not be in the military any longer, but he certainly didn't get lazy as a result. You melted against him, winding your arms about his neck. Your fingers crept up into his hair. It was short and bristly along his nape, but as they stretched higher, it grew softer. 

John shifted slightly, easing a thigh between yours and you couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth at the sensual friction it created. He pressed up into the apex of your thighs, sliding it along you as he did. Heat pooled where he met you, the cotton lining of your thong already damp. Damn it, he was one of those men who just knew how to touch you to get your motor humming, how to warm you up and make you almost drip with desire. Your core did a slow, teasing melt, the ache sweet and aggravating at the same time. 

But, you weren’t the only one whose body betrayed them. As he came completely flush against you, his cock pressed firmly against you, a rather large ridge in his jeans now and without thinking, you slid a hand down from his neck, shifted enough to sweep down along his chest, over his stomach, to that ridge, which you curved your hand about and gently squeezed.

He exhaled hard into your mouth and arched into your touch at the same time. The pressure against your hand was slow and steady, and you just wanted to unbuckle his belt, tug open the fly, and let your fingers roam over what you knew was thick, solid, utterly beautiful male flesh. 

You smiled as he shivered against you, as he thrust firmly against you and whispered, “We should go back to my place. It’s right across the street.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. I just told you I bought a house.” He drew back, his blue eyes almost sapphire, heavy-lidded, and promising you it would be absolutely worth falling into bed with him again. “So?”

You smiled. “Do I look dumb enough to do that again?”

He leaned in, sweeping his lips up along the side of your neck, to your ear, where he caught the lobe in gentle teeth and whispered, “I promise you, I’m not disappearing any time soon.”

“Liar.”

“No, I promise you,” he drew back and smiled, “I will. I’ll even call you first thing tomorrow. I mean, unless you’re still here tomorrow.”

Your stomach did a mighty flip at that. “Are you asking me to spend the night with you? We haven’t even left my brother’s yard yet.”

“I am and the key word is yet. I owe you.” He slid an arm about your waist to pull you up and away from the car. “We’ll get some takeaway and see what happens.”

“John, I’m not sleeping with you again.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

 “John.”

He bent to kiss you and as he did, your resolve melted. Maybe you were an idiot for doing this, but you didn't care. So, you let him catch you by the hand and you followed him across the street to the sage green ranch across the street. 

Once you were inside, John pulled you into his arms and his mouth crashed into yours. And in that moment, you were a goner. You melted into him, tugging his damp tee shirt up to slip your hands beneath it. His back was damp as well. It was hot as anything outside and you were both on the sweaty side. The AC hummed softly in the background, but the afternoon sun had poured in through the front bow window and the room was hot despite that AC.

His tongue thrust between your lips, teasing as it glided along yours. He curved his rough palms against your cheeks, angling your head ever so slightly to the right to give him better access, to allow him to deepen his kiss. You savored every last second of that deep, soulful kiss as it fired your blood and warmed you from the inside out. You flattened your hands against his back, the muscle like slabs of stone beneath his hot, smooth skin. 

Your back arched of its own, your breasts pressing firmly into his chest, your nipples responding to the contact by tightening into achy little beads. His hands fell away from your face, to the hem of your tank and he broke the kiss as he whisked that tank top up, a soft laugh dusting your lips as you raised your arms so he could strip it free and let it fall to the floor behind you.

Little by little, you tugged at each other’s clothes until the piles at your feet grew higher. He caught you around the waist to lift you easily and as he did, you wrapped your legs about his hips, both sighing as one when your softness ground firmly against his hardness. 

He lifted you just enough to capture a beaded nipple between his lips, flaying it with the tip of his tongue as he flicked it over that achy nub. Your core began the slow melt that had you aching for him, the heat between your thighs enough to warm the room further. He turned to press you against the wall, your eyes closing as he continued his sensual assault on your nipple, swirling his tongue about it, pulling it deeper into his mouth, flicking it just enough to make you suck in a hard breath. 

Your body ached for him just as it always did, when all you could think about was moments like this, with him. His touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac you’d ever known and he had the gift of knowing just how to touch you, how to stroke and tease you, until you were slick and hot and desperate for him.

That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. He was still your weakness and probably always would be and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to take him slow and deep until you both went mad with the need to come. 

He pulled away, his eyes smoked sapphires as they met yours. “I’ve missed you, love,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

“You knew where to find me,” you whispered back.

“I was a fucking coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He grinned. “But, you’re here now, so…”

With that, he reached between you and you felt him press up against you just hard enough to make tingles race through you.

“John!” His name burst from your lips as he then thrust and filled you with a long, silken stroke. You tightened about him instinctively, your fingernails biting into the back of his neck as he began thrusting. He moved with the slow assurance of a man who knew exactly how to make you melt, how to carefully bring you to that edge and hold you there, your body humming, your head spinning, your blood boiling as every fiber of your being tensed in anticipation of the fiery hot release of the perfect orgasm. 

This time was no different. Each thrust shoved you closer to that edge. You wrapped all around him, rocked your hips to meet those thrusts, a sense of triumph surging through you as he moaned low in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut for a long moment.

“Oh…” Your name bubbled to his lips, almost strangled as he thrust faster now. Pleasure spiraled through you, gentle at first, but it quickly grew. Hot. Sweet. Your thighs gripped his sides as you slid along the wall, as he drove powerfully into you. Bright lights danced before your eyes. Your head spun wildly from the sensual bliss coursing through you. You tightened about him, your climax taking root deep in your core, tensing and twisting as it wound through you. 

“John… oh… please…” You couldn’t hold back your plaintive moan, the need to come almost choking you now. You squeezed him, ground against him, met each thrust as best you could and then—

He crushed you between his body and the wall and you surrendered, melting at the sweet fire of mutual climax that had you clinging to him, throbbing around him, whispering his name as you tightened your arms about his neck.

John staggered back, sinking into the armchair just inside the front door and as he did, he cradled you against him, trembling beneath you as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. And I don’t want to miss you any more.”

You buried your face in his soft, dark hair, breathing in the clean eucalyptus scent of his shampoo, the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek against your all-too-sensitive skin. Your eyes closed, your heart slowed, your breath returned as you whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means, I want another chance with you.” He drew back slightly, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded and seductive, soft and tender. “So, what do you say?”

“Why should I, John?”

“Because you miss me? Because you want to be with me? Because I make your eyes cross and will do it on a regular basis?”

“I wanted all of that once and you left. How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I made a mistake when I left. The worst mistake I could’ve made. And I want to right that.”

You sat back carefully, mindful of the fact that your bodies were still joined, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And it would be messy, then. You carefully eased off him. “John, I—”

He pushed up from the chair, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted into the kitchen, coming back with a clean towel that he pressed into your hand. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t deny that. But, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, love. And the more I thought, the more I realized what I want. And what I want is you.”

“For now.”

“Forever.” He came up to catch you by the wrist, pulling the towel from you. “I love you. And I have for a long time.”

You stared up at him, his features softened by the darkness creeping in as night fell. Soft pops sounded in the distance. Firecrackers, no doubt. It was, after all, the Fourth of July. 

“John—”

“You have every reason to tell me to go to hell,” he said, drawing you into his arms once more. “But, I will prove myself to you somehow. I promise you, I will.”

You knew you should just get dressed and go back across the street, but the truth was, you’d missed him just as much. And you really did want to believe him.

But, what if…?

“John, what if you change your mind again?”

“I won’t,” he whispered, locking his fingers at the small of your back to hold you away from him. His eyes were honest, a slightly crooked grin played at his lips. “I promise you, I won’t. You’ll see.”

You sighed as the sky behind him lit up in flashes of purple and white and gold. You knew what your answer would be and perhaps it made you a fool, but you smiled just the same.

“I love you,” he added, drawing you close once more. “And I will prove it to you.”

“You better.” You reached up to brush a lock of spiky dark hair away from his forehead. “Because I love you back and I swear I will kick your ass if you’re just playing me, Sergeant Porter.”

He offered up a grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts. “Not sergeant, love. Just Mister. I’m a civilian now, and I promise you, I am not playing you. You’ll see.”

He tugged you back to him and as your lips met, and your eyes started to slip shut, more bursts of color erupted against the night sky as you melted against him once more. And as he tugged down onto the cool maple floor, those weren’t the only fireworks going off around you. 

***

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Lockdown

A/N: A Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover, part 4 

The police code here is one I found for my home state and while the first fifty ten-codes are generally used in all 50 states, they can still vary. I may have also taken a bit of license with what the procedure would be in the instance of a school shooting. 

10-20 - advise to location 

Summary:You and John Porter have broken up, but when tragedy hits a little close to home, you’re both rethinking your priorities

Characters: John Porter, Guy Gisborne, Reader, numerous eight graders 

Warnings: Some tension, hints of gun violence in a school setting

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,889

***

You sighed as you tapped your pen against the blank notebook page on the table in front of you. You were between classes, listening to the din coming from the hallways that was sixth, seventh, and eighth graders all changing classes. 

A yawn worked its way to your lips. You hadn’t been sleeping well and hadn’t been for weeks, now. Not since the night you and John broke up. You tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about him. But that was, of course, easier said than done. You’d met on a blind date set up by mutual friends who were a couple and so thought everyone should be paired off. Unlike most blind dates, this one ended on the highest of notes and in a blaze of sinful passion that was the start of one of the most wonderful relationships you’d ever had. 

Maybe you should have seen the end coming, but you didn’t. After all, he seemed so absolutely supportive of your decision to go back to school and get your Master’s in American History so you could maybe teach at the high school level as well. But then as your workload piled up and your free time shrank until it almost disappeared, it took its toll on both of you. You began fighting over the stupidest things, until finally, in a moment of utter frustration, you told him, “Look, we want different things I guess. Maybe we should just take a step back for now.”

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

To which he said, “Sounds good. Call me when you’ve decided you’ve got time for me again.”

With that parting shot, he stormed out of your apartment. It was the last time you saw or talked to him and that was almost six weeks ago. He’d left a couple of terse voicemails but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. You tried not to think about what he was doing. Angel told you over coffee a week ago that he’d started seeing someone else and both she and her fiancé, Guy hated this new woman. She and Guy were planning their wedding and trying, she’d confessed, to find a way to keep John’s new girlfriend from coming to it. That conversation left you dead inside. You were Angel’s maid of honor. You would have no choice but to see John with your replacement and the thought alone made you want to throw up. 

The bell rang and your students filed in, laughing, chatting, texting without looking up from their phones or bumping into anything—which amazed you as much as it horrified you—and as they took their seats, you stood. “Good morning! Phones away, we’ve got a lot to cover this morning, beginning with your paper topics. Have you all decided what you’re writing about?”

The voices rose as one loud buzz and you smiled. “Okay. Let me try that again. Who here does not have a topic yet?”

With that, the buzzing dulled and three hands went into the air. You smiled. “Okay. Lisa, Deja, and Tyler. Good. The rest of you, take a look the questions I’ve written on the board and start answering them. Lisa, why don’t you come up and we can talk about what you might want to do. Deja, next, and then Tyler.”

The others grumbled, and two of the girls took out their phones instead, to which you said, “Elena, Donna—up here with the phones and into the basket they go.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious, Donna. Let’s go.” You moved the wire basket that sat on the opposite corner of your desk to the other side of your desk. “You know the rules.”

They muttered under their breath, but each girl came up to drop her phone in the basket. “Anyone else think they might need to prevent themselves from becoming distracted?”

No one else moved and all phones went away. 

“Good. Now, get to work. Lisa, come on up and—”

The PA system crackled to life to interrupt you. “Good afternoon, students and staff. Brunswick High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, shut off all lights, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. This is not a drill. Again, Brunswick Hills High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. I repeat, this is not a drill.”  

You stood up. “You heard Principal Bailey. Phones off. Back corner, guys. And be quiet.” 

They stood almost as a unit and moved to the far corner of the room, where a low metal bookshelf stood just beneath the windows overlooking the courtyard. You skirted your desk to the door at the back of the room, pulled the shade, and then locked it, then flipped the lights off before moving to the door at the front of the room to lock it and pulled down that shade as well. Then, one by one, each window shade came down and the room sank into darkness.

It wasn’t a drill, but it also wasn't the first real lockdown you’d ever been through. Last year, there were two that wound up being nothing, so you weren’t really all that frightened. Your heart sped up a little, but you paid little attention to it as you moved over to where your students sat.

But then you heard it. 

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

The noises were faint, but enough to make you jump and none of you needed to be told what you heard. And your heart sped up as you looked at the thirteen and fourteen year old faces in the corner. They knew it as well. 

“Keep quiet,” you whispered, putting a forefinger to your lips. “I’m sure the police are on the way, if they aren’t already here, and—”

“That sounds awful close,” Deja whispered.

More popping sounds. Louder this time. 

You looked around your room. You were on the second floor. The courtyard could only be accessed by way of the first floor, there was no exterior way into it. There were two cabinets that could hold two, maybe three of your kids each. That left fourteen students that would be sitting ducks. 

The commotion in the hallway grew louder. Boots sounded. Voices rose. The popping grew louder. Lisa let out a squeak, and Tyler clapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her. 

“It’s okay, guys,” you said, your voice far calmer than you actually felt. But you couldn't let them see you were scared as well. If you were outwardly calm, they would remain calm as well, and that was important. You knew the drill. You were ready. 

Of course, being ready didn't mean you weren’t scared as all fuck, because in truth? Your hands would be shaking like crazy if they weren’t balled against your thighs. You had to at least appear calm to keep them from panicking. You looked at those scared faces around you, some of whom had pulled their phones out and were texting like mad now, and you were supposed to confiscate the devices, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Stories of previous school shootings flashed through your mind. Columbine. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Some of those texts were the last words their parents would ever hear. 

A shadow passed the back door. Your heart stopped beating as the door handle rattled. And rattled again. 

A hand caught yours. You looked over. Tyler. He was such a sweet kid. He was new to the school and hadn’t quite figured out where he fit in just yet, but the others in class liked him and little by little, he was beginning to bloom.

You put a finger to your lips. He nodded. 

The shadow moved.

To the front door. 

You’d never heard a gunshot up close. It rang out and deafened you for a moment as glass sprayed inwards. A hand came through the hole that used to be a window. 

“Stay down.” You whispered this as you got up. Your heart hammered your ribs hard enough that black dots actually danced before your eyes. You’d never been so terrified in your life, and would have thought you’d freeze in this moment.

But you didn't freeze. You looked over your shoulder at the kids who were instead frozen in place, phones forgotten even as text bubbles popped up on screen after screen. 

“If something happens, do whatever you can to protect yourselves,” you whispered. “The police are coming.”

The hand caught the lock and turned it and you stood there, just waiting, barely breathing. Barely hearing anything over the rush of your own blood through your veins, through your temples. You heart raced. Your mouth was beyond dry. 

You waited.

John’s blood roared through his ears as he and Guy pulled up to John F. Kennedy Middle School. SWAT was already there. Paramedics and ambulances were also already there, just in case. He and Guy really didn't need to be, but as soon as he heard the alert go out, all he could think about was getting to the school. 

About getting to you.

“Shit,” he muttered at the sheer number of responders. Police. Ambulances. All with their flashers going but without any accompanying sirens. This was his first time responding to an active shooter in a school situation and that it was your school… 

He wanted to vomit. 

“Come on,” Guy tugged the keys from the ignition and thrust open his door, “let’s at least see if we can get a status update.”

“I should have called her last night. I wanted to,” John said as he climbed out of the car. “And I can’t explain why, because she’s made it clear to me she doesn’t want to talk to me. But I just had the urge to call her.”

“She knows about Stephanie.” Guy slammed the driver’s side door shut. “Angel told her.”

“Knows what? There’s nothing to know. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.” At Guy’s long look, John shook his head. “She’s not. I’ve done nothing with her.”

“Really? Not even a kiss?”

John almost smiled at the disbelief in Guy’s voice. “Not even a kiss. It’s just not there for me. I’m not the least bit interested in kissing her or anyone else.” John moved around to the trunk and popped it, then bent over to fish out the kevlar vests with the reflective letters BHPD and Police on them. “Here.”

Guy took his and eased it over his head. “Then fucking call your teacher already, will you? You’re miserable. She’s miserable. And Angel’s pissed at both of you, which means I’m always running the risk of being miserable as well.”

John adjusted the Velcro on his vest. “Guy, I just told you—she doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve called her about half a dozen times since we broke up and have gotten only radio silence.”

The radio on his hip crackled. “We have the suspect pinned down. Second floor classroom. Two hundreds. He’s got a teacher and about fifteen kids trapped in a classroom. Over.”

Another voice came over. “Ten-twenty. Over.” 

“Room two-twelve. Over.”

Guy lifted his radio. “Unit Fifty-Seven reporting. We just arrived on scene. Status? Over.”

“Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by at this time. Repeat, Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by. We have officers in place. Over.”

“Copy.” Guy lowered the radio. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not fine. I want to storm in there and take this guy out and that I can’t is killing me, man. I have to trust these guys—” he gestured to all of the uniforms around them—“and that’s the last thing I’m really able to do right now. And what about you? You okay? I mean, Angel teaches here, too, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. But she took a personal day. Wedding stuff. So, right now, she is at any given mall in the state trying to find whatever it was she was trying to find and don’t ask me what because I have no idea.”

John couldn't ignore the way his gut bubbled. “Do you know if she’s doing this wedding stuff alone? Maybe she needed her maid of honor with her?”

Guy just gave him a look. “She’s here, John. Sorry, man. Angel is solo on this one.”

“Shit.” He peered over the top of their car at the officers swarming into the building. School shootings were something he simply was not used to, would never get used to, and he’d be lying if he said otherwise and it took every bit of will he had to remain where he was, because in reality, all he wanted was to get to you.

The gunshots rang out and both he and Guy spun towards the building’s north wing. Their radios went wild at that moment, with officers shouting over the pop!pop! of gunfire and then everything went horribly silent. 

“Officer requesting medical assistance to room two-twelve,” a voice crackled. “Gunman breached the classroom door and just began firing. Over.”

“Copy that. How many victims? Over.”

“Two, but injuries do not appear life threatening. Repeat, injuries do not appear life threatening.”

“And the suspect?”

“Killed at the scene.”

With that, the first responders flooded the building and John was right behind them. He had to see you, and to make sure you were okay. That was all that mattered. 

Everywhere, uniforms swarmed, escorting kids and adults out of classroom after classroom in a relatively orderly fashion. They were all oddly silent, at first, but once they were outside the building, and they caught sight of their parents or other family members, they bolted. Students hugged students Teachers hugged groups of students. Teachers hugged one another. By now, civilians cars—parents, no doubt—lined Maple Street and as kids ran out, parents swept in. Reunions were tearful, with other officers trying to keep parents from going into the building itself.

He took a step toward the building and Guy’s hand met the middle of his chest. “Porter, wait here.”

“No, I’m going in.”

“You’re not. You know the drill. We aren’t needed and we wait right here.” 

“But—”

“Right here, John.”

He glared at Guy. “Would you be waiting if it was Angel in there? Because you know you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Guy shook his head, “I wouldn’t. But you’d make damn sure I did and you know it. Now, I know it sucks, but we wait. Right here.”

John knocked Guy’s hand from his chest and stepped back. Guy was right and John knew it, but that did nothing to calm his nerves at all. He couldn't stand still. He paced. Along the sidewalk to the end and then back, where he said,“Any word?”

Guy could only shake his head. “Not yet. But, they haven’t called for any more medical assistance. Just for the two and those were non-life threatening injuries, so she’s probably fine.”

John didn't reply. The words stuck in his throat. All he could think about was the last conversation the two of you had. He was pissed off because you were supposed to go to dinner and you canceled because your reading for school was piling up and you had to get caught up. He’d acted like a spoiled git because you needed to catch up on things. And why did you need to do so?

Because he demanded you put him first. 

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

He sighed now. “I should’ve never walked out. I should have stayed there and insisted we work it out. Fuck.”

“What?”

He looked over at Guy. “We broke up because I was jealous. She was going back to school and all of the sudden didn't have any time for me—at least as I saw it. And I got mad. Told her to get her priorities straight, meaning put me first. She rightfully told me to fuck off and here we are and Christ, now here we are and I don’t know if she’s one of the injured and I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”

“Yeah, John,” Guy replied softly, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do…”

Your hands shook and Tyler tightened his about one of yours as he said, “We made it. We’re okay. It’s over.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat seized up as you looked first at the hand wrapped about yours, and then at the kids still in the classroom. Lisa. Deja. Donna. Tyler. Suriya. Elena. Nicole. Cameron. Dante. Gil. Samantha. Cody. Jaxon. Mackenzie. They were all there, alive and well and in one piece physically. They all looked shaken up, pale and so very young. But you managed to smile. “Text your parents,” you said softly. “Tell them you’re all okay.”

“Are you all all right?” An officer came into the room. “Is anyone injured?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head, tightened your hands into fists again to hold the shaking at bay. “We are all fine.”

“Okay. McMichaels,” he looked over his left shoulder, “escort them out to the main parking lot.”

“Got it.” A second uniform came into the room and you tried not to pay much attention to how they just stepped around the prone figure on the floor. Tried not to pay much attention to the blood pool that slowly widened under him. 

The gunman still lay on the floor, half in the classroom, half in the hallway. A small hole in the first window was the only evidence that a sharpshooter from across the courtyard had impressive aim.

“Come with me, guys,” you told them softly, catching Tyler’s hand to help him to his feet. “Don’t look at him. Just look straight ahead, okay? Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

They followed McMichaels, and you followed them and you tried to ignore the controlled chaos around you of paramedics and stretchers, of shattered glass, expended shell casings, and the lingering acrid scent you assumed was from the gunfire. 

“Right this way.” McMichaels led you down the main staircase and past the main office, out into a deceptively sunny, beautiful November afternoon.

As you stepped outside, you saw John and your heart stopped. You’d never been so happy, so relieved to see someone. He was pacing like a caged tiger, but then he stopped and spun about and as his steel-blue eyes met yours, he made a beeline for you.

“Thank Christ,” he growled as he swept you into his arms, crushing you close, one hand buried in your hair, his other arm so tight about you, you could barely breathe. “You’re all right, love? Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. My kids are fine and I’m fine,” you managed to grit before your throat tightened and your eyes overflowed. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms about his neck and clung to him, breathing in the sinful scent he always carried—sandalwood, eucalyptus, cinnamon.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back, squeezing you until you thought he might actually squash you. He lifted you off your feet briefly. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

“I’m okay,” you told him, sniffling as he set you down and you stepped back. “You didn't need to come—”

“Yeah, I did. As soon as the call came over, we were on our way.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs moving slightly along your cheeks in the soft caress that you loved so much. You just gazed up at him, at that handsome, angular face, into those pale blue eyes. He had a way of making you feel so tiny and delicate. Maybe it was his size—he was nearly six-foot-three and all broad shoulders and wide chest. Maybe it was that he was former military and just exuded that confidence about him. You didn’t know and you didn't care. All you knew was you’d missed him. 

“Can we talk?” he murmured. “I mean, once you’re cleared to leave?”

“Do we have anything to talk about?”

“I hope so. I’ve missed you.”

“Really.” You tried not to lose yourself in his beautiful blue eyes. “What about Stephanie?”

“She was a mistake. And will probably be very glad to never hear from me again because she knew my mind was on you the entire time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Guy. I’ve been miserable. I don’t like sleeping alone any more. But, trouble is, the only woman I want to sleep with is you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that. “John—”

“I was an asshole, love,” he broke in softly. “And I do hope you’ll give me another chance. I promise you, I will make it up to you.”

“John, I—” You sighed softly. “No, you weren’t an asshole. At least, not entirely. I was, too, and I’m sorry. I expected you to just sit and wait until I had time and that’s not fair to you, either.”

“So, why don’t we start over?” He leaned in to brush your lips with his. “Want to grab dinner or something tonight?”

You smiled. “I’d like that, yes.”

“Good.” He swept a light kiss against your lips once more, then as he straightened up, he said, “Come on, let’s get you away from here.”

“Please,” you said, shaking as your adrenaline finally slowed up and a sudden wave of utter exhaustion slammed over you, “I just really want to go home now. Go home and have a strong drink.”

“Are you okay? Do you need one of the medics?”

“I’m fine. Just shaken up. He never got into our room. He got the door opened and then a bullet came out of nowhere and—” The image flashed through your mind and you shuddered involuntarily, your gaze sweeping across the school lawns. You saw a few of your students still there, and your throat squeezed shut once more. “Thank God none of my kids was hurt.”

“From the looks of it, the injuries were all minor. You were all lucky.”

You nodded slowly. “I know, but still…”

“Come on.” He slid an arm about your shoulders and guided you away from the building, whose entrance was being cordoned off with crime scene tape. You had no idea how long it would be closed for, and you really didn't care at the moment. You just wanted to go home.

With John. 

***

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

[laurfilijames]

Oh, I love me a persistant man 😈🔥

This was delightfully steamy!

I’m going to set a prompt for you. “Fireworks” for any of your works. Whichever you’re happiest to use.

It took me a while, but here it is... 💜

Fireworks

Summary:Your brother’s annual Fourth of July picnic brings with it a surprise you never saw coming - and brings John Porter unexpected back into your life.

Prompt: Fireworks

Characters: John Porter x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: unprotected sex 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,281

***

You stood in the doorway of your walk-in closet and frowned. Why was it when you actually had someplace to go, you never seemed to have anything to wear? The Murphy’s law of both fashion and being single, no doubt. 

 Although, why you really cared was a bit of a mystery. It was just your brother’s annual Fourth of July cookout and you already knew everyone on the guest list. But for some reason, you just wanted to look… good. 

Still, you didn't have all day to decide. The cookout started at two and you’d had to work, so it was already nearly seven now and if you waited any longer, there’d be no point in going at all.

That in mind, you finally settled on your old standby—jean shorts and a dark green tank top. Your hair almost behaved. Almost. So, up into a ponytail it went and not ten minutes later, you were easing your car to a stop behind your brother’s Ram 1500 pickup. There were a few cars parked in front of his house at the end of Maple Street, where the tall, leafy trees that gave the street its name showed the age of the neighborhood itself. During the day, shade splashed on both sides of the street and most of the cars parked along it took advantage of that shade. 

Music pumped from the backyard. Gabe was a big Beatles fan, and you recognized Sgt. Pepper and fought off a wince. As kids, he had this CD on loop and every morning, you woke up to the same refrain, you’d asked him to please, please, please play anything else and when he refused, you snuck into his room and stole the CD to bury in the backyard. 

But now, you didn't mind Sgt. Pepper so much as you lifted the latch to the gate and came around the corner, smiling and greeting the people you knew, the ones she saw at every one of Gabe’s gatherings.

“Hey, you made it!” 

Gabe was younger than you by almost four years and when you were kids, you couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without trying to kill each other. But, you weren’t kids any more and you didn't mind him so much since he’d finally grown up. He pressed a Sam Adams Porch Rocker into your hand and said, “I’ll throw a burger on for you if you want.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. No cheese, though.”

“No problem. Go and be friendly. It’ll be up win a few minutes.”

You looked around as he went back into the kitchen to get the burgers. Tiki torches flickered all around the yard’s perimeter and  Chairs were set up beneath towering maples and oaks and most of them were already occupied. Kids splashed in the in-ground pool, and you tried not to notice the bikinis around said pool. But, of course you did notice them and as you did, you vowed to work harder on your abs next gym session. A lie, of course. you hated doing abs, but as long as you made the promise, you felt better about the same. 

Before you could even make the attempt to go and be friendly, your sister-in-law Deena came up and wrapped you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in years. “I’m glad you finally got here,” she said, her voice low, “now, don’t be mad at me, but…”

“But what?” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Deena, what’s going on?”

“John’s here.”

“What?”

“I know, I know…Believe me, he heard about it, but” Deena held up both hands, palms out, “Gabe bumped into him and they got to talking and the next thing I know, he tells me he invited him.”

“Deena, are you kidding me?” You craned your neck to scan the huge backyard and it took you all of five seconds to find him, over near the clump of swamp maples to the left of the pool. There he was. 

John Porter.

Fuck.

It had been months since you’d last seen him, but as soon as your eyes alit on him, your entire body went hot. No one would ever blame me for that. After all, the man was hot. Tall, dark, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that promised all of the sinful delights the world had to offer and delivered so much more. He wasn't in your apartment more than ten minutes, there to pick you up for our first date, before you were naked on the sofa with him. You never even made it to the movie you’d planned to go see, which had been fine. He knew what he was doing and you’d take an orgasm over a stupid action movie any day of the week. And while you’d thought you’d never seen him again after that, you were wrong. In fact, you thought you were on the verge of something special, something that would last. 

You were falling in love.

You thought he was, as well. 

He worked for the British government and was only in the States temporarily. He’d gotten a call about a mission, couldn’t tell you what it was or where it would take him, only that he was leaving and he’d call you when he got back to the States.

That was last December. You were still waiting for that call.

Fucker.

“Oh, no,” Deena muttered. “Here he comes.”

“Wonderful.” You lifted the bottle to swallow half of it. A mistake, actually, as you hadn’t eaten and the beer went right to your head. 

“Hi there,” John said, his voice all casual, like you were work buddies or nothing more than casual acquaintances. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?” You managed to sound at least a little friendly. Or so you hoped. But the truth was, the butterflies were going wild in your stomach and the Porch Rocker had your head spinning more than a little and truth be told, just looking at him, all you could think about was tackling him somewhere. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until then.

And really, what you should’ve been thinking was junk punching him. He’d deserve it. 

“I’m good. I—uh—I retired at the end of May.”

“Retired? Really?”

He nodded, lifting his own bottle of Shock Top to his lips for a pull. He took two swallows then lowered it. “Yeah, I’m here now, doing some work for your government now instead.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough that I bought a house.”

That was something you hadn’t expected him to say. “You-you bought a house. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s not huge and there’s more grass than I real care to mow, but I’m adjusting. The worst part is you all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would be you.” 

He smiled, then glanced at Deena before looking back at you. “Look, can we talk?”

“Talk? What about?” You took another sip of your beer like you had no idea what he might want to talk to me about. Playing it cool. 

“I’m going to go see if Gabe needs any help.” Deena gestured toward the Coleman coolers up against the back of the house. “Beer’s in the red cooler, sodas and water are in the blue cooler.” 

Deena darted off, leaving you up on the deck with John, trying to remember why it was you didn't want to go off alone with him anywhere. Nothing good could come of it. It just couldn’t. 

He waited until Deena went back inside. “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

A knowing look came to his face, accompanied by a slightly crooked grin that made your insides twist immediately. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, right. You were going to call me, weren’t you, when you were stateside again?”

“Yeah, I was, but I ended up in the Middle East for months and couldn’t call from there because I couldn't give my location away. When I finally got back to London, I decided I’d had enough. I’d worked with a few Americans over there and was offered a job that paid better, had less travel, so I put in for my retirement and when I came back to the States, I figured too much time had passed and you were probably fairly angry with me, and rightfully so and I know that’s lame, but it’s the truth.”

You really didn't want to believe him, but he sounded sincere enough. And maybe you were being a fool, but you still cared about him, still missed him, and—if you were completely honest with yourself—you will loved him. Not a day went by when you didn't think about him, or didn’t worry about him, even if you would have cheerfully strangled him yourself.

And now, you had the opportunity at a second chance with him. Maybe you were being a fool, but… how often did one get a second chance?

With that, you sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, we can talk.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the side of Gabe’s pale yellow ranch house. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“You know Gabe.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. And his wife keeps giving me the stink-eye.”

You smiled. “She’s one of my best friends, so you’re lucky the stink-eye is all she’s giving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

You knew better, but you let him lead you around to the front of the house. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m still living out of boxes, more or less. Not much in the way of spare time since I got here.”

“But you had time for a cookout.”

“Who turns down free food?” He looked over at you and grinned.

That grin made your insides do a slow melt. Did he have any idea what he promised with only a smile? You remembered all too well what that smile did to you the first time. He’d leaned in and kissed you and that was it. The next thing you knew, you were tugging his cream-colored sweater over his head ad then wrestling with his belt while he had you naked in record time. And that was only the beginning. It only got better from there. 

Your nipples contracted on cue. Heat swept through you now and it had nothing to do with it being the middle of the summer. John Porter just oozed sex. Oozed sex, reeked of danger, and had a face that would make an angle commit any sin he asked. 

And sinning with him seemed mighty good right about now.

Wait? What?

No, you weren’t going there again. You knew you should go back to the house, and drown your sorrows in Porch Rockers, cheeseburgers, and chips, because standing there, with him, at the foot of Gabe’s driveway, was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. Your body remembered all too well what the man standing before could do, what he did do, and it was enough to make you already feel more than a little dampness between your legs. 

No man had ever had that power over you. But John did. And you had the feeling he knew it. Especially when you looked up and found him just watching you, his blue eyes glinting with something akin to promise.

He knew.

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just glad I decided to come.”

As he spoke, he stepped up closer to you. You instinctively stepped back, smack up against the side of your car. “John… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He took another step toward you. “We were good together. We should give it another shot.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we definitely should not give it another shot. I learned the hard way about that.”

“I was a shit and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“John.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m falling for this again.”

“I live right there,” he gestured with one hand over his right shoulder, “so why don’t we forget this cookout and make a few fireworks of our own and see if I can’t convince you how good we are together?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“That’s okay,” his grin widened, “you don’t have to like me. I like you enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Come on, admit it. You like me.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“Sure you do.” He stepped closer and you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up. He towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You relented then and sighed. “Okay, so you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“I knew it.” He bent to you and your heart quickened as his lips just barely brushed yours and he whispered, “I am sorry I didn't call you when I got back,” just before he claimed your lips in a soft kiss.

You sank back against your car as his mouth moved against yours, as his arm slid easily about your waist, as his body pressed up against you. His lips were warm and dry and soft, his tongue hot and silken as it eased between your lips to trace along yours. 

He came flush against you. You’d forgotten how solid he was, how muscled. He might not be in the military any longer, but he certainly didn't get lazy as a result. You melted against him, winding your arms about his neck. Your fingers crept up into his hair. It was short and bristly along his nape, but as they stretched higher, it grew softer. 

John shifted slightly, easing a thigh between yours and you couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth at the sensual friction it created. He pressed up into the apex of your thighs, sliding it along you as he did. Heat pooled where he met you, the cotton lining of your thong already damp. Damn it, he was one of those men who just knew how to touch you to get your motor humming, how to warm you up and make you almost drip with desire. Your core did a slow, teasing melt, the ache sweet and aggravating at the same time. 

But, you weren’t the only one whose body betrayed them. As he came completely flush against you, his cock pressed firmly against you, a rather large ridge in his jeans now and without thinking, you slid a hand down from his neck, shifted enough to sweep down along his chest, over his stomach, to that ridge, which you curved your hand about and gently squeezed.

He exhaled hard into your mouth and arched into your touch at the same time. The pressure against your hand was slow and steady, and you just wanted to unbuckle his belt, tug open the fly, and let your fingers roam over what you knew was thick, solid, utterly beautiful male flesh. 

You smiled as he shivered against you, as he thrust firmly against you and whispered, “We should go back to my place. It’s right across the street.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. I just told you I bought a house.” He drew back, his blue eyes almost sapphire, heavy-lidded, and promising you it would be absolutely worth falling into bed with him again. “So?”

You smiled. “Do I look dumb enough to do that again?”

He leaned in, sweeping his lips up along the side of your neck, to your ear, where he caught the lobe in gentle teeth and whispered, “I promise you, I’m not disappearing any time soon.”

“Liar.”

“No, I promise you,” he drew back and smiled, “I will. I’ll even call you first thing tomorrow. I mean, unless you’re still here tomorrow.”

Your stomach did a mighty flip at that. “Are you asking me to spend the night with you? We haven’t even left my brother’s yard yet.”

“I am and the key word is yet. I owe you.” He slid an arm about your waist to pull you up and away from the car. “We’ll get some takeaway and see what happens.”

“John, I’m not sleeping with you again.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

 “John.”

He bent to kiss you and as he did, your resolve melted. Maybe you were an idiot for doing this, but you didn't care. So, you let him catch you by the hand and you followed him across the street to the sage green ranch across the street. 

Once you were inside, John pulled you into his arms and his mouth crashed into yours. And in that moment, you were a goner. You melted into him, tugging his damp tee shirt up to slip your hands beneath it. His back was damp as well. It was hot as anything outside and you were both on the sweaty side. The AC hummed softly in the background, but the afternoon sun had poured in through the front bow window and the room was hot despite that AC.

His tongue thrust between your lips, teasing as it glided along yours. He curved his rough palms against your cheeks, angling your head ever so slightly to the right to give him better access, to allow him to deepen his kiss. You savored every last second of that deep, soulful kiss as it fired your blood and warmed you from the inside out. You flattened your hands against his back, the muscle like slabs of stone beneath his hot, smooth skin. 

Your back arched of its own, your breasts pressing firmly into his chest, your nipples responding to the contact by tightening into achy little beads. His hands fell away from your face, to the hem of your tank and he broke the kiss as he whisked that tank top up, a soft laugh dusting your lips as you raised your arms so he could strip it free and let it fall to the floor behind you.

Little by little, you tugged at each other’s clothes until the piles at your feet grew higher. He caught you around the waist to lift you easily and as he did, you wrapped your legs about his hips, both sighing as one when your softness ground firmly against his hardness. 

He lifted you just enough to capture a beaded nipple between his lips, flaying it with the tip of his tongue as he flicked it over that achy nub. Your core began the slow melt that had you aching for him, the heat between your thighs enough to warm the room further. He turned to press you against the wall, your eyes closing as he continued his sensual assault on your nipple, swirling his tongue about it, pulling it deeper into his mouth, flicking it just enough to make you suck in a hard breath. 

Your body ached for him just as it always did, when all you could think about was moments like this, with him. His touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac you’d ever known and he had the gift of knowing just how to touch you, how to stroke and tease you, until you were slick and hot and desperate for him.

That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. He was still your weakness and probably always would be and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to take him slow and deep until you both went mad with the need to come. 

He pulled away, his eyes smoked sapphires as they met yours. “I’ve missed you, love,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

“You knew where to find me,” you whispered back.

“I was a fucking coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He grinned. “But, you’re here now, so…”

With that, he reached between you and you felt him press up against you just hard enough to make tingles race through you.

“John!” His name burst from your lips as he then thrust and filled you with a long, silken stroke. You tightened about him instinctively, your fingernails biting into the back of his neck as he began thrusting. He moved with the slow assurance of a man who knew exactly how to make you melt, how to carefully bring you to that edge and hold you there, your body humming, your head spinning, your blood boiling as every fiber of your being tensed in anticipation of the fiery hot release of the perfect orgasm. 

This time was no different. Each thrust shoved you closer to that edge. You wrapped all around him, rocked your hips to meet those thrusts, a sense of triumph surging through you as he moaned low in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut for a long moment.

“Oh…” Your name bubbled to his lips, almost strangled as he thrust faster now. Pleasure spiraled through you, gentle at first, but it quickly grew. Hot. Sweet. Your thighs gripped his sides as you slid along the wall, as he drove powerfully into you. Bright lights danced before your eyes. Your head spun wildly from the sensual bliss coursing through you. You tightened about him, your climax taking root deep in your core, tensing and twisting as it wound through you. 

“John… oh… please…” You couldn’t hold back your plaintive moan, the need to come almost choking you now. You squeezed him, ground against him, met each thrust as best you could and then—

He crushed you between his body and the wall and you surrendered, melting at the sweet fire of mutual climax that had you clinging to him, throbbing around him, whispering his name as you tightened your arms about his neck.

John staggered back, sinking into the armchair just inside the front door and as he did, he cradled you against him, trembling beneath you as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. And I don’t want to miss you any more.”

You buried your face in his soft, dark hair, breathing in the clean eucalyptus scent of his shampoo, the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek against your all-too-sensitive skin. Your eyes closed, your heart slowed, your breath returned as you whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means, I want another chance with you.” He drew back slightly, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded and seductive, soft and tender. “So, what do you say?”

“Why should I, John?”

“Because you miss me? Because you want to be with me? Because I make your eyes cross and will do it on a regular basis?”

“I wanted all of that once and you left. How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I made a mistake when I left. The worst mistake I could’ve made. And I want to right that.”

You sat back carefully, mindful of the fact that your bodies were still joined, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And it would be messy, then. You carefully eased off him. “John, I—”

He pushed up from the chair, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted into the kitchen, coming back with a clean towel that he pressed into your hand. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t deny that. But, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, love. And the more I thought, the more I realized what I want. And what I want is you.”

“For now.”

“Forever.” He came up to catch you by the wrist, pulling the towel from you. “I love you. And I have for a long time.”

You stared up at him, his features softened by the darkness creeping in as night fell. Soft pops sounded in the distance. Firecrackers, no doubt. It was, after all, the Fourth of July. 

“John—”

“You have every reason to tell me to go to hell,” he said, drawing you into his arms once more. “But, I will prove myself to you somehow. I promise you, I will.”

You knew you should just get dressed and go back across the street, but the truth was, you’d missed him just as much. And you really did want to believe him.

But, what if…?

“John, what if you change your mind again?”

“I won’t,” he whispered, locking his fingers at the small of your back to hold you away from him. His eyes were honest, a slightly crooked grin played at his lips. “I promise you, I won’t. You’ll see.”

You sighed as the sky behind him lit up in flashes of purple and white and gold. You knew what your answer would be and perhaps it made you a fool, but you smiled just the same.

“I love you,” he added, drawing you close once more. “And I will prove it to you.”

“You better.” You reached up to brush a lock of spiky dark hair away from his forehead. “Because I love you back and I swear I will kick your ass if you’re just playing me, Sergeant Porter.”

He offered up a grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts. “Not sergeant, love. Just Mister. I’m a civilian now, and I promise you, I am not playing you. You’ll see.”

He tugged you back to him and as your lips met, and your eyes started to slip shut, more bursts of color erupted against the night sky as you melted against him once more. And as he tugged down onto the cool maple floor, those weren’t the only fireworks going off around you. 

***

Like it? Love it? Please comment and/or reblog it! 💜

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc 

[middleearthpixie]

You're so welcome, Fizz! I'm glad you like it. I love writing Sergeant Porter.... 💜😈🔥

I’m going to set a prompt for you. “Fireworks” for any of your works. Whichever you’re happiest to use.

It took me a while, but here it is... 💜

Fireworks

Summary:Your brother’s annual Fourth of July picnic brings with it a surprise you never saw coming - and brings John Porter unexpected back into your life.

Prompt: Fireworks

Characters: John Porter x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: unprotected sex 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,281

***

You stood in the doorway of your walk-in closet and frowned. Why was it when you actually had someplace to go, you never seemed to have anything to wear? The Murphy’s law of both fashion and being single, no doubt. 

 Although, why you really cared was a bit of a mystery. It was just your brother’s annual Fourth of July cookout and you already knew everyone on the guest list. But for some reason, you just wanted to look… good. 

Still, you didn't have all day to decide. The cookout started at two and you’d had to work, so it was already nearly seven now and if you waited any longer, there’d be no point in going at all.

That in mind, you finally settled on your old standby—jean shorts and a dark green tank top. Your hair almost behaved. Almost. So, up into a ponytail it went and not ten minutes later, you were easing your car to a stop behind your brother’s Ram 1500 pickup. There were a few cars parked in front of his house at the end of Maple Street, where the tall, leafy trees that gave the street its name showed the age of the neighborhood itself. During the day, shade splashed on both sides of the street and most of the cars parked along it took advantage of that shade. 

Music pumped from the backyard. Gabe was a big Beatles fan, and you recognized Sgt. Pepper and fought off a wince. As kids, he had this CD on loop and every morning, you woke up to the same refrain, you’d asked him to please, please, please play anything else and when he refused, you snuck into his room and stole the CD to bury in the backyard. 

But now, you didn't mind Sgt. Pepper so much as you lifted the latch to the gate and came around the corner, smiling and greeting the people you knew, the ones she saw at every one of Gabe’s gatherings.

“Hey, you made it!” 

Gabe was younger than you by almost four years and when you were kids, you couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without trying to kill each other. But, you weren’t kids any more and you didn't mind him so much since he’d finally grown up. He pressed a Sam Adams Porch Rocker into your hand and said, “I’ll throw a burger on for you if you want.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. No cheese, though.”

“No problem. Go and be friendly. It’ll be up win a few minutes.”

You looked around as he went back into the kitchen to get the burgers. Tiki torches flickered all around the yard’s perimeter and  Chairs were set up beneath towering maples and oaks and most of them were already occupied. Kids splashed in the in-ground pool, and you tried not to notice the bikinis around said pool. But, of course you did notice them and as you did, you vowed to work harder on your abs next gym session. A lie, of course. you hated doing abs, but as long as you made the promise, you felt better about the same. 

Before you could even make the attempt to go and be friendly, your sister-in-law Deena came up and wrapped you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in years. “I’m glad you finally got here,” she said, her voice low, “now, don’t be mad at me, but…”

“But what?” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Deena, what’s going on?”

“John’s here.”

“What?”

“I know, I know…Believe me, he heard about it, but” Deena held up both hands, palms out, “Gabe bumped into him and they got to talking and the next thing I know, he tells me he invited him.”

“Deena, are you kidding me?” You craned your neck to scan the huge backyard and it took you all of five seconds to find him, over near the clump of swamp maples to the left of the pool. There he was. 

John Porter.

Fuck.

It had been months since you’d last seen him, but as soon as your eyes alit on him, your entire body went hot. No one would ever blame me for that. After all, the man was hot. Tall, dark, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that promised all of the sinful delights the world had to offer and delivered so much more. He wasn't in your apartment more than ten minutes, there to pick you up for our first date, before you were naked on the sofa with him. You never even made it to the movie you’d planned to go see, which had been fine. He knew what he was doing and you’d take an orgasm over a stupid action movie any day of the week. And while you’d thought you’d never seen him again after that, you were wrong. In fact, you thought you were on the verge of something special, something that would last. 

You were falling in love.

You thought he was, as well. 

He worked for the British government and was only in the States temporarily. He’d gotten a call about a mission, couldn’t tell you what it was or where it would take him, only that he was leaving and he’d call you when he got back to the States.

That was last December. You were still waiting for that call.

Fucker.

“Oh, no,” Deena muttered. “Here he comes.”

“Wonderful.” You lifted the bottle to swallow half of it. A mistake, actually, as you hadn’t eaten and the beer went right to your head. 

“Hi there,” John said, his voice all casual, like you were work buddies or nothing more than casual acquaintances. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?” You managed to sound at least a little friendly. Or so you hoped. But the truth was, the butterflies were going wild in your stomach and the Porch Rocker had your head spinning more than a little and truth be told, just looking at him, all you could think about was tackling him somewhere. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until then.

And really, what you should’ve been thinking was junk punching him. He’d deserve it. 

“I’m good. I—uh—I retired at the end of May.”

“Retired? Really?”

He nodded, lifting his own bottle of Shock Top to his lips for a pull. He took two swallows then lowered it. “Yeah, I’m here now, doing some work for your government now instead.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough that I bought a house.”

That was something you hadn’t expected him to say. “You-you bought a house. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s not huge and there’s more grass than I real care to mow, but I’m adjusting. The worst part is you all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would be you.” 

He smiled, then glanced at Deena before looking back at you. “Look, can we talk?”

“Talk? What about?” You took another sip of your beer like you had no idea what he might want to talk to me about. Playing it cool. 

“I’m going to go see if Gabe needs any help.” Deena gestured toward the Coleman coolers up against the back of the house. “Beer’s in the red cooler, sodas and water are in the blue cooler.” 

Deena darted off, leaving you up on the deck with John, trying to remember why it was you didn't want to go off alone with him anywhere. Nothing good could come of it. It just couldn’t. 

He waited until Deena went back inside. “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

A knowing look came to his face, accompanied by a slightly crooked grin that made your insides twist immediately. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, right. You were going to call me, weren’t you, when you were stateside again?”

“Yeah, I was, but I ended up in the Middle East for months and couldn’t call from there because I couldn't give my location away. When I finally got back to London, I decided I’d had enough. I’d worked with a few Americans over there and was offered a job that paid better, had less travel, so I put in for my retirement and when I came back to the States, I figured too much time had passed and you were probably fairly angry with me, and rightfully so and I know that’s lame, but it’s the truth.”

You really didn't want to believe him, but he sounded sincere enough. And maybe you were being a fool, but you still cared about him, still missed him, and—if you were completely honest with yourself—you will loved him. Not a day went by when you didn't think about him, or didn’t worry about him, even if you would have cheerfully strangled him yourself.

And now, you had the opportunity at a second chance with him. Maybe you were being a fool, but… how often did one get a second chance?

With that, you sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, we can talk.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the side of Gabe’s pale yellow ranch house. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“You know Gabe.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. And his wife keeps giving me the stink-eye.”

You smiled. “She’s one of my best friends, so you’re lucky the stink-eye is all she’s giving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

You knew better, but you let him lead you around to the front of the house. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m still living out of boxes, more or less. Not much in the way of spare time since I got here.”

“But you had time for a cookout.”

“Who turns down free food?” He looked over at you and grinned.

That grin made your insides do a slow melt. Did he have any idea what he promised with only a smile? You remembered all too well what that smile did to you the first time. He’d leaned in and kissed you and that was it. The next thing you knew, you were tugging his cream-colored sweater over his head ad then wrestling with his belt while he had you naked in record time. And that was only the beginning. It only got better from there. 

Your nipples contracted on cue. Heat swept through you now and it had nothing to do with it being the middle of the summer. John Porter just oozed sex. Oozed sex, reeked of danger, and had a face that would make an angle commit any sin he asked. 

And sinning with him seemed mighty good right about now.

Wait? What?

No, you weren’t going there again. You knew you should go back to the house, and drown your sorrows in Porch Rockers, cheeseburgers, and chips, because standing there, with him, at the foot of Gabe’s driveway, was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. Your body remembered all too well what the man standing before could do, what he did do, and it was enough to make you already feel more than a little dampness between your legs. 

No man had ever had that power over you. But John did. And you had the feeling he knew it. Especially when you looked up and found him just watching you, his blue eyes glinting with something akin to promise.

He knew.

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just glad I decided to come.”

As he spoke, he stepped up closer to you. You instinctively stepped back, smack up against the side of your car. “John… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He took another step toward you. “We were good together. We should give it another shot.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we definitely should not give it another shot. I learned the hard way about that.”

“I was a shit and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“John.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m falling for this again.”

“I live right there,” he gestured with one hand over his right shoulder, “so why don’t we forget this cookout and make a few fireworks of our own and see if I can’t convince you how good we are together?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“That’s okay,” his grin widened, “you don’t have to like me. I like you enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Come on, admit it. You like me.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“Sure you do.” He stepped closer and you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up. He towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You relented then and sighed. “Okay, so you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“I knew it.” He bent to you and your heart quickened as his lips just barely brushed yours and he whispered, “I am sorry I didn't call you when I got back,” just before he claimed your lips in a soft kiss.

You sank back against your car as his mouth moved against yours, as his arm slid easily about your waist, as his body pressed up against you. His lips were warm and dry and soft, his tongue hot and silken as it eased between your lips to trace along yours. 

He came flush against you. You’d forgotten how solid he was, how muscled. He might not be in the military any longer, but he certainly didn't get lazy as a result. You melted against him, winding your arms about his neck. Your fingers crept up into his hair. It was short and bristly along his nape, but as they stretched higher, it grew softer. 

John shifted slightly, easing a thigh between yours and you couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth at the sensual friction it created. He pressed up into the apex of your thighs, sliding it along you as he did. Heat pooled where he met you, the cotton lining of your thong already damp. Damn it, he was one of those men who just knew how to touch you to get your motor humming, how to warm you up and make you almost drip with desire. Your core did a slow, teasing melt, the ache sweet and aggravating at the same time. 

But, you weren’t the only one whose body betrayed them. As he came completely flush against you, his cock pressed firmly against you, a rather large ridge in his jeans now and without thinking, you slid a hand down from his neck, shifted enough to sweep down along his chest, over his stomach, to that ridge, which you curved your hand about and gently squeezed.

He exhaled hard into your mouth and arched into your touch at the same time. The pressure against your hand was slow and steady, and you just wanted to unbuckle his belt, tug open the fly, and let your fingers roam over what you knew was thick, solid, utterly beautiful male flesh. 

You smiled as he shivered against you, as he thrust firmly against you and whispered, “We should go back to my place. It’s right across the street.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. I just told you I bought a house.” He drew back, his blue eyes almost sapphire, heavy-lidded, and promising you it would be absolutely worth falling into bed with him again. “So?”

You smiled. “Do I look dumb enough to do that again?”

He leaned in, sweeping his lips up along the side of your neck, to your ear, where he caught the lobe in gentle teeth and whispered, “I promise you, I’m not disappearing any time soon.”

“Liar.”

“No, I promise you,” he drew back and smiled, “I will. I’ll even call you first thing tomorrow. I mean, unless you’re still here tomorrow.”

Your stomach did a mighty flip at that. “Are you asking me to spend the night with you? We haven’t even left my brother’s yard yet.”

“I am and the key word is yet. I owe you.” He slid an arm about your waist to pull you up and away from the car. “We’ll get some takeaway and see what happens.”

“John, I’m not sleeping with you again.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

 “John.”

He bent to kiss you and as he did, your resolve melted. Maybe you were an idiot for doing this, but you didn't care. So, you let him catch you by the hand and you followed him across the street to the sage green ranch across the street. 

Once you were inside, John pulled you into his arms and his mouth crashed into yours. And in that moment, you were a goner. You melted into him, tugging his damp tee shirt up to slip your hands beneath it. His back was damp as well. It was hot as anything outside and you were both on the sweaty side. The AC hummed softly in the background, but the afternoon sun had poured in through the front bow window and the room was hot despite that AC.

His tongue thrust between your lips, teasing as it glided along yours. He curved his rough palms against your cheeks, angling your head ever so slightly to the right to give him better access, to allow him to deepen his kiss. You savored every last second of that deep, soulful kiss as it fired your blood and warmed you from the inside out. You flattened your hands against his back, the muscle like slabs of stone beneath his hot, smooth skin. 

Your back arched of its own, your breasts pressing firmly into his chest, your nipples responding to the contact by tightening into achy little beads. His hands fell away from your face, to the hem of your tank and he broke the kiss as he whisked that tank top up, a soft laugh dusting your lips as you raised your arms so he could strip it free and let it fall to the floor behind you.

Little by little, you tugged at each other’s clothes until the piles at your feet grew higher. He caught you around the waist to lift you easily and as he did, you wrapped your legs about his hips, both sighing as one when your softness ground firmly against his hardness. 

He lifted you just enough to capture a beaded nipple between his lips, flaying it with the tip of his tongue as he flicked it over that achy nub. Your core began the slow melt that had you aching for him, the heat between your thighs enough to warm the room further. He turned to press you against the wall, your eyes closing as he continued his sensual assault on your nipple, swirling his tongue about it, pulling it deeper into his mouth, flicking it just enough to make you suck in a hard breath. 

Your body ached for him just as it always did, when all you could think about was moments like this, with him. His touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac you’d ever known and he had the gift of knowing just how to touch you, how to stroke and tease you, until you were slick and hot and desperate for him.

That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. He was still your weakness and probably always would be and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to take him slow and deep until you both went mad with the need to come. 

He pulled away, his eyes smoked sapphires as they met yours. “I’ve missed you, love,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

“You knew where to find me,” you whispered back.

“I was a fucking coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He grinned. “But, you’re here now, so…”

With that, he reached between you and you felt him press up against you just hard enough to make tingles race through you.

“John!” His name burst from your lips as he then thrust and filled you with a long, silken stroke. You tightened about him instinctively, your fingernails biting into the back of his neck as he began thrusting. He moved with the slow assurance of a man who knew exactly how to make you melt, how to carefully bring you to that edge and hold you there, your body humming, your head spinning, your blood boiling as every fiber of your being tensed in anticipation of the fiery hot release of the perfect orgasm. 

This time was no different. Each thrust shoved you closer to that edge. You wrapped all around him, rocked your hips to meet those thrusts, a sense of triumph surging through you as he moaned low in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut for a long moment.

“Oh…” Your name bubbled to his lips, almost strangled as he thrust faster now. Pleasure spiraled through you, gentle at first, but it quickly grew. Hot. Sweet. Your thighs gripped his sides as you slid along the wall, as he drove powerfully into you. Bright lights danced before your eyes. Your head spun wildly from the sensual bliss coursing through you. You tightened about him, your climax taking root deep in your core, tensing and twisting as it wound through you. 

“John… oh… please…” You couldn’t hold back your plaintive moan, the need to come almost choking you now. You squeezed him, ground against him, met each thrust as best you could and then—

He crushed you between his body and the wall and you surrendered, melting at the sweet fire of mutual climax that had you clinging to him, throbbing around him, whispering his name as you tightened your arms about his neck.

John staggered back, sinking into the armchair just inside the front door and as he did, he cradled you against him, trembling beneath you as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. And I don’t want to miss you any more.”

You buried your face in his soft, dark hair, breathing in the clean eucalyptus scent of his shampoo, the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek against your all-too-sensitive skin. Your eyes closed, your heart slowed, your breath returned as you whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means, I want another chance with you.” He drew back slightly, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded and seductive, soft and tender. “So, what do you say?”

“Why should I, John?”

“Because you miss me? Because you want to be with me? Because I make your eyes cross and will do it on a regular basis?”

“I wanted all of that once and you left. How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I made a mistake when I left. The worst mistake I could’ve made. And I want to right that.”

You sat back carefully, mindful of the fact that your bodies were still joined, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And it would be messy, then. You carefully eased off him. “John, I—”

He pushed up from the chair, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted into the kitchen, coming back with a clean towel that he pressed into your hand. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t deny that. But, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, love. And the more I thought, the more I realized what I want. And what I want is you.”

“For now.”

“Forever.” He came up to catch you by the wrist, pulling the towel from you. “I love you. And I have for a long time.”

You stared up at him, his features softened by the darkness creeping in as night fell. Soft pops sounded in the distance. Firecrackers, no doubt. It was, after all, the Fourth of July. 

“John—”

“You have every reason to tell me to go to hell,” he said, drawing you into his arms once more. “But, I will prove myself to you somehow. I promise you, I will.”

You knew you should just get dressed and go back across the street, but the truth was, you’d missed him just as much. And you really did want to believe him.

But, what if…?

“John, what if you change your mind again?”

“I won’t,” he whispered, locking his fingers at the small of your back to hold you away from him. His eyes were honest, a slightly crooked grin played at his lips. “I promise you, I won’t. You’ll see.”

You sighed as the sky behind him lit up in flashes of purple and white and gold. You knew what your answer would be and perhaps it made you a fool, but you smiled just the same.

“I love you,” he added, drawing you close once more. “And I will prove it to you.”

“You better.” You reached up to brush a lock of spiky dark hair away from his forehead. “Because I love you back and I swear I will kick your ass if you’re just playing me, Sergeant Porter.”

He offered up a grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts. “Not sergeant, love. Just Mister. I’m a civilian now, and I promise you, I am not playing you. You’ll see.”

He tugged you back to him and as your lips met, and your eyes started to slip shut, more bursts of color erupted against the night sky as you melted against him once more. And as he tugged down onto the cool maple floor, those weren’t the only fireworks going off around you. 

***

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[middleearthpixie]

Thank you! I like writing Sergeant Porter... 💜

I’m going to set a prompt for you. “Fireworks” for any of your works. Whichever you’re happiest to use.

It took me a while, but here it is... 💜

Fireworks

Summary:Your brother’s annual Fourth of July picnic brings with it a surprise you never saw coming - and brings John Porter unexpected back into your life.

Prompt: Fireworks

Characters: John Porter x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: unprotected sex 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,281

***

You stood in the doorway of your walk-in closet and frowned. Why was it when you actually had someplace to go, you never seemed to have anything to wear? The Murphy’s law of both fashion and being single, no doubt. 

 Although, why you really cared was a bit of a mystery. It was just your brother’s annual Fourth of July cookout and you already knew everyone on the guest list. But for some reason, you just wanted to look… good. 

Still, you didn't have all day to decide. The cookout started at two and you’d had to work, so it was already nearly seven now and if you waited any longer, there’d be no point in going at all.

That in mind, you finally settled on your old standby—jean shorts and a dark green tank top. Your hair almost behaved. Almost. So, up into a ponytail it went and not ten minutes later, you were easing your car to a stop behind your brother’s Ram 1500 pickup. There were a few cars parked in front of his house at the end of Maple Street, where the tall, leafy trees that gave the street its name showed the age of the neighborhood itself. During the day, shade splashed on both sides of the street and most of the cars parked along it took advantage of that shade. 

Music pumped from the backyard. Gabe was a big Beatles fan, and you recognized Sgt. Pepper and fought off a wince. As kids, he had this CD on loop and every morning, you woke up to the same refrain, you’d asked him to please, please, please play anything else and when he refused, you snuck into his room and stole the CD to bury in the backyard. 

But now, you didn't mind Sgt. Pepper so much as you lifted the latch to the gate and came around the corner, smiling and greeting the people you knew, the ones she saw at every one of Gabe’s gatherings.

“Hey, you made it!” 

Gabe was younger than you by almost four years and when you were kids, you couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without trying to kill each other. But, you weren’t kids any more and you didn't mind him so much since he’d finally grown up. He pressed a Sam Adams Porch Rocker into your hand and said, “I’ll throw a burger on for you if you want.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. No cheese, though.”

“No problem. Go and be friendly. It’ll be up win a few minutes.”

You looked around as he went back into the kitchen to get the burgers. Tiki torches flickered all around the yard’s perimeter and  Chairs were set up beneath towering maples and oaks and most of them were already occupied. Kids splashed in the in-ground pool, and you tried not to notice the bikinis around said pool. But, of course you did notice them and as you did, you vowed to work harder on your abs next gym session. A lie, of course. you hated doing abs, but as long as you made the promise, you felt better about the same. 

Before you could even make the attempt to go and be friendly, your sister-in-law Deena came up and wrapped you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in years. “I’m glad you finally got here,” she said, her voice low, “now, don’t be mad at me, but…”

“But what?” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Deena, what’s going on?”

“John’s here.”

“What?”

“I know, I know…Believe me, he heard about it, but” Deena held up both hands, palms out, “Gabe bumped into him and they got to talking and the next thing I know, he tells me he invited him.”

“Deena, are you kidding me?” You craned your neck to scan the huge backyard and it took you all of five seconds to find him, over near the clump of swamp maples to the left of the pool. There he was. 

John Porter.

Fuck.

It had been months since you’d last seen him, but as soon as your eyes alit on him, your entire body went hot. No one would ever blame me for that. After all, the man was hot. Tall, dark, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that promised all of the sinful delights the world had to offer and delivered so much more. He wasn't in your apartment more than ten minutes, there to pick you up for our first date, before you were naked on the sofa with him. You never even made it to the movie you’d planned to go see, which had been fine. He knew what he was doing and you’d take an orgasm over a stupid action movie any day of the week. And while you’d thought you’d never seen him again after that, you were wrong. In fact, you thought you were on the verge of something special, something that would last. 

You were falling in love.

You thought he was, as well. 

He worked for the British government and was only in the States temporarily. He’d gotten a call about a mission, couldn’t tell you what it was or where it would take him, only that he was leaving and he’d call you when he got back to the States.

That was last December. You were still waiting for that call.

Fucker.

“Oh, no,” Deena muttered. “Here he comes.”

“Wonderful.” You lifted the bottle to swallow half of it. A mistake, actually, as you hadn’t eaten and the beer went right to your head. 

“Hi there,” John said, his voice all casual, like you were work buddies or nothing more than casual acquaintances. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?” You managed to sound at least a little friendly. Or so you hoped. But the truth was, the butterflies were going wild in your stomach and the Porch Rocker had your head spinning more than a little and truth be told, just looking at him, all you could think about was tackling him somewhere. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until then.

And really, what you should’ve been thinking was junk punching him. He’d deserve it. 

“I’m good. I—uh—I retired at the end of May.”

“Retired? Really?”

He nodded, lifting his own bottle of Shock Top to his lips for a pull. He took two swallows then lowered it. “Yeah, I’m here now, doing some work for your government now instead.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough that I bought a house.”

That was something you hadn’t expected him to say. “You-you bought a house. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s not huge and there’s more grass than I real care to mow, but I’m adjusting. The worst part is you all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would be you.” 

He smiled, then glanced at Deena before looking back at you. “Look, can we talk?”

“Talk? What about?” You took another sip of your beer like you had no idea what he might want to talk to me about. Playing it cool. 

“I’m going to go see if Gabe needs any help.” Deena gestured toward the Coleman coolers up against the back of the house. “Beer’s in the red cooler, sodas and water are in the blue cooler.” 

Deena darted off, leaving you up on the deck with John, trying to remember why it was you didn't want to go off alone with him anywhere. Nothing good could come of it. It just couldn’t. 

He waited until Deena went back inside. “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

A knowing look came to his face, accompanied by a slightly crooked grin that made your insides twist immediately. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, right. You were going to call me, weren’t you, when you were stateside again?”

“Yeah, I was, but I ended up in the Middle East for months and couldn’t call from there because I couldn't give my location away. When I finally got back to London, I decided I’d had enough. I’d worked with a few Americans over there and was offered a job that paid better, had less travel, so I put in for my retirement and when I came back to the States, I figured too much time had passed and you were probably fairly angry with me, and rightfully so and I know that’s lame, but it’s the truth.”

You really didn't want to believe him, but he sounded sincere enough. And maybe you were being a fool, but you still cared about him, still missed him, and—if you were completely honest with yourself—you will loved him. Not a day went by when you didn't think about him, or didn’t worry about him, even if you would have cheerfully strangled him yourself.

And now, you had the opportunity at a second chance with him. Maybe you were being a fool, but… how often did one get a second chance?

With that, you sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, we can talk.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the side of Gabe’s pale yellow ranch house. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“You know Gabe.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. And his wife keeps giving me the stink-eye.”

You smiled. “She’s one of my best friends, so you’re lucky the stink-eye is all she’s giving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

You knew better, but you let him lead you around to the front of the house. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m still living out of boxes, more or less. Not much in the way of spare time since I got here.”

“But you had time for a cookout.”

“Who turns down free food?” He looked over at you and grinned.

That grin made your insides do a slow melt. Did he have any idea what he promised with only a smile? You remembered all too well what that smile did to you the first time. He’d leaned in and kissed you and that was it. The next thing you knew, you were tugging his cream-colored sweater over his head ad then wrestling with his belt while he had you naked in record time. And that was only the beginning. It only got better from there. 

Your nipples contracted on cue. Heat swept through you now and it had nothing to do with it being the middle of the summer. John Porter just oozed sex. Oozed sex, reeked of danger, and had a face that would make an angle commit any sin he asked. 

And sinning with him seemed mighty good right about now.

Wait? What?

No, you weren’t going there again. You knew you should go back to the house, and drown your sorrows in Porch Rockers, cheeseburgers, and chips, because standing there, with him, at the foot of Gabe’s driveway, was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. Your body remembered all too well what the man standing before could do, what he did do, and it was enough to make you already feel more than a little dampness between your legs. 

No man had ever had that power over you. But John did. And you had the feeling he knew it. Especially when you looked up and found him just watching you, his blue eyes glinting with something akin to promise.

He knew.

“What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just glad I decided to come.”

As he spoke, he stepped up closer to you. You instinctively stepped back, smack up against the side of your car. “John… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He took another step toward you. “We were good together. We should give it another shot.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we definitely should not give it another shot. I learned the hard way about that.”

“I was a shit and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“John.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m falling for this again.”

“I live right there,” he gestured with one hand over his right shoulder, “so why don’t we forget this cookout and make a few fireworks of our own and see if I can’t convince you how good we are together?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“That’s okay,” his grin widened, “you don’t have to like me. I like you enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Come on, admit it. You like me.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“Sure you do.” He stepped closer and you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up. He towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You relented then and sighed. “Okay, so you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“I knew it.” He bent to you and your heart quickened as his lips just barely brushed yours and he whispered, “I am sorry I didn't call you when I got back,” just before he claimed your lips in a soft kiss.

You sank back against your car as his mouth moved against yours, as his arm slid easily about your waist, as his body pressed up against you. His lips were warm and dry and soft, his tongue hot and silken as it eased between your lips to trace along yours. 

He came flush against you. You’d forgotten how solid he was, how muscled. He might not be in the military any longer, but he certainly didn't get lazy as a result. You melted against him, winding your arms about his neck. Your fingers crept up into his hair. It was short and bristly along his nape, but as they stretched higher, it grew softer. 

John shifted slightly, easing a thigh between yours and you couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth at the sensual friction it created. He pressed up into the apex of your thighs, sliding it along you as he did. Heat pooled where he met you, the cotton lining of your thong already damp. Damn it, he was one of those men who just knew how to touch you to get your motor humming, how to warm you up and make you almost drip with desire. Your core did a slow, teasing melt, the ache sweet and aggravating at the same time. 

But, you weren’t the only one whose body betrayed them. As he came completely flush against you, his cock pressed firmly against you, a rather large ridge in his jeans now and without thinking, you slid a hand down from his neck, shifted enough to sweep down along his chest, over his stomach, to that ridge, which you curved your hand about and gently squeezed.

He exhaled hard into your mouth and arched into your touch at the same time. The pressure against your hand was slow and steady, and you just wanted to unbuckle his belt, tug open the fly, and let your fingers roam over what you knew was thick, solid, utterly beautiful male flesh. 

You smiled as he shivered against you, as he thrust firmly against you and whispered, “We should go back to my place. It’s right across the street.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. I just told you I bought a house.” He drew back, his blue eyes almost sapphire, heavy-lidded, and promising you it would be absolutely worth falling into bed with him again. “So?”

You smiled. “Do I look dumb enough to do that again?”

He leaned in, sweeping his lips up along the side of your neck, to your ear, where he caught the lobe in gentle teeth and whispered, “I promise you, I’m not disappearing any time soon.”

“Liar.”

“No, I promise you,” he drew back and smiled, “I will. I’ll even call you first thing tomorrow. I mean, unless you’re still here tomorrow.”

Your stomach did a mighty flip at that. “Are you asking me to spend the night with you? We haven’t even left my brother’s yard yet.”

“I am and the key word is yet. I owe you.” He slid an arm about your waist to pull you up and away from the car. “We’ll get some takeaway and see what happens.”

“John, I’m not sleeping with you again.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

 “John.”

He bent to kiss you and as he did, your resolve melted. Maybe you were an idiot for doing this, but you didn't care. So, you let him catch you by the hand and you followed him across the street to the sage green ranch across the street. 

Once you were inside, John pulled you into his arms and his mouth crashed into yours. And in that moment, you were a goner. You melted into him, tugging his damp tee shirt up to slip your hands beneath it. His back was damp as well. It was hot as anything outside and you were both on the sweaty side. The AC hummed softly in the background, but the afternoon sun had poured in through the front bow window and the room was hot despite that AC.

His tongue thrust between your lips, teasing as it glided along yours. He curved his rough palms against your cheeks, angling your head ever so slightly to the right to give him better access, to allow him to deepen his kiss. You savored every last second of that deep, soulful kiss as it fired your blood and warmed you from the inside out. You flattened your hands against his back, the muscle like slabs of stone beneath his hot, smooth skin. 

Your back arched of its own, your breasts pressing firmly into his chest, your nipples responding to the contact by tightening into achy little beads. His hands fell away from your face, to the hem of your tank and he broke the kiss as he whisked that tank top up, a soft laugh dusting your lips as you raised your arms so he could strip it free and let it fall to the floor behind you.

Little by little, you tugged at each other’s clothes until the piles at your feet grew higher. He caught you around the waist to lift you easily and as he did, you wrapped your legs about his hips, both sighing as one when your softness ground firmly against his hardness. 

He lifted you just enough to capture a beaded nipple between his lips, flaying it with the tip of his tongue as he flicked it over that achy nub. Your core began the slow melt that had you aching for him, the heat between your thighs enough to warm the room further. He turned to press you against the wall, your eyes closing as he continued his sensual assault on your nipple, swirling his tongue about it, pulling it deeper into his mouth, flicking it just enough to make you suck in a hard breath. 

Your body ached for him just as it always did, when all you could think about was moments like this, with him. His touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac you’d ever known and he had the gift of knowing just how to touch you, how to stroke and tease you, until you were slick and hot and desperate for him.

That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. He was still your weakness and probably always would be and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to take him slow and deep until you both went mad with the need to come. 

He pulled away, his eyes smoked sapphires as they met yours. “I’ve missed you, love,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

“You knew where to find me,” you whispered back.

“I was a fucking coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He grinned. “But, you’re here now, so…”

With that, he reached between you and you felt him press up against you just hard enough to make tingles race through you.

“John!” His name burst from your lips as he then thrust and filled you with a long, silken stroke. You tightened about him instinctively, your fingernails biting into the back of his neck as he began thrusting. He moved with the slow assurance of a man who knew exactly how to make you melt, how to carefully bring you to that edge and hold you there, your body humming, your head spinning, your blood boiling as every fiber of your being tensed in anticipation of the fiery hot release of the perfect orgasm. 

This time was no different. Each thrust shoved you closer to that edge. You wrapped all around him, rocked your hips to meet those thrusts, a sense of triumph surging through you as he moaned low in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut for a long moment.

“Oh…” Your name bubbled to his lips, almost strangled as he thrust faster now. Pleasure spiraled through you, gentle at first, but it quickly grew. Hot. Sweet. Your thighs gripped his sides as you slid along the wall, as he drove powerfully into you. Bright lights danced before your eyes. Your head spun wildly from the sensual bliss coursing through you. You tightened about him, your climax taking root deep in your core, tensing and twisting as it wound through you. 

“John… oh… please…” You couldn’t hold back your plaintive moan, the need to come almost choking you now. You squeezed him, ground against him, met each thrust as best you could and then—

He crushed you between his body and the wall and you surrendered, melting at the sweet fire of mutual climax that had you clinging to him, throbbing around him, whispering his name as you tightened your arms about his neck.

John staggered back, sinking into the armchair just inside the front door and as he did, he cradled you against him, trembling beneath you as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. And I don’t want to miss you any more.”

You buried your face in his soft, dark hair, breathing in the clean eucalyptus scent of his shampoo, the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek against your all-too-sensitive skin. Your eyes closed, your heart slowed, your breath returned as you whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means, I want another chance with you.” He drew back slightly, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded and seductive, soft and tender. “So, what do you say?”

“Why should I, John?”

“Because you miss me? Because you want to be with me? Because I make your eyes cross and will do it on a regular basis?”

“I wanted all of that once and you left. How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I made a mistake when I left. The worst mistake I could’ve made. And I want to right that.”

You sat back carefully, mindful of the fact that your bodies were still joined, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And it would be messy, then. You carefully eased off him. “John, I—”

He pushed up from the chair, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted into the kitchen, coming back with a clean towel that he pressed into your hand. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t deny that. But, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, love. And the more I thought, the more I realized what I want. And what I want is you.”

“For now.”

“Forever.” He came up to catch you by the wrist, pulling the towel from you. “I love you. And I have for a long time.”

You stared up at him, his features softened by the darkness creeping in as night fell. Soft pops sounded in the distance. Firecrackers, no doubt. It was, after all, the Fourth of July. 

“John—”

“You have every reason to tell me to go to hell,” he said, drawing you into his arms once more. “But, I will prove myself to you somehow. I promise you, I will.”

You knew you should just get dressed and go back across the street, but the truth was, you’d missed him just as much. And you really did want to believe him.

But, what if…?

“John, what if you change your mind again?”

“I won’t,” he whispered, locking his fingers at the small of your back to hold you away from him. His eyes were honest, a slightly crooked grin played at his lips. “I promise you, I won’t. You’ll see.”

You sighed as the sky behind him lit up in flashes of purple and white and gold. You knew what your answer would be and perhaps it made you a fool, but you smiled just the same.

“I love you,” he added, drawing you close once more. “And I will prove it to you.”

“You better.” You reached up to brush a lock of spiky dark hair away from his forehead. “Because I love you back and I swear I will kick your ass if you’re just playing me, Sergeant Porter.”

He offered up a grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts. “Not sergeant, love. Just Mister. I’m a civilian now, and I promise you, I am not playing you. You’ll see.”

He tugged you back to him and as your lips met, and your eyes started to slip shut, more bursts of color erupted against the night sky as you melted against him once more. And as he tugged down onto the cool maple floor, those weren’t the only fireworks going off around you. 

***

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Lockdown

A/N: A Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover, part 4 

The police code here is one I found for my home state and while the first fifty ten-codes are generally used in all 50 states, they can still vary. I may have also taken a bit of license with what the procedure would be in the instance of a school shooting. 

10-20 - advise to location 

Summary:You and John Porter have broken up, but when tragedy hits a little close to home, you’re both rethinking your priorities

Characters: John Porter, Guy Gisborne, Reader, numerous eight graders 

Warnings: Some tension, hints of gun violence in a school setting

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,889

***

You sighed as you tapped your pen against the blank notebook page on the table in front of you. You were between classes, listening to the din coming from the hallways that was sixth, seventh, and eighth graders all changing classes. 

A yawn worked its way to your lips. You hadn’t been sleeping well and hadn’t been for weeks, now. Not since the night you and John broke up. You tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about him. But that was, of course, easier said than done. You’d met on a blind date set up by mutual friends who were a couple and so thought everyone should be paired off. Unlike most blind dates, this one ended on the highest of notes and in a blaze of sinful passion that was the start of one of the most wonderful relationships you’d ever had. 

Maybe you should have seen the end coming, but you didn’t. After all, he seemed so absolutely supportive of your decision to go back to school and get your Master’s in American History so you could maybe teach at the high school level as well. But then as your workload piled up and your free time shrank until it almost disappeared, it took its toll on both of you. You began fighting over the stupidest things, until finally, in a moment of utter frustration, you told him, “Look, we want different things I guess. Maybe we should just take a step back for now.”

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

To which he said, “Sounds good. Call me when you’ve decided you’ve got time for me again.”

With that parting shot, he stormed out of your apartment. It was the last time you saw or talked to him and that was almost six weeks ago. He’d left a couple of terse voicemails but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. You tried not to think about what he was doing. Angel told you over coffee a week ago that he’d started seeing someone else and both she and her fiancé, Guy hated this new woman. She and Guy were planning their wedding and trying, she’d confessed, to find a way to keep John’s new girlfriend from coming to it. That conversation left you dead inside. You were Angel’s maid of honor. You would have no choice but to see John with your replacement and the thought alone made you want to throw up. 

The bell rang and your students filed in, laughing, chatting, texting without looking up from their phones or bumping into anything—which amazed you as much as it horrified you—and as they took their seats, you stood. “Good morning! Phones away, we’ve got a lot to cover this morning, beginning with your paper topics. Have you all decided what you’re writing about?”

The voices rose as one loud buzz and you smiled. “Okay. Let me try that again. Who here does not have a topic yet?”

With that, the buzzing dulled and three hands went into the air. You smiled. “Okay. Lisa, Deja, and Tyler. Good. The rest of you, take a look the questions I’ve written on the board and start answering them. Lisa, why don’t you come up and we can talk about what you might want to do. Deja, next, and then Tyler.”

The others grumbled, and two of the girls took out their phones instead, to which you said, “Elena, Donna—up here with the phones and into the basket they go.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious, Donna. Let’s go.” You moved the wire basket that sat on the opposite corner of your desk to the other side of your desk. “You know the rules.”

They muttered under their breath, but each girl came up to drop her phone in the basket. “Anyone else think they might need to prevent themselves from becoming distracted?”

No one else moved and all phones went away. 

“Good. Now, get to work. Lisa, come on up and—”

The PA system crackled to life to interrupt you. “Good afternoon, students and staff. Brunswick High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, shut off all lights, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. This is not a drill. Again, Brunswick Hills High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. I repeat, this is not a drill.”  

You stood up. “You heard Principal Bailey. Phones off. Back corner, guys. And be quiet.” 

They stood almost as a unit and moved to the far corner of the room, where a low metal bookshelf stood just beneath the windows overlooking the courtyard. You skirted your desk to the door at the back of the room, pulled the shade, and then locked it, then flipped the lights off before moving to the door at the front of the room to lock it and pulled down that shade as well. Then, one by one, each window shade came down and the room sank into darkness.

It wasn’t a drill, but it also wasn't the first real lockdown you’d ever been through. Last year, there were two that wound up being nothing, so you weren’t really all that frightened. Your heart sped up a little, but you paid little attention to it as you moved over to where your students sat.

But then you heard it. 

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

The noises were faint, but enough to make you jump and none of you needed to be told what you heard. And your heart sped up as you looked at the thirteen and fourteen year old faces in the corner. They knew it as well. 

“Keep quiet,” you whispered, putting a forefinger to your lips. “I’m sure the police are on the way, if they aren’t already here, and—”

“That sounds awful close,” Deja whispered.

More popping sounds. Louder this time. 

You looked around your room. You were on the second floor. The courtyard could only be accessed by way of the first floor, there was no exterior way into it. There were two cabinets that could hold two, maybe three of your kids each. That left fourteen students that would be sitting ducks. 

The commotion in the hallway grew louder. Boots sounded. Voices rose. The popping grew louder. Lisa let out a squeak, and Tyler clapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her. 

“It’s okay, guys,” you said, your voice far calmer than you actually felt. But you couldn't let them see you were scared as well. If you were outwardly calm, they would remain calm as well, and that was important. You knew the drill. You were ready. 

Of course, being ready didn't mean you weren’t scared as all fuck, because in truth? Your hands would be shaking like crazy if they weren’t balled against your thighs. You had to at least appear calm to keep them from panicking. You looked at those scared faces around you, some of whom had pulled their phones out and were texting like mad now, and you were supposed to confiscate the devices, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Stories of previous school shootings flashed through your mind. Columbine. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Some of those texts were the last words their parents would ever hear. 

A shadow passed the back door. Your heart stopped beating as the door handle rattled. And rattled again. 

A hand caught yours. You looked over. Tyler. He was such a sweet kid. He was new to the school and hadn’t quite figured out where he fit in just yet, but the others in class liked him and little by little, he was beginning to bloom.

You put a finger to your lips. He nodded. 

The shadow moved.

To the front door. 

You’d never heard a gunshot up close. It rang out and deafened you for a moment as glass sprayed inwards. A hand came through the hole that used to be a window. 

“Stay down.” You whispered this as you got up. Your heart hammered your ribs hard enough that black dots actually danced before your eyes. You’d never been so terrified in your life, and would have thought you’d freeze in this moment.

But you didn't freeze. You looked over your shoulder at the kids who were instead frozen in place, phones forgotten even as text bubbles popped up on screen after screen. 

“If something happens, do whatever you can to protect yourselves,” you whispered. “The police are coming.”

The hand caught the lock and turned it and you stood there, just waiting, barely breathing. Barely hearing anything over the rush of your own blood through your veins, through your temples. You heart raced. Your mouth was beyond dry. 

You waited.

John’s blood roared through his ears as he and Guy pulled up to John F. Kennedy Middle School. SWAT was already there. Paramedics and ambulances were also already there, just in case. He and Guy really didn't need to be, but as soon as he heard the alert go out, all he could think about was getting to the school. 

About getting to you.

“Shit,” he muttered at the sheer number of responders. Police. Ambulances. All with their flashers going but without any accompanying sirens. This was his first time responding to an active shooter in a school situation and that it was your school… 

He wanted to vomit. 

“Come on,” Guy tugged the keys from the ignition and thrust open his door, “let’s at least see if we can get a status update.”

“I should have called her last night. I wanted to,” John said as he climbed out of the car. “And I can’t explain why, because she’s made it clear to me she doesn’t want to talk to me. But I just had the urge to call her.”

“She knows about Stephanie.” Guy slammed the driver’s side door shut. “Angel told her.”

“Knows what? There’s nothing to know. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.” At Guy’s long look, John shook his head. “She’s not. I’ve done nothing with her.”

“Really? Not even a kiss?”

John almost smiled at the disbelief in Guy’s voice. “Not even a kiss. It’s just not there for me. I’m not the least bit interested in kissing her or anyone else.” John moved around to the trunk and popped it, then bent over to fish out the kevlar vests with the reflective letters BHPD and Police on them. “Here.”

Guy took his and eased it over his head. “Then fucking call your teacher already, will you? You’re miserable. She’s miserable. And Angel’s pissed at both of you, which means I’m always running the risk of being miserable as well.”

John adjusted the Velcro on his vest. “Guy, I just told you—she doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve called her about half a dozen times since we broke up and have gotten only radio silence.”

The radio on his hip crackled. “We have the suspect pinned down. Second floor classroom. Two hundreds. He’s got a teacher and about fifteen kids trapped in a classroom. Over.”

Another voice came over. “Ten-twenty. Over.” 

“Room two-twelve. Over.”

Guy lifted his radio. “Unit Fifty-Seven reporting. We just arrived on scene. Status? Over.”

“Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by at this time. Repeat, Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by. We have officers in place. Over.”

“Copy.” Guy lowered the radio. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not fine. I want to storm in there and take this guy out and that I can’t is killing me, man. I have to trust these guys—” he gestured to all of the uniforms around them—“and that’s the last thing I’m really able to do right now. And what about you? You okay? I mean, Angel teaches here, too, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. But she took a personal day. Wedding stuff. So, right now, she is at any given mall in the state trying to find whatever it was she was trying to find and don’t ask me what because I have no idea.”

John couldn't ignore the way his gut bubbled. “Do you know if she’s doing this wedding stuff alone? Maybe she needed her maid of honor with her?”

Guy just gave him a look. “She’s here, John. Sorry, man. Angel is solo on this one.”

“Shit.” He peered over the top of their car at the officers swarming into the building. School shootings were something he simply was not used to, would never get used to, and he’d be lying if he said otherwise and it took every bit of will he had to remain where he was, because in reality, all he wanted was to get to you.

The gunshots rang out and both he and Guy spun towards the building’s north wing. Their radios went wild at that moment, with officers shouting over the pop!pop! of gunfire and then everything went horribly silent. 

“Officer requesting medical assistance to room two-twelve,” a voice crackled. “Gunman breached the classroom door and just began firing. Over.”

“Copy that. How many victims? Over.”

“Two, but injuries do not appear life threatening. Repeat, injuries do not appear life threatening.”

“And the suspect?”

“Killed at the scene.”

With that, the first responders flooded the building and John was right behind them. He had to see you, and to make sure you were okay. That was all that mattered. 

Everywhere, uniforms swarmed, escorting kids and adults out of classroom after classroom in a relatively orderly fashion. They were all oddly silent, at first, but once they were outside the building, and they caught sight of their parents or other family members, they bolted. Students hugged students Teachers hugged groups of students. Teachers hugged one another. By now, civilians cars—parents, no doubt—lined Maple Street and as kids ran out, parents swept in. Reunions were tearful, with other officers trying to keep parents from going into the building itself.

He took a step toward the building and Guy’s hand met the middle of his chest. “Porter, wait here.”

“No, I’m going in.”

“You’re not. You know the drill. We aren’t needed and we wait right here.” 

“But—”

“Right here, John.”

He glared at Guy. “Would you be waiting if it was Angel in there? Because you know you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Guy shook his head, “I wouldn’t. But you’d make damn sure I did and you know it. Now, I know it sucks, but we wait. Right here.”

John knocked Guy’s hand from his chest and stepped back. Guy was right and John knew it, but that did nothing to calm his nerves at all. He couldn't stand still. He paced. Along the sidewalk to the end and then back, where he said,“Any word?”

Guy could only shake his head. “Not yet. But, they haven’t called for any more medical assistance. Just for the two and those were non-life threatening injuries, so she’s probably fine.”

John didn't reply. The words stuck in his throat. All he could think about was the last conversation the two of you had. He was pissed off because you were supposed to go to dinner and you canceled because your reading for school was piling up and you had to get caught up. He’d acted like a spoiled git because you needed to catch up on things. And why did you need to do so?

Because he demanded you put him first. 

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

He sighed now. “I should’ve never walked out. I should have stayed there and insisted we work it out. Fuck.”

“What?”

He looked over at Guy. “We broke up because I was jealous. She was going back to school and all of the sudden didn't have any time for me—at least as I saw it. And I got mad. Told her to get her priorities straight, meaning put me first. She rightfully told me to fuck off and here we are and Christ, now here we are and I don’t know if she’s one of the injured and I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”

“Yeah, John,” Guy replied softly, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do…”

Your hands shook and Tyler tightened his about one of yours as he said, “We made it. We’re okay. It’s over.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat seized up as you looked first at the hand wrapped about yours, and then at the kids still in the classroom. Lisa. Deja. Donna. Tyler. Suriya. Elena. Nicole. Cameron. Dante. Gil. Samantha. Cody. Jaxon. Mackenzie. They were all there, alive and well and in one piece physically. They all looked shaken up, pale and so very young. But you managed to smile. “Text your parents,” you said softly. “Tell them you’re all okay.”

“Are you all all right?” An officer came into the room. “Is anyone injured?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head, tightened your hands into fists again to hold the shaking at bay. “We are all fine.”

“Okay. McMichaels,” he looked over his left shoulder, “escort them out to the main parking lot.”

“Got it.” A second uniform came into the room and you tried not to pay much attention to how they just stepped around the prone figure on the floor. Tried not to pay much attention to the blood pool that slowly widened under him. 

The gunman still lay on the floor, half in the classroom, half in the hallway. A small hole in the first window was the only evidence that a sharpshooter from across the courtyard had impressive aim.

“Come with me, guys,” you told them softly, catching Tyler’s hand to help him to his feet. “Don’t look at him. Just look straight ahead, okay? Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

They followed McMichaels, and you followed them and you tried to ignore the controlled chaos around you of paramedics and stretchers, of shattered glass, expended shell casings, and the lingering acrid scent you assumed was from the gunfire. 

“Right this way.” McMichaels led you down the main staircase and past the main office, out into a deceptively sunny, beautiful November afternoon.

As you stepped outside, you saw John and your heart stopped. You’d never been so happy, so relieved to see someone. He was pacing like a caged tiger, but then he stopped and spun about and as his steel-blue eyes met yours, he made a beeline for you.

“Thank Christ,” he growled as he swept you into his arms, crushing you close, one hand buried in your hair, his other arm so tight about you, you could barely breathe. “You’re all right, love? Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. My kids are fine and I’m fine,” you managed to grit before your throat tightened and your eyes overflowed. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms about his neck and clung to him, breathing in the sinful scent he always carried—sandalwood, eucalyptus, cinnamon.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back, squeezing you until you thought he might actually squash you. He lifted you off your feet briefly. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

“I’m okay,” you told him, sniffling as he set you down and you stepped back. “You didn't need to come—”

“Yeah, I did. As soon as the call came over, we were on our way.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs moving slightly along your cheeks in the soft caress that you loved so much. You just gazed up at him, at that handsome, angular face, into those pale blue eyes. He had a way of making you feel so tiny and delicate. Maybe it was his size—he was nearly six-foot-three and all broad shoulders and wide chest. Maybe it was that he was former military and just exuded that confidence about him. You didn’t know and you didn't care. All you knew was you’d missed him. 

“Can we talk?” he murmured. “I mean, once you’re cleared to leave?”

“Do we have anything to talk about?”

“I hope so. I’ve missed you.”

“Really.” You tried not to lose yourself in his beautiful blue eyes. “What about Stephanie?”

“She was a mistake. And will probably be very glad to never hear from me again because she knew my mind was on you the entire time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Guy. I’ve been miserable. I don’t like sleeping alone any more. But, trouble is, the only woman I want to sleep with is you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that. “John—”

“I was an asshole, love,” he broke in softly. “And I do hope you’ll give me another chance. I promise you, I will make it up to you.”

“John, I—” You sighed softly. “No, you weren’t an asshole. At least, not entirely. I was, too, and I’m sorry. I expected you to just sit and wait until I had time and that’s not fair to you, either.”

“So, why don’t we start over?” He leaned in to brush your lips with his. “Want to grab dinner or something tonight?”

You smiled. “I’d like that, yes.”

“Good.” He swept a light kiss against your lips once more, then as he straightened up, he said, “Come on, let’s get you away from here.”

“Please,” you said, shaking as your adrenaline finally slowed up and a sudden wave of utter exhaustion slammed over you, “I just really want to go home now. Go home and have a strong drink.”

“Are you okay? Do you need one of the medics?”

“I’m fine. Just shaken up. He never got into our room. He got the door opened and then a bullet came out of nowhere and—” The image flashed through your mind and you shuddered involuntarily, your gaze sweeping across the school lawns. You saw a few of your students still there, and your throat squeezed shut once more. “Thank God none of my kids was hurt.”

“From the looks of it, the injuries were all minor. You were all lucky.”

You nodded slowly. “I know, but still…”

“Come on.” He slid an arm about your shoulders and guided you away from the building, whose entrance was being cordoned off with crime scene tape. You had no idea how long it would be closed for, and you really didn't care at the moment. You just wanted to go home.

With John. 

***

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