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loonylupinblack3 · 6 months ago

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Powerless

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: extremely toxic!rafe, violence, swearing, many threats issued

Summary: you hate being a Pogue. Hate how vulnerable and weak and powerless it makes you. Rafe reinforces this for you.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: heavily based off of season 1 episode three of obx when pope is delivering groceries and Rafe jumps him. also the ferrari sf90 spider is actually my favourite car so i yapped about it a lil bit :)

You were helping Heyward load the grocery bags onto the boat alongside Pope and JJ, stacking the bags of food and other knick knacks in the middle of the vehicle.

“You kids get these groceries over to Figure Eight,” Heyward instructed, grunting as he lifted a pair of heavy bags off the dock and moved over to the boat, Pope, waiting at the ready, taking them from his father. “Get straight back here when you’re done.” He gave you a pointed look. “No fishing.”

You grinned at him, saluting him as you grabbed a pair of bags from him and placed it on the boat. JJ was right next to you, with Pope behind, the three of you working in tandem.

“I promised delivery by this afternoon,” Heyward continued. “Rich folk don’t want to wait for you lazy sons-” Seeing JJ with his arms already outstretched waiting for another bag of groceries and a beaming smile on his face gave Heyward pause. “Oh, JJ, thank you.” As soon as JJ grabbed the groceries he continued. “-sons of bitches.”

He glanced at you. “Excusing you, of course, Y/n. You’re always a delight.”

You beamed at him and JJ gave a scoff. “How come you get all the praise and I get nothing?”

You sniffed, flipping your hair to the side. “‘Cause I’m better.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are-”

Heyward interrupted the two of you. “Hey, alright enough. No bickering. Get your asses moving and deliver these groceries.”

You all gave the man a salute and entered the cabin part of the boat as Pope started it up. Heyward didn’t trust JJ enough to drive the boat and knew you’d end up going the wrong way with your poor sense of direction, so Pope was in charge of steering the vehicle.

You drove through the river, leaving the Pogue side behind and entering Figure Eight, the Kooks domain. You noted the large houses, clean and tidy, and the smooth way they all seemed to be running with enough electricity and clear running water to their heart's content.

“Doesn’t even look like the storm hit there,” Pope exclaimed in indignation. No doubt he was thinking about your own houses, all of them damaged in some way and not yet fixed.

JJ twirled a pocket knife in his hands. “That’s because they got generators, bro. Get used to it.”

You scowled, shaking your head. “And then they say the juice will be out all summer at the cut.”

Pope shook his head, jaw clenched. “Nice to be a Kook.”

You nodded your head in agreement as JJ said, “lucky bastards.”

“One day I’m gonna become a Kook,” you said. “Dunno how yet, but I’m gonna go full Kook, with a pool, mansion, Ferrari SF90 Spider.”

JJ and Pope both groaned as you mentioned your favourite car, again. Sometimes they found you just never shut up about it, going on about the horsepower, the V8 engine, the fact it was the very pinnacle of Ferrari technology, with the thrill and versatility of open top driving.

“Time for you to stop talking,” JJ said, commandeering the conversation. You didn’t mind, content to listen to him for the rest of the way to Figure Eight, where you docked the boat and divvied out the grocery bags between you.

You and Pope were gonna go together, with JJ taking the rest and heading in the other direction. You bid each other quick goodbyes and hurried with Pope, walking around the unfamiliar streets. Everything looked so much nicer here, from the pavement to the shops lining the streets, everything inside looking like it cost more than a week's worth of your pay.

You took a shortcut, walking through the golf course instead of around it. The employees let you through without a second glance. It was surprising what you could get away with as a Pogue working in Figure Eight. The two of you walked on the side of the golf course, talking under your breaths as you looked around cautiously.

“I’m also going to golf here every week,” you stated, watching a particularly fit woman swing a golf club, her muscles flexing with exertion.

You could almost imagine it being you, the golf club, hat, skirt, everything. If you really thought about it, the girl almost looked like you, similar hair colour and figure.

Pope laughed. “You hate golfing.”

You shrugged, swinging the bags in your hands slightly as you walked. “Yeah, but it's what Kooks do isn’t it?”

“What is your obsession with being a Kook?” Pope asked. “I get being rich, everyone wants it, but you seem almost obsessed with it.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself when movement caught your eye. You involuntarily recoiled when you recognised Topper and Rafe heading towards you. Pope noticed too, muttering swear words under his breath and advising you to just walk past and ignore them.

“Hey what’s up guys?” Rafe asked, putting up an innocent facade. He used his golf club to stop your walking, pressing it to the box of beers in Pope’s hand. “Hey how much for one of those beers?”

Pope turned to the side, trying to push past. “They’re not for sale.”

Rafe made a tutting sound. “Wait, wait, wait.” He stopped Pope as he tried to pass, forcing the two of you to stay there. Topper was standing directly in front of you, creating a barrier of sorts across the pathway. “You can just give us one, then, right?”

You wanted to snap at him. Wanted to ridicule him, ask him if he knew what not for sale meant. You were scared though, and you knew it wouldn’t help you or Pope standing up to him like that.

“Or you can order one like everybody else,” Pope replied, again trying to push past.

Rafe was rougher this time, ignoring Pope’s struggles and shoving him back. The coil of fear in your gut tightened. “Listen. Wait, wait, wait, you’re not listening to me. Um…” he gestured with his hands. “You’ve got so many bro, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Got nothing man,” Topper chimed in.

You scowled. “They’re not ours, they’re already paid for.”

Rafe looked at you, surprised you spoke, and then all of his attention was on you. You regretted even speaking, because his attention was like a guillotine, one wrong movement and the blade would fall.

“Oh, already paid for?” Rafe asked. “Knowing you Pogues, you probably stole them, right?”

Before you could stop him he was in front of you, his golf club snagging at the plastic bags in your hands as he pulled. Everything fell to the floor, and you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.

“What the hell Rafe?!” You cried. “You owe us for that!”

He laughed, getting all up in your space. “Oh I owe you do I? I don’t owe you shit, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin, his fingers forcefully curling around your skin.

“Hey, get off her!” Pope yelled, grabbing Rafe’s shirt and yanking him back. You were grateful for the space, rubbing your jaw as the fear weighed you down, down, down.

Rafe spun around, “don’t fucking touch me you Pogue.”

“Come on man,” Topper said from his other side. They had him surrounded. “We just want a beer.” He made a lunge for it. “Just give us one of these.”

Topper and Pope were full on wrestling with the box now, and the fear was in your throat, especially when Rafe joined in, tripping Pope up and making him fall to the floor with a slam, rolling over a few times.

You gasped, going to him, but Rafe got there first. He had a bruise on his head, looking red and scratched. He scrambled upright, a hatred kindling in his eyes as he threw a punch. Rafe was ready though, avoiding it easily and using his golf club to slam into your friend's stomach. When he was bent over Rafe slammed it down again, Pope crumpling to the floor.

You couldn’t watch it anymore. As he raised his club again you moved forward, shoving him to the side. You only managed to move him because he wasn’t expecting it, and even Topper looked surprised, doing nothing to stop you because really, how much damage can a girl do?

You planted yourself in front of Pope, and when Rafe, laughing in disbelief, walked up to you, you were ready. You swung your fist but it was in poor form, Rafe catching your wrist mid-movement. His grip was tight enough to make you wince.

“Getting involved?” Rafe asked you, moving forward until you were chest to chest. “That’s cute.” His voice was low and mocking. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

You yanked your arm back. That was the second time he’d grabbed you and your skin felt dirty, his fingerprints crawling all over you. Rafe just seemed amused, a cruel delight in his eyes. There was no fear in his expression and why would there be? He was a Kook. He had his friend right behind him ready to defend him if needed. His real competitor was still on the floor, pain immobilising him. No, there was no fear in his expression, only a sick satisfaction of knowing exactly how much control he had over this situation.

Pope gave a groan, attempting to pull himself upright but Rafe didn’t even glance at him. His focus was zeroed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach churn. “What’s it like, being a Pogue? Being powerless?”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something humiliating and knock his ego down a few inches, anything to stand up against him. Rafe seemed to know you too well though, grabbing your jaw in a bruising grip, his fingers cold and rough. More threat than affection. “You’d be better off with me, y’know that?”

It wasn’t a flirtation he spoke to you – it was a threat. You could hear the danger in every word, the treacherous promise that he’d never leave you alone, that this sick game of his would only end on his terms. You could see the lines between desire and control blurring, and nauseatingly realised that Rafe’s affection for you might be even more dangerous than his fists.

You tried to jerk away, revolution surfacing inside you but Rafe only tightened his grip. “Nah, don’t do that,” he warned almost lazily. “Don’t make me hurt you too.”

You wanted to cry. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall. You’d hate to give him the satisfaction of seeing them roll down your face. All of this was a game to him, a test to see how much fear he could wring out of you. The worst part was you knew he would do it, just because he could.

Your gaze darted to Pope, your friend just managing to sit upright. Topper was standing to the side, an uneasy expression on his face. You didn’t want Rafe to escalate things any further, because you knew he would, just to prove a point. He noticed your line of sight and forcibly pulled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

“You’re lucky I like you,” his breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. An edge of cruelty laced his tone, as did delight, the same one a kid would get from playing with their toys, which was what you were to Rafe. “Otherwise you’d be right there next to him.”

Before you could answer he shoved you back, hard enough to make you stumble. A sickeningly smug smirk was on his face as he picked up two cans of beer off the ground, chucking one to Topper.

“Catch you later Sweetheart,” he called to you, going as far as sending you a wink, acting like everything had just been harmless fun, which you guessed it was to him.

You watched him saunter away, leaving a mess in his wake that he seemed to do everywhere. Except this time it was worse, because with a sickening dread you realised the next thing he’d leave a mess would be you.

And you suddenly had an answer to Pope’s earlier question. Why did you want to be a Kook so badly? It was simple, really. This whole interaction had just reinforced the feeling that you were too vulnerable, too weak. And the answer appeared from the ashes of Rafe’s destruction, a truth you guarded with your heart.

You didn’t want to be powerless.

#rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #toxic rafe cameron #fanfiction #fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #pope heyward #jj maybank #pogues x reader

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 10 months ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #32

My baby, you’re my baby.

Imagine dis…

You know, I have the songs Mitski - I Bet on Losing Dogs and Reba McEntire - I'm A Survivor.

So in memory of the ever ending loop finally dissappearing and now replaced with Wake up by Llunr… Here it goes…

…

In the heart of Gotham, The Teen Titans who are being led by Tim Drake (Robin), along with Conner Kent (Superboy), and Bart Allen (Kid Flash) are fighting a powerful magician. They had managed to hold their ground, but they were unable to pass the unending minions summoned by the magician, nor could they land a decent hit on the magician, who was fighting fire with fire. Knowing they needed magical ability, they asked Zatanna to handle the caster while they focused on the minions.

The air crackled with electricity as spells collided and blended in a frantic dance of light and power. Just as they were ready to gain the upper hand, two opposing spells from Zatanna and their opponent collided in what appeared to be a last-ditch attempt. A flood of raw, uncontrolled power surged toward them, wiping out the majority of the minions and now heading towards them, and before they could react, they were bathed in blinding light.

…

When the light went off, they found themselves in a completely dark room. Their senses heightened, and they stood alert, as all three of them wondered what the magic's effects would be. Light gradually appeared around them, presenting a scene that perplexed and concerned them.

A teenage male with dark hair stood in the center of the room, carrying a baby swaddled in a blue and star-printed blanket. The boy's eyes were sad and shiny, and his cheeks were swollen with unshed tears. He rocked the baby softly and sang a sweet tune. Surrounding him were walls and a small window that was too high and narrow for him to escape, but just right for a newborn baby.

On the other side of the window, another teen came this time with dirty blonde hair and freckles and bright green eyes. Crouching to look at the teen mentioned above, who is still humming as if in his little universe. He looked at the first teen, full of sadness and grief, and said, as no sound came from the scene, that it was time.

The dark-haired kid took a deep breath before pulling out a little necklace covered with snowflake decorations. He wrapped it around the baby's neck, his hands quivering. Tim automatically stroked the similar necklace that hung around his neck, disguised by the layers of clothes he wore.

Tim knew he was adopted; he had always known. He had always resembled his adoptive parents, Janet and Jack, making him the ideal heir to the Drakes. He had attempted to locate his biological parents but had only encountered dead ends. Now he understood he was seeing a long-forgotten memory.

The dark-haired teen gave the baby to the other kid, who cautiously reached through the window. As he did, Tim noticed the thick chains that shackled the dark-haired teen's body, blocking his escape. The boy stared at the infant one more time and mumbled something Tim couldn't hear.

The blonde teenager appears to convince the other teenager that he will find a suitable home for the baby he is currently carrying.

The dark-haired teen flashed a sorrowful smile and looked longingly at the baby, who was now struggling to wake up as if realizing that the person holding him was not his mom.

The blonde teen nodded and prepared his motorcycle, placing the baby who is now trying to have a crying feast in a sidecar alongside what appeared to be his dog with red eyes for further protection and sped off.

All three of them looked at the chained teen as he held his gaze to the vehicle up until it went smaller and smaller and until it vanished from his sight.

Just as they thought the scene was over they were immediately shattered as a large metal door that seemed to materialize behind them opened wide and out came walking someone they knew as they were already in the middle of investigating.

Vlad Masters

Someone who gained his wealth through mysterious ways that warrant an investigation as most of the deals are more favorable to Masters than to his so-called partners.

They saw Masters grab the teen roughly and began hissing through gritted teeth something, leaving bruises wherever he handled the chained teen.

The teen, on the other hand, seemed so detached, as if he completely removed himself from the present as he let Masters rough handle him.

…

Tim wanted to scream, to rage as both of his teammates were already holding him back from running towards something they know is something of the past.

That is his parent GODDAMMIT!, Tim raged in his mind, usually he would have been calm and collected, logical, and gathered the facts. But a single memory made all of his restraints snap.

All Tim ever wanted was to be loved, something he never received during his stay with the Drakes. Both Janet and Jack kept on mentioning how Tim should be grateful that he is the one chosen to stay under their roof with thousands of dollars at his fingertips.

But here he was watching something he was too young to remember, something that his head kept flashing.

The soft hum of a melody that he would sometimes hear deep within his mind as he tried to cry himself to sleep.

A single necklace is a connection between him and his biological parents.

Watching how helplessly his father was? Mother? Be abused, be chained down.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t find a lead, Masters sent someone to handle the blonde teen who brought him to a nice orphanage before the Drake couple adopted him.

…

The scene faded as Tim, Conner, and Bart were brought back to reality. They awoke to find Zatanna watching over them, her expression filled with concern.

Zatanna said that they had been bound in a deep memory spell, which the magician had created to capture them in a recurrent memory, rendering them unable to discern between the memory and the real world. However, because she also sent out her counter, it only displayed a fleeting memory to stop them from ending up like Sleeping Beauty.

She chuckled as she glanced at them questioningly, hoping for the best, and thought they witnessed a memory that reminded them of a dark time during their hero times.

Tim sat up, still holding the necklace. He had observed a memory from his past that he had never known existed. It wasn't just a last-ditch attempt at a spell; it was a look into a long-held secret that he had forgotten.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #danny phantom

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foldingfittedsheets · 7 months ago

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So yesterday we frantically researched cars and electric vehicle credits that could help up buy one. I picked a dealership specifically based on a rebate for EVs. We called to make sure they had the car we wanted to see and a young man said they did and told us to ask for him when we arrived.

When my beloved hung up the phone I gleefully whispered, “He sounds weak. Perfect.” I wasn’t being serious but it made them laugh.

We arrived and waited for him to bring the car around and when he popped up he was a young man clearly new to the sales industry. He talked at high speed but struggled to actually clarify benefits. He did not ask a single question about us.

In the test drive we specifically mentioned the EV credit and he agreeably talked about how he wished he’d waited a few months to get his dad a car since the credit came out after. We commiserated and I marveled at the silences he left. I’ve been in sales so long and I cannot fathom not asking a customer questions about their lives.

When we got inside he gave a quote. It wasn’t terrible. I had leveraged in the need for the dealership to pay off the amount left on my beloved’s dead car, but I still shook my head and said we needed lower and pulled out my phone to shown a slightly worse Leaf I’d found in terms of mileage but still several thousand cheaper.

He went away. We waited. My beloved was concerned but I reassured them that whatever he came back with I’d accept. He came back with almost 3K lower as he’d finally added the EV credit. The one we called to ask about. The one we mentioned in the car and I’d hinted at twice.

I smiled and said I’d pay cash but I still can’t believe that kid. To not include the rebate we’d specifically come in for meant he’d had to drop his price even further which worked out great for us but was a wild misstep. I hadn’t been serious when I’d called him weak but this is the first car sale I went away not feeling taken advantage of.

#ramblies #car sales

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thanksbutno98 · 8 months ago

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Photo Album

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: Gaz and Soap are left to babysit the Price children; only they stumble upon some compromising photos.

Warnings: Sexual themes, NSFW, swearing, not edited.

——————

“Hey darling, anyway you can come give me a jump? I’m at the bakery and Grayson doesn’t have jumper cables and I left mine in your boot from the last time you came out.” John’s sultry voice came down the line.

You could hear the sweetness, almost flirtatiousness in his voice as he asked for a favor. Normally you’d be smitten hearing him talk to you with that low gravely tone reserved for the bedroom but not today. His car had been a sore subject between you two because he kept putting off fixing it. Which had resulted in you having to drive out to where ever he was to give his car a jumpstart.

“Soap and Gaz just got here. You sure Gray can’t help?” You breezed past his attempt to seduce you into a favor. John’s older brother wasn’t the most handy but there had to be something Grayson could do.

“Even if he could, the asshat drives an electric vehicle.” John went back to his normal speaking voice not attempting to use charm any longer. You’d been married long enough he could tell when it wasn’t going to work.

“Nothing wrong with saving the planet.” You chimed and could feel the eye roll John was giving you.

“Fuck. You think the boys would mind watching the kids for like an hour.” You asked John.

With a deep sigh you could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. This was completely out of his comfort zone, it was hard enough to get him to agree to having them over for dinner and a few drinks let alone watching his kids.

“Fine. You know they’ll say yes. Ghost didn’t come?” John all but groaned down the line.

“He’s coming for drinks after dinner. I’ll be there soon.” Before hanging up you made an obnoxious kissing noise down the line which caught your husband off guard. His laughter was the last thing you heard before you disconnected the call.

Slipping your phone in your back pocket you moved some of the food you had made into the oven warmer and then turned down the oven temperature so the roast wouldn’t overcook. Once you had things settled for dinner you made your way into the living room.

Your children were all doing separate tasks. Evelyn was lounged back in the far corner of the couch closest to the tv, flipping through a Lego catalog and circling things with a sharpie. While Jj sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and picked a game to play for the Nintendo switch. Lily was close by Soap which wasn’t surprising and the two were chatting. Soap and Gaz sat a cushion apart in the center of the couch with their beers sitting on coaster.

“Hey, do you guys mind watching the kids for just an hour? John’s car broke down and I have to go give him a quick jump.” Using your thumb you pointed behind you as you wanted to get going quickly so dinner didn’t run too far behind.

“You want me to do it?” Gaz was quick to ask.

“No it’s fine. Plus I have a feeling John picked up all the wrong pastries so I want to double check that too.” It was also an excuse to see your sister in law.

“No problem.” Soap nodded at you before taking a swig of his beer.

“Give Auntie Eloise a big hug for me!” Evelyn chimed with a huge smile. You kissed the top of her head and waved bye to Lily and Jj.

“Of course. You three behave.” You gave your children a pointed look. Jj who was kneeling on the floor with his back turned to you, stuck his thumb in the air and Lily nodded from her spot on the rug with the couch behind her.

“We always behave.” Evelyn gave you a cheeky smile which had you rolling your eyes.

“Yeah right.” You joked, getting a hearty giggle for the 11 year old. As soon as you were out of the house Evelyn turned to Gaz and Soap.

“Wanna to see pictures of mum and dad, that dad would never let you see.” Evelyn asked with the most devilish grin spreading across her face.

“Absolutely.” Gaz shook his head with a straight face.

“Hop to it, lass.” Soap encouraged the young girl to break out the photo albums of hopefully some embarrassing photos of their captain.

It only took you having one foot out the door for the middle Price child to be stirring up trouble. Evelyn tossed the catalog onto the coffee table then quickly jumped up from her spot and then off the arm of the couch. She made her way to the left corner of the living room where there were built in cabinets. Above the white cabinets were built in shelves that were identical to the other side of the wall. The fireplace was in the middle and above that was the TV.

Opening the cabinets Soap and Gaz leaned forward to see what was in there. There was a short stack of photo albums and then picture frames neatly set up on the same shelf. On the shelf below were old newspapers and then what looked to be signed baseball memorabilia from your home team. There was an old faded baseball cap, collectible cards, multiple baseballs encased in plastic on little wooden stands, and bobble heads of certain players. Evelyn slid the top two albums out and then stood to shut the cabinet doors.

“The other ones are grandpas and our nana Mae’s baby pictures. Mum keeps them here because she doesn’t trust grandpa.” Evelyn informed before Gaz or Soap asked about the rest.

“Here.” She happily smiled plopping the large albums down on to the coffee table.

Gaz grabbed the top one while Soap flipped the bottom one open and slid it in front of himself. Soap instantly started to laugh seeing a bare faced John Price with a huge cheesy smile and a large fish held up. Never in his life had Soap seen the Captain smile like such a dork, he looked almost child like. John still had that god forsaken bucket hat on but looked fifteen years younger than he did today. The hat wasn’t faded or frayed like it was today, showing how it had stood the test of time. The picture under that one was of you with John’s arm wrapped around you and in rain jackets. You had a baseball cap on while John was wearing his bucket hat, the both of you were wearing rubber boots that attached to your pants so you could stand in the water without getting wet. It was clearly the same day and you two had gone on a fishing trip together. You didn’t have a wedding ring on your finger and neither did John so it must have been from before you two were even engaged.

The pictures to come were from the same fishing trip of you trying to start a fire to John having climbed a large tree and lounging in the branches. This had to be your vacation album as it consisted of camping trips, trips abroad of you two zip lining, beach photos, you two drinking from coconuts, to a few pictures of the two of you absolutely trashed and out on the town. It was before you two were married and had children. It was interesting for the men to see their Captain had a fun side and he could clearly cut loose around you. It showed he was human after all.

As they got deeper into the album the trips turned into ones with John wearing a baby carrier with a tiny little Jj strapped to his chest. Soon the carrier held Evelyn and then the pictures consisted of the two oldest Price children growing up and climbing trees, going down water slides, and a cruise with you and their father in tow. As the album came to an end the baby carrier was back with Lily strapped to John’s chest and the final few pictures was the last Price family holiday. It was somewhere tropical with all your children burying John in the sand as he drank a margarita.

The photo album Gaz had was the one from your wedding day. The first four pictures were from a different day and the boys didn’t know it was the day you eloped. The wedding photos were professionally taken and Soap and Gaz had to admit John looked extremely dapper in his three piece suit while you were an absolute knockout in your wedding dress.

Lily had been leaning over to get a look at the photo albums too while Jj was playing switch and Evelyn was watching over his shoulder. Leaning over the coffee table and giving the Price children a mischievous look an idea had consumed Soaps mind.

“You got any embarrassing pictures of your dad?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

“There’s some silly pictures of daddy in the albums downstairs.” Lily was quick to whisper back.

“Look at you Lily, getting in to trouble! You’re spending too much time with Evie.” Jj got up and handed the switch to Evelyn and ruffled his youngest sister’s hair who then whined and batted him away. Plopping down on the couch behind her he put his feet on the coffee table which was right in Lily’s face.

“How are silly pictures of daddy getting into trouble. I don’t want trouble!” A large frown had taken over Lily’s face at even the mention of being in trouble.

The little girl would do anything to keep you and her father from being upset with her. She pushed Jj’s feet off the coffee table to get them out of her face but he simply put them back.

“If the photo albums are in the basement, where we’re not allowed, how are you going to get them?” Jj asked with a smug grin.

Lily was pushing with all her might to get his feet out of her face but they wouldn’t budge. Jj took it an extra step and touched her cheek with his clothed toe which made her shriek. The display had Soap and Gaz snickering as the two Price children continued to converse but fight at the same time.

“Well- I dunno. Ask mummy for them?” Lily was pushing and pushing but her brothers feet wouldn’t move.

She slipped falling forward into the rug and instead of getting mad she army crawled under Jj’s legs and popped up directly across from Gaz and Soap. It was easier to not fight with her brother and just move instead. Lily’s ability to not get upset with her brother’s obvious teasing had Soap laughing quietly while Gaz leaned over the table and gave Lily a fist bump. Jj was smugly snickering to himself for messing with his youngest sister, which was a lot more fun than messing with Evelyn. Evelyn had no problem squaring up to Jj and verbally or physically fighting him off; which made messing with her not as fun.

“Mum would give us away in a heart beat Lil.” Jj countered.

“Jj’s right. Here you go.” Evelyn slid into the living room with her pink socks against the smooth hardwood. No one even noticed she had left but now here she was holding a stack of photo albums.

“Ya little shit.” Soap chuckled as she handed him the albums over the back of the couch.

“Good on you, Evie. But don’t tell your dad we put you up to this.” Gaz gave her an expecting glance which had a sour look spreading across her face. She jumped over the back of the couch and grabbed the TV remote.

“We aren’t rats. Even Lily doesn’t rat anyone out.” It was clear Evelyn was offended at the doubt of her loyalty to the boys. She quickly changed the channel from whatever you had put on to an anime her, Jj, and Lily had recently started watching together.

“Yeah, I only ratted daddy out to mummy when he sneezed into her sundae and wasn’t going to tell her.” Lily spoke with pride about the single time she had thrown her father under the bus in the ice cream shop parking lot. John didn’t want to spend the money to buy you a new one and told her not to say anything but she still did.

“That was a good reason though Lil, I support that one.” Jj gave her an approving nod which had the five year old beaming.

The Price children all turned their attention from the boys to the new episode of their tv show. They had all seen these photo albums before so they weren’t interesting to them. Gaz shoved Soaps shoulder as they opened the large black album on top and boy, the pictures didn’t disappoint.

The two men were belly laughing seeing pictures of the stoic Captain Price as a teenager with acne and hair spiked with way too much gel. There was one of fifteen year old John playing the guitar and he looked to be belting out the words to whatever song he was playing. Soap took a picture of it on his phone. Just the idea of Price singing loudly did something to them. They could barely imagine him humming along to music let alone serenading a crowd.

They worked through the album that consisted of you and John as teens, only you were in the US while he was here in the UK. The style of clothes were completely different. John didn’t dress too much different than he did now he just wore all his clothes two sizes too big and had long sleeves under his t-shirts. You on the other hand were a sight. Soap pictured you as a nerdy teen since you were so smart and progressed through school faster than the average person. His assumption was far from the truth.

There were pictures of you looking like an absolute punk. You had tattoos way younger than you should have had, a nose ring, and went through a black eyeliner phase. There was one in particular that Soap and Gaz couldn’t get over. It was of you sitting on top of someone’s roof, back leaning against the chimney, with a beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. You were smiling so big your eyes were shut and you couldn’t have been older than 17. You were dressed in acid washed ripped baggy jeans and a tight nirvana long sleeve shirt, before nirvana was considered cool. Seeing this side of you and John made it feel like you weren’t always these put together parents who seemed to have life figured out.

The last album was a thin one that the boys weren’t expecting much of.

“Flimsy little thing.” Soap grabbed the last album which was a thin leather bound book. It was significantly lighter than the others so he was expecting it to be more wedding photos or something.

Opening up the album Gaz and Soap stiffened like boards. The first picture in the album was of you. But it was no ordinary picture of you like they had just seen. It was obviously professionally done and very well shot. You looked younger but not by much which was a testament to how well you’d aged since these photos were taken when you and John were engaged.

You were kneeling on a fluffy white bed in a very risqué set of red lingerie that hugged your curves oh-so perfectly. It had your tits bulging and didn’t do much to cover them or any other part of you. In fact the fabric was sheer so almost everything was on display leaving little to the imagination. Your bottom lip was caught between your pearly whites and you had ‘fuck me’ eyes.

The boys knew you were hot it was kind of hard not to notice, especially with their Captains lingering eyes on you. But this was a whole different level of the two of them finding their Captains wife to be a beautiful woman, you were fucking sexy.

Soap snapped the book shut realizing they absolutely needed to stop staring, this wasn’t for their eyes. The two men shared a look, both being in utter shock at this discovery. Neither of them said a word but Gaz watched as Soaps thumb moved to a deeper page and flipped it open for only a second. They barely got a look of you with your face pressed into the fluffy cotton sheets and your rear in the air before Soap snapped the book shut again.

“Damn.” Kyle said under his breath.

“Okay, we’ve seen what we needed. We should put these back.” Soap coughed not sure if Kyle approved of curiosity getting the better of him for a quick second look. Kyle didn’t respond but started at the shut photo album clearly mulling over something is his head.

“Good idea.” He spoke hesitantly. And then shook his head a bit more confidently. They had no business looking in there and needed to respect your privacy even if they both wanted to pour over the pages.

“Evie where’d you get these?” Soap asked as he gathered the books.

“The basement.” She hummed eyes still focused on the tv.

“Where in the basement.” Soap asked a bit exasperated at the lack of detail.

“Dad keeps them in the left side bottom drawer of his desk under the manila folders but over the blue files.” She gave a very detailed explanation taking both Kyle and Soap off guard.

“No wonder she doesn’t get caught.” Kyle said to Soap under his breath.

“Lass is just like her old man.” Soap joked as the two men made their way to your basement door near the kitchen.

“Nah, that’s Indy.” The mention of you had both of them blushing. Their eyes darting down to the little back book that sat on top of the pile.

“We should-“ Gaz pointed at the book.

“Put it away, before Cap gets home.” The response had both men rushing downstairs realizing it had almost been an hour so you two were bound to be home any minute.

“We should figure out what it’s called. So when we have ladies of our own they can get one made.” Gaz said offhandedly as they jogged down the creeky stairs of the basement.

“Agreed.”

——————

“So what did you guys do while we were out?” You smiled sweetly and glanced across the faces of your children.

You were surprised when you and John got home that the house wasn’t engulfed in flames. Your normally trouble makers were all watching tv calmly with fizzy drinks they knew they weren’t allowed to have. You chalked it up to them taking advantage of Soap and Gaz because they didn’t know the house rules and simply reminded them this wasn’t allowed. All three of your children played dumb as if they’d never heard this rule before.

Nothing was broken, the food wasn’t sneakily picked over or had little teeth marks in it. Everything looked to be exactly where you left it which was a sensation you weren’t use to. Whenever you got a sitter or someone watched your kids there was bound to be something that happened. Whether that be coming home to tears because someone was teasing someone else or the sink was clogged with glitter glue because they tried to make slime for the thousandth time.

“Watched tv. Oh, and we looked at vacation photos.” Lily spoke happily around her spoon.

“You three showed off pictures? Why?” John was instantly annoyed. He hated the idea of Soap and Gaz getting a glimpse at his personal life and younger years. To them he wanted to be the stoic Captain he was proud to be. Not the bumbling fool he felt like when you two were first together.

“Yeah, saw some good ones!” Gaz chuckled.

“Didn’t realize you were such a rebel as a teen, Indy. I was expecting you to be a dork. Not smoking on a rooftop.” Soap referred to the pictures him and Gaz found the funniest. He about chocked on his food realizing he picked a photo from the album he wasn’t suppose to see.

This had John perking up. He knew what pictures Soap was referring to and he knew for a fact his own teenage photos sat in the same album, in his desk downstairs. The embarrassing photos of his younger self were absolutely not something the soldiers in his command needed to see.

Stopping midchew John’s mind wandered to the thin square photo album you’d given him on your honey moon, that also sat in that desk drawer. It was a boudoir book that kept John and his right hand company on days you weren’t around.

With narrowed eyes John’s eyes locked on Soap who was busying himself by eating. Gaz was too respectful to look through it but John was suspicious that the Scotsman was just cheeky enough to take a peek. The thought of Soap having seen your round ass in the air or that one tastefully done nude photo as the last one, had John’s blood boiling.

“That the only album you rifled through?” John voice was deeply gruff, a threat hidden behind the words.

You looked to your husband completely confused at his change in demeanor. He went from being his normally annoyed self to looking ready to murder. Under the table you placed your hand on his knee and squeezed, silently asking him to give you some sign.

“Wh-what? We didn’t go through anything we weren’t suppose to.” Soap sputtered out coming off completely guilty.

Kyle would have face palmed if it wouldn’t have given them away. It was the stress of having seen you in such a compromising pose that had Soaps normal ability of deceit faltering. He couldn’t get the image of you out of his head and now he was cursing himself for having looked.

“Woooooooow.” Evelyn looked at both of them with a crooked grin.

“What?” Soap and Gaz asked the little girl in unison.

“Dad’s a lot harder to fool than that.” She quipped knowing her dad well enough he was wearing the same face he always did when she was caught red handed.

“It was just the goofy pictures of you and mummy when you were little.” Lily came to Soap and Gaz’s defense.

“And how did they find those photos?” The pointed question had Lily’s mouth visibly clamping shut.

“Wasn’t me.” Evelyn and Jj blurted out just a second apart.

“What have we said about going in my and your dad’s offices? You know the rules.” You looked at your children with a stern expression. This is what they got into while you were gone.

“Basements off limits.” The three Price children solemnly spoke in unison.

“Who got it?” John was stern yet calm as he demanded to know.

Lily, Evelyn, and Jj all looked between each other with straight faces and then to you. They looked at you as if you would be the one to get them out of this but you shook your head no. Normally when their father was cross when it wasn’t necessary you’d step in but you weren’t now.

“If none of you own up to it then none of you get dessert.” The threatening words John spoke didn’t seem to do much.

The three stayed eerily silent, neither of them willing to call out Evelyn who would never admit to it. They wouldn’t even look at each other making sure they didn’t give anything away.

“Fine then no dessert. Go shower, then to your rooms.” John concluded with a heavy sigh. This was far from the first time his children had a group punishment because they were too loyal to one another.

Soap and Gaz were impressed at the unity they showed. None of them faltered for even a moment and they were taking the punishment with no complaint.

“Go on, march.” John ordered and all his children silently got up and put their dishes in the sink. They were quick to run upstairs to go deliberate on how Evelyn was going to make this up to them, which usually consisted of her handing over some of her stash of candy or helping with chores.

“How do you tell who did it?” Gaz asked you feeling a bit apprehensive to speak to the Captain.

“We can’t really. It’s usually a toss up between Evie and Jj. On the rare occasions it’s Lily who did something by mistake but was too scared she’d get in trouble so the other two cover for her. We end up finding out later on, if at all.” You shrugged.

“Can’t crack the case, sir?” Soap joked.

Locking eyes with John he could see the fiery rage behind them. John was stone faced and looking into Soaps soul, knowing exactly what album he had stumbled upon. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white and his mustache was twitching, which was a sign to you he wanted to start shouting.

“What is going on with you?” You asked John, lightly nudging his shoulder with your hand.

“That boudoir book was with the rest of the photo albums.” John spoke evenly but his words were coated in acid.

Soap and Gaz both mentally noted it was called a ‘boudoir book.’

“Oh.” You blinked rapidly a few times having completely forgotten about your scandalous photo shoot from all those years back. Looking over to Soap and Kyle they both quickly looked down at their plates avoiding your gaze in particular.

“Well, I hope you liked what you saw cuz that’s all you get.” You joked with a honey suckle laugh.

“Y/N!” John snapped at you not expecting that to be your reaction. He was expecting you to be enraged or self conscious that Soap and Gaz had seen you like that.

“What? I looked good, can’t deny that.” You shrugged John off and went back to eating.

If you were honest you weren’t embarrassed at all. You spent a lot of money on those photos and knew you looked damn good in them. It was from before you had children so you felt that your body was tight and absolutely rocking. So if the boys were ever going to accidentally see you naked those were absolutely the photos you’d pick.

Both Soap and Gaz were trying to hold a straight face but Soap honestly found you hilarious so his expression was contorted as he tried not to laugh. Your humor broke the tension and had him not feeling as guilty for taking that last extra peek.

“You two are never allowed to baby sit again.” John hissed at them. Getting up from his spot he snatched his half eaten dinner and stormed over to the trash to chuck the rest of it out then put his plate in the sink.

“You act like that’s a threat John.” You joked which had him turning to look at the two men left at the table.

“Oh the threat hasn’t come yet. You two just wait for when we’re back on base. I’m going to work you until you wish you were dead.” John spat the words out, his face fixed in a furious scowl.

“I bet they’re thinking it’s still worth it. I know for a fact you would.” You winked at your husband. That seemed to be his breaking point and Kyle swore he could see the steam coming from John’s ears.

“ENOUGH!” John shouted before storming out to the living room.

Soap and Gaz looked to you expecting you to be cross having just been shouted at, but you weren’t. You were laughing to yourself and turning rosy cheeked.

“It’s so much fun getting a rise out of him.” You breathed out through your laughter.

“We’re so sorry Indy. We had no idea what it was.” Gaz told you earnestly.

“Oh I totally understand how you would mistake it for a normal photo album. Just don’t go telling anyone about it. It was my wedding present to John.” You didn’t mind because it was an accident. It’s not like they were rummaging through your things and stumbled upon it.

“Of course ma’am.” Kyle reassured.

“Secrets safe with us.” Soap added on.

“Where did you-“ Gaz jabbed Soap in the ribs so he couldn’t continue with his question.

“It was a while ago but if you have a certain young lady in mind I can send along the woman’s contact who did it for me.” You nodded at Soap and winked at Gaz before grabbing your plate and heading to the sink.

For some reason, seeing you wink at him made Gaz blush and feel weirdly smitten although he knew you were only being playful; you only had eyes for John. Grabbing the box of pastries you plated them as the two military men quickly got to cleaning up. You tried to stop them but they insisted it was the least they could do for over stepping and breaching your privacy. You thanked them and told them to help themselves to the beer in the fridge while you went to check on your brooding husband.

John was sitting in the center of the large white U shaped couch with his arms crossed over his chest. He was watching the news and ignoring you as you were clearly trying to catch his attention. His biceps were bulging out of his white short sleeve t-shirt, his eyebrows were knit together, and he wore a mean look.

“You okay?” You asked sweetly, placing the plate of pastries in front of your husband.

“No.” He grumbled leaning forward and snatching a blueberry tart and then shoving the whole thing in his mouth. You watched as crumbs fell on to his shirt and he angrily chewed. Sitting next to your burly man you wiped the crumbs off of his chest and then place a sensual kiss to his bearded face.

“I know you’re upset because you’re the only one who’s suppose to see me like that. B-“

“You’re bloody right! I’m the only one who has the privilege.” John snapped right back, turning and looking at you. You softly grabbed his mutton chopped cheeks making him soften only slightly. Slowly and softly you kissed his lips once, twice, and then deeply a third time. Each kiss had him softening a little more.

“How about we do a new photo shoot tonight. And this one will absolutely be for only you.” The words had John’s anger diminishing greatly, but he still held on to his mean look although his tone had become bashful.

“Hm, I’ll have to think about it.” John grumbled trying to stay mad but you were doing an excellent job at distracting him.

“Yeah?” You whispered before leaning in to whisper in your husbands ear. One hand slid down to cup his head by the nape of his neck while the other lightly ghosted over his crotch.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Tie me up, boss me around, or even that thing you showed me from that video-“

“Okay, we can do that!” John eagerly shook his head more than willing for you to make this up to him although it wasn’t your fault what so ever. He remembered stumbling across some very interesting content on his laptop and contemplating on showing you his discovery. It was such a tantalizing video he found himself with you sitting in his lap watching along side him as he lightly pushed for you two to give it a try.

“Now, be nice to the boys. It was an accident.” You kissed John’s cheek sweetly, your voice sweeter than sugar.

“Not sure I can do that.” He grumbled back, leaning forward to chase after your lips. You stopped him by pressing your hand against his chest.

“Well no to that new thing then.” You said nonchalantly with a shrug. John instantly regretted his comment but didn’t want you to know he would easily give in, he still had to play tough.

“You’re bribing me?” John asked with a quirked eyebrow and playful smirk. He was trying to call your bluff. You got up from your spot, placing your hands on his knees and leaning forward so your were nose to nose.

“Yes, because I know it’s going to work.” You purred before placing a feather light kiss to John’s lips. You started to stand, hands running up John’s thick thighs and leaning forward as you did, so your breasts passed by John’s watering mouth.

“I’m going to put the kettle on. Be nice.” You winked before leaving the living room.

You swayed your hips a little extra knowing John’s eyes would be locked on to your ass. The groan he let out was nothing but satisfying to you. You had gotten him right where you wanted him and loved toying with him. You glanced over your shoulder to see John sinking deeper into the couch and then gazing down at his lap, trying to get rid of his growing problem.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Lost in the Crowd

Summary: Glen surprises his Swiftie girlfriend with VIP tickets to The Eras Tour. The night is supposed to be magical. But due to some missteps with Glen’s security team the night doesn’t quite go as planned.

Warnings: Unwanted Physical Contact (being grabbed without consent)

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a mix of a one-shot I started sometime last year, paired with a request from @hunterthecharmer. Hope you guys like it! ♡♡

The city starts to fade as the black SUV pulls onto the final stretch of road leading to SoFi Stadium. Even with the windows up, you can feel the electricity in the air. The distant pulse of music, the collective thrill of thousands of voices buzzing with anticipation, and rows of cars all heading to the same place. Neon lights flash against the night sky, illuminating the massive stadium in shades of pink and purple.

The moment you spot the giant screens displaying Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour, your breath catches. You turn to Glen, eyes wide with disbelief, but he’s already watching you, a slow, satisfied grin stretching across his face.

“Surprise, sweetheart.”

Your heart pounds. “Glen—are you serious?”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Figured I’d finally see what all the hype is about. And what better way than to experience it with my favorite Swiftie?”

The reality hits you all at once. You’re here. At The Eras Tour. With Glen, your sweet, kind, loving, caring, amazing boyfriend. In a matter of minutes, you’ll be inside, singing at the top of your lungs with thousands of others.

Outside the car fans flood the sidewalks in sequins, fringe, and rhinestones, friendship bracelets stacked up their arms. The sheer joy radiating from the crowd is contagious. People are laughing, posing for pictures, trading bracelets. All completely wrapped up in the magic of the night. The moment the SUV slows near the VIP entrance, screams erupt. Phones flash, cameras lift, and suddenly, the excitement is tinged with a new kind of energy.

Glen is used to this. He shifts effortlessly into his easygoing charm, offering waves and quick smiles through the tinted window. But before he even reaches for the door handle, his security team is already in motion. Four men, dressed in black, move in sync, positioning themselves around the vehicle. The second Glen steps out, the crowd surges closer.

Then he turns back to you. Reaching for your hand, he helps you out of the car, his touch warm and steady. The stadium looms behind him, massive and glowing, but for a second, all you see is him. The way his eyes search yours, making sure you’re just as excited as he hoped you’d be.

He leans in, voice low. “Ready?”

You squeeze his hand back, heart racing. “More than ready.”

As you and Glen make your way into the building, all around you Swifties in dazzling outfits move in excited clusters. Sparkling dresses inspired by every era catch the light—Fearless gold fringe, Red heart-shaped sunglasses, Reputation black sequins, Lover pastel dreamscapes.

Girls pass by wearing cowboy hats and "Not a Lot Going on at the Moment" T-shirts, some wrapped in bedazzled denim jackets with lyrics hand-painted on the back. A group of fans nearby are trading friendship bracelets, their wrists stacked with colorful beads spelling out inside jokes and song titles.

A girl in a sparkly pink corset and white boots gasps when she sees Glen. “Oh my God, it’s Top Gun Ken!” she squeals, immediately grabbing her friend’s arm.

Glen lets out a breathy chuckle, flashing them a quick wink. The moment is pure joy, electric and contagious.

He turns to you, his hand still wrapped around yours, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Worth the surprise?”

Your heart swells. “Are you kidding? This is—”

A sudden shift in movement cuts your sentence short. The security team moves into position. Four guards subtly adjust their positions, closing in around you and Glen as the crowd thickens. They move in sync, fluid and professional, one stepping ahead, another flanking Glen’s right, the last two just a step behind.

You know they’re here for protection. For Glen’s safety. You understand the need for it. But as they shift, you are pulled away from Glen’s side.

You feel the shift before you fully process it. One second, you’re right at Glen’s side, his hand warm and steady in yours. The next, a strong grip clamps down on your arm. Before you can react, you’re being yanked backward.

A sharp breath catches in your throat as you stumble, your free hand instinctively pushing against the solid chest of the security guard hauling you away. The force of it wrenches your arm, almost painfully, as he moves you further from Glen.

"Hey wait, what the—" You try to pull away, but his grip is unrelenting.

Then, just as suddenly, the guard seems to recognize you. His gaze flickers to your face, registering who you are. His expression doesn’t shift, no recognition beyond simple protocol, but he reaches out anyway and grips your upper arm with firm pressure as he guides you closer to Glen.

Your breath catches as you pull away, brushing it off, but the action doesn’t go unnoticed. Glen catches it. All of it. In an instant, the easy warmth in his expression shifts.

His jaw tightens and he looks at the security guard. "No need to grab her like that, man."

The guard hesitates, the weight of Glen’s gaze pinning him in place. A beat passes, thick with unspoken tension.

Then a clipped, muttered apology. "I thought she was a fan. I was just-."

“Grabbing her?” Glen’s jaw tightens further. He slides his hand down to rest protectively on your lower back as you lean into his side. “Touch my girlfriend like that again and we’ll have problems.”

“Yes, sir.” The body guard quickly says.

Glen pauses for a second, his gaze still fixed on the security guard. Finally he takes a breath and continues walking. His arm sliding to fully wrap around you, pulling you against his side so that you can’t get separated or pushed away again.

The bodyguard keeps his eyes forward, saying nothing else. But there’s an unmistakable tension now, a sharp edge between him and Glen that wasn’t there before.

Glen doesn’t say anything else either. He doesn’t have to. But as he leads you forward, his hold on you doesn’t loosen. Not once. Glen keeps you close. His arm, still wrapped around you, slides down until his fingers find yours again. This time, his grip is firmer. Secure.

"You good?" he asks, leaning in so only you can hear. His voice is warm, low enough to cut through the noise.

You nod, squeezing his hand in return. "Perfect."

But then the crowd surges. The packed mass of people pushes forward, shoulder to shoulder, making space impossibly tight. Security tenses, adjusting their positions in sync. They form a tight perimeter - solid, unyielding, hyper-focused.

On Glen. Not You.

At first, you don’t think much of it. You stick close, trying to keep your footing as the wave of movement shifts.

But then someone bumps into you hard. Your fingers slip from Glen’s. You stumble just a step, and for just a second. But it’s enough. Another push from behind. You lose more ground.

And then suddenly he’s gone. Glen is gone. The wall of security closes around him, moving forward without you. None of them notice. Your heart slams into your ribs as you lurch forward, trying to squeeze between bodies.

"Glen!" Your voice is swallowed by the sheer deafening roar of the crowd. Music thumps from inside the stadium, laughter and conversation layering over it.

The movement of the crowd shoves you back again, and again. No one is looking for you. Glen’s security, his highly trained, ever-vigilant security, hasn’t even realized they lost you.

Your breath quickens, a flicker of panic starting to rise. You stand on your toes, straining to see over the crush of bodies, but Glen’s nowhere in sight.

Another shove. A sharp elbow clips your side. You stumble back, blinking rapidly as the flashing arena lights blur in your vision.

Meanwhile Glen glances at his side, and it hits him. You’re not there. He looks down at his hand that you had been holding and it’s empty. Glen stops in his tracks, scanning the faces around him, expecting to see you just a half step behind.

But you’re not there. His brows knit together as he realizes he doesn’t see you anymore. His usually easygoing demeanor evaporates, replaced by a rush of controlled panic. His chest tightens, his heartbeat thudding too loudly in his ears.

“Where is she?” The words are sharp.

His voice is low and even, but something about his tone makes all four security guards freeze. They turn to look at him, confused.

“Where’s my girlfriend?” Glen says again, voice raising slightly.

One of them glances around and then says, “she was just-” He then stops, realizing he doesn’t actually know where you are.

“You lost her?” His tone doesn’t change, but the air around them does. The guards who are all trained professionals, hired to keep him safe, all begin to realize they’ve messed up badly.

Glen exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as he doesn’t wait for them to figure it out. You’re lost in an arena filling up with seventy-thousand people. He doesn’t have time to waste.

He’s now moving through the crowd. His movements are fluid but frantic, but he’s not stopping. People shove and push, but nothing can slow him down now. His pulse is racing. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. The security guards struggle to keep up with his hurried pace.

With every step, that familiar flicker of dread takes root in his stomach. He can’t see you. He can’t feel your hand in his. You’re gone.

Meanwhile panic starts to seep into your chest. Where is Glen? He was just right there with you. He couldn’t have gotten very far, you think to yourself as you continue to scan the crowd for him. You try to hold yourself steady, taking deep breaths. This isn’t the end of the world. He’s nearby, he has to be nearby.

But then, it hits you—you don’t have your phone. Your outfit doesn’t have pockets, so Glen had your phone tucked into his jacket pocket, just in case you needed it.

You try to glance around, but the crowd of people are pressing in. There’s too much noise, too much movement. You can’t even tell if he’s near. You wish you could signal him, but you can’t even raise your arms without someone else bumping into you.

The world feels like it’s shrinking around you. You also can’t just meet him in the VIP area because you can’t get into the VIP area without him because he has your tickets too.

It’s then that your breath catches. There’s no way out of this. The sick feeling in your stomach twists tighter. You’re completely on your own in a crowd of thousands, no way to contact him, no way to find him.

Tears well up in your eyes, unbidden, but you blink them away. You can’t break down, not here, not now.

And just as you’re about to lose it, you hear it. “Sweetheart! Hey!” Followed by your name. The sound of your name rings through the chaos.

You whip your head around, trying to catch a glimpse. And there just a few rows of people away is Glen, his face a mix of relief and worry.

"Glen!" You say in relief

His feet are already moving, quick steps, weaving through the crowd toward you. He reaches you in seconds, grabbing your hand to pull you toward him.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,” he mutters, his voice low, soothing, but with an undertone of tension that you can’t ignore. The words are a relief—a promise that you’re safe again—but the intensity behind them makes your heart race just a little faster.

You can feel his quickened pulse and the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he realized you were gone as you wrap your arms around him. His relief is palpable as he tightens his hold on you, his movements steady but almost protective too.

The noise of the crowd begins to fade as the two of you make your way into the VIP area. It’s quieter here, more secluded, and Glen’s focus never wavers as he keeps you close to his side the whole way.��

But there’s a stillness to him now, as though something inside him is trying to process what just happened. The security team trails behind, but they don’t speak. Or they don’t dare to speak is more likely.

Once the door shuts behind them sealing off the noise of the crowd, Glen finally turns to face his security team.

His voice is low, calm, but there’s no mistaking the anger simmering beneath. “How did you lose her?”

The lead security guard stammers, his face paling. “It was crowded, sir. We were keeping you secure—”

Glen shakes his head, cutting him off with a look that speaks volumes. “And you didn’t think to watch her, too? She’s with me which means you’re here to keep her safe too.”

Silence. No one answers, and the tension in the room becomes suffocating. It’s not just the quiet. It’s the weight of a mistake that shouldn’t have happened, and the reality of how much you mean to Glen.

Then, the same guard who had overstepped earlier—the one who grabbed you—mutters something under his breath.

Glen doesn’t let it slide. His eyes flick to the man, his posture rigid but controlled. “What was that?”

The guard, not picking up on the severity of the situation, shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not our job to watch her. Our job is to protect you. That’s what you pay us for, right? She can handle herself.”

A cold silence follows. The air thickens. The weight of the words hangs between them, and even the other three guards shift uncomfortably as they sense the shift in the room.

Glen doesn’t move or react immediately, but something in his eyes darkens, a flicker of anger that’s carefully contained. He steps forward just enough to close the distance. It’s not a step that threatens violence, but one that exudes dominance.

“Let me get this straight,” Glen’s voice is deceptively calm and measured, but beneath it there’s a razor-sharp edge. “First you grab my girlfriend and try to jerk her around. Then you let her get separated from me in a crowd of thousands. You didn’t notice. You didn’t look for her. And now, instead of owning that mistake, you’re telling me it’s not your job?”

The guard opens his mouth to say something, but Glen doesn’t let him finish.

“You’re done.”

The words are cold, and they settle like ice in the air. The guard blinks, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

Glen’s gaze never wavers. His voice never rises. It’s smooth, calm, like a glacier moving at its own pace, unstoppable.

“You’re fired.”

The rest of the security team exchanges nervous glances, but no one dares speak up. The tension in the room is almost suffocating, and even the man who’s been dismissed doesn’t argue. He looks to his colleagues for support, but no one moves to help him. There’s nothing left for him here. He sighs and turns to leave.

Glen stands still, his focus now on the man in front of him, the lead security guard. Glen’s eyes narrow, and the silence between them stretches on, like a silent promise that this mistake will never happen again. And it’s clear to the other three men that it will be unacceptable if something like this happens again.

Finally Glen turns back to you, his expression softening as his gaze meets yours. His jaw loosens slightly, and the hard lines in his face relax just enough for you to see the concern beneath.

He steps closer, cupping your face gently in his hands. His touch is tender, a contrast to the cold tension that still hangs in the air.

“You okay?” His voice is quieter now, softer, but the intensity is still there.

You nod, and for a moment it feels like he’s not convinced. His brow furrows as he examines you.

“That should’ve never happened.” His tone is firmer now, more resolute, the promise in his voice unmistakable. “And it won’t happen again.”

His words are a reassurance. And you know deep down he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure nothing like this ever comes close to happening again.

The air in the VIP area is quieter and cooler. The crowd’s energy still pulses through the arena, but here it feels like the world is just a little smaller. It’s easy to forget the chaos that just unfolded, especially with Glen standing there

He lets out a breath like he’s finally exhaling the stress that had been building up in his chest over the past half hour. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“I didn’t mean to overreact,” he says, his voice now warm, an undertone of apology in the way his lips pull. “But I can’t just let something like that go.”

You smile up at him, a small, knowing grin. “I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing across his hand in a gesture of reassurance.

As the lights dim and the crowd’s roar grows to a crescendo, the energy of the arena shifts. The first chords of Taylor Swift’s opening song crackle over the speakers, and you can feel the rush of excitement flood back. The tension fades into the background, leaving only the vibrant, pulsating rhythm of the concert ahead.

Glen leans in, his voice low in your ear as the music begins, “You ready for this?”

You laugh, unable to suppress the excitement bubbling inside of you. “I was born ready.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with shared excitement. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he holds you against his chest, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of his body is a comforting contrast to the cool air around you.

For a moment, there’s nothing else but the two of you, surrounded by thousands of fans, but lost in your own little world. The excitement of the concert and the electric atmosphere sinks in deeper now, but it’s the quiet intimacy between you and Glen that makes this moment special.

You turn your head slightly to glance up at him, feeling his presence more than seeing it. He’s so calm, so steady, even now. He’s like an anchor that keeps you grounded no matter how chaotic everything else gets. His hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers splayed wide, holding you gently but firmly in place.

The music swells, and you can’t help but give in to the rhythm, moving with the crowd. But you stay connected to him, his grip on you never loosening.

As Taylor’s voice echoes through the stadium, the lyrics of the song perfectly mirror the way you’re feeling in this moment—alive, unburdened, and completely immersed in the experience.

Glen’s hand shifts, resting at your hips now, guiding you as you sway to the music. His touch is gentle as the crowd around you erupts in a chorus of voices singing along.

Every now and then his face dips closer to yours, lips brushing your ear as he sings softly along with the song, a private moment amid the sea of fans. His breath warm against your skin, creates an intimacy that only the two of you share.

With each song that passes you can feel the weight of the earlier tension lifting, swept away by the music, the crowd, and the ease between the two of you. The feeling of being protected and cherished is still fresh in your mind, but the electric pulse of the concert washes it away, leaving nothing but fun, laughter, and the joy of the shared experience.

You glance up at Glen, meeting his gaze, and for the first time all night, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. No words are needed between you now. Just the rhythm of the music, the feel of his hand on you, and the shared joy of the experience.

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