#john price x reader x simon riley

[pfhwrittes]

for ✨♥️🗡 anon.

a little drabble for the retail hell au. all fluff, no TWs needed i think. female!reader. "love" used as a pet name and john calls the reader a "good girl".

pairing(s): john price x female reader, simon riley x female reader (or even john price x female reader x simon riley if you squint)

600ish words; barely edited again.

-- it’s been a slow start to your shift on the checkouts. your manager for some reason has overscheduled the team, so you’re drifting between the customer service desk which is already covered and the checkouts which is fully staffed. truth be told, you're a little bit confused. you’ve never seen this many people working on front end. you make another slow circuit from the checkouts, offering to take carol off for a break if she wants to, and up to the customer service desk where you chat with megan for a few minutes before a customer wanders over with a bit of receipt paper. 

you’re on your way back to the checkouts when john gestures you over to join him and simon where they’ve been watching the checkouts discreetly from the end of one of the aisles. 

“y’look bored as fuck” simon states matter-of-factly when you join them. john rolls his eyes and sighs at simon’s bluntness before shooting you a small smile.

“what he means to ask love, is if you’d like to do a job for us?” john’s still smiling at you and you’re very briefly distracted by the way the skin around his eyes crinkles. you wonder if he knows you’ll say yes to anything he asks if he shoots you a smile. probably not. he’s got most of the store a-flutter for his blue eyes and old-fashioned charms as it is. 

you twist the bottom edge of your gaudy orange apron between your fingers as you fight against your initial reaction of yes sir, anything you want! and the more sensible approach. 

“what’s the job?” you ask, flicking your eyes over to simon who as always looks like he’d rather pull out his own teeth than be standing on the shopfloor. despite his gruff manner, you quite like simon. he’s funny underneath the front he puts on in front of customers and members of management he doesn’t respect. 

“babysittin’” simon fires off with a completely straight face, folding his massive arms across his chest. you get the impression that he’s trying to look more imposing that he already does. all it does is pull the slightly dusty black polo top he’s wearing tighter over his massive chest.

“babysitting?” you repeat dumbly. you fidget with your apron again and turn your attention back to john hoping that you don’t look as flushed as you feel. 

“i was hoping you wouldn’t mind givin’ simon a hand in the warehouse today, love.” john explains. 

“‘specially considerin’ your prick of a manager’s fucked up the schedule.” simon adds with a scoff. “man couldn’t fill out a rota even if the only thing he’s gotta do is sign his fuckin’ name on the top.”

you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at simon. he’s right, after all this isn’t the first time your manager has mucked up the schedules, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. he spots the way you tamp down on your smile and his lips tick up in a brief smirk in response. 

john reaches up to scrub his hand over his beard and your attention is caught by the way he purses his lips. you miss the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he clears his throat and you look away hastily to look over at the checkouts. 

“so what d’ya think then? gonna give us a hand? hm?”

you nod quickly, aware that carol is glancing over and shooting you a dirty smirk that you hope john and simon haven’t seen yet. 

“good girl. follow us then.”

and well, who are you to disagree when john places the flat of his hand on your lower back just above the apron strings and simon becomes a long line of warmth at your side as they walk you towards the warehouse.

[lethalchiralium]

Diamondback | [2]

i may have dropped off the face of the earth for this one but only because i had no direction after the first chapter but i FOUND IT. seven months later LMAO

warnings: stalking, harassment

summary: Pine, Arizona. Your ride home with Captain Riley is… interesting to say the least. Your second day back as a Hotshot proves to be difficult, and a grocery run proves itself to be unique as well.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

At this time of year, you were meant to be posted up in a nice lookout tower, watching a season of an old medical drama series on the box TV you had to smack to turn on. Feet laid up on top of the desk, waiting for your fancy one dollar ramen to cool as you read through a new book. Your shoes were meant to be muddy, your arms aching from having to move furniture around to how you liked it - not hitching a ride home from your Hotshot Captain Simon Riley at two thirty in the morning after his bartending shift. You imagined Simon to own a bike, he seemed the type to have a nice bike. What you did not expect was a nice black luxury car - well kept interior, you felt bad setting your dusty shoes on the floorboard.

He didn’t talk much on the ride home, it didn’t matter to you as you were half asleep in the passenger seat of his nice Mercedes. The warm lights passed by, the sky seemed so much brighter for being around 3am - it was because of all the light pollution, you were used to seeing the Milky Way almost every night.

“You don’t seem like that big of a drinker.” Simon commented, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

You opened one eye, seeing the main road’s neon lights as they waved by. Your head lolled to the left, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He chuckled a little, you could clearly see one of his white canines as he spoke again, “You’re not a drinker.”

“How so?”

“Don’t seem the type, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, closing them again before rolling your head back to the right. “You have no idea what type I am, Riley.”

“You’re the type to not fight your problems, you comin’ into a bar like mine means you rolled over and showed your belly like a dog.”

If you had any more energy to argue, you would’ve. Where does he get off on assuming shit that isn’t true? You sat in silence, eyes opening again to watch the lights on the main road fly past.

He chuckled once. “No smart quip?”

I am done with this prick. Your head swung to the left, a frustrated huff left your nose before you began, “You don’t know shit about me. If it bothers you so much, I won’t go to your stupid fucking bar again.” You snapped your head back to the right.

“Now, I didn’t say that…” Another laugh left his lips. “You sure have a lot of fire under that facade.”

“What?”

“The ‘I’ve never been hurt before in my life’ look. You fight just like a wildfire, you won’t bend to another man’s thumb.” The turn signal began to click and Simon smirked. “I thought you would have been a dud, one of those lazy fire watchers with nothin’ better to do.” You opened your mouth to retaliate but he continued. “Turns out I was wrong, John was right.” The car came to a stop, he pushed the gear shift to park before he looked at you. “You’re a spitfire.”

You stared at him for just a moment before you opened your door, climbing out into the stuffy night air. You turned around and looked into his fancy car, eyes narrowing. “Have a good night, Captain Riley.” You closed the door to his nice car and made your way to Alex’s nice apartment complex, poking the pin pad with the code he had given you the day before. The door unlocked and you entered, hearing Simon’s car pull out of the lot - you didn’t look back.

The climb up two flights of stairs really made you feel the burn from yesterday, it made you regret staying out late since you had to wake up in three hours for another shift at the 141. You dug the silver key out of your pocket as you approached the apartment, unlocking it and pushing it open as quietly as humanly possible. You toed off your shoes, your hand gently pushed shut the door while the other was pressed against the wall to keep you steady.

“Y/N!”

You jumped out of your skin, almost losing balance as you whipped around to see him, hair tousled and in his signature ratty t-shirt and gym shorts. “Christ, Alex! A warning would be nice-”

“It’s almost three, you imbecile! We have work in three hours!”

You shrugged, scratching your jaw for just a second before you answered, “I was having a drink at that bar you told me to go to.”

“Who drove you home?”

“The Captain.”

“Riley drove you home?” Alex’s jaw almost hit the floor, your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, he’s in love with you.” He joked, you gave him a confused glare.

You let out a loud laugh of disbelief after just a moment. “All because he drove me home?”

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “Never in my many years of existence has Simon Riley dropped off a coworker. Ever.” He stared you down. “Did you suck him off or something-“

“Alex!”

“I’m just asking-!”

You instantly moved past him, anger bubbling under your skin. “I didn’t do anything but get a ride home, so I’m gonna shower and hopefully not slip and crack my skull from exhaustion.”

Alex chuckled, watching you as you disappeared down the hallway. “I’m just kidding!”

You flipped him off before you slammed the door to the bathroom. “Go to bed!”

•••

“Deploy!”

“30 seconds!”

Ripping open a survival shelter after years of not having a need to even have one in the tower was riveting. You were like a kid on Christmas, just without the boastful excitement and energy for wrapped presents, as every drop of your existence in Arizona was used to retrain for what normal people would essentially call Hell on Earth.

“Move, Soap!”

“Rookies on the inside, feet to the flames!”

“Twenty bucks ah beat ye, Gaz!”

“Bottles and radios in your shelter!”

The green training emergency survival shelter crackled as you whipped it in the air, allowing it to inflate to the size it needed to be to cover your body. Your hands held the top as you put your head in, kneeled, then put your feet through as well before completely pressing the edge of the shelter to the concrete floor of the firehouse. Your body was cocooned by the flimsy green plastic, you pressed your cheek to the ground as you heard Simon’s loud countdown to zero.

“Feet to the flames!”

You had only been with the 141 for about 48 hours and you were already exhausted, right down to the bone. With a long run, weight training for hours on end, then going on an even longer run, packed to the brim with gear. You didn’t have time to reminisce on how a Pulaski axe felt strapped to your fifty pound rucksack, you only had the strength to make sure you didn’t pass out on a lonely trail in the middle of the desert. You definitely hated being thrown into carrying a rucksack, but such is life - throwing fifty pound rucksacks at your face until you move states and completely destroy your very stable life. Ah, cheating dirtbags. Remind me to never go for a J named piece of shit ever again.

“If we have to deploy,” The bottom of your green cocoon rumbled as a hand shook it, the now familiar voice of Price boomed throughout the exercise room. “The fire’s gonna sound like a hundred freight trains goin’ right over you.” The shake of your small tent was only a couple of seconds before you could hear someone else’s being rustled as well. “Proper deployment of your survival tent will save your life.”

“It’s gonna get hot, this will be the only oxygen you have. Keep that seal as flat as you can to the ground, or else the fire will suck out your only breathable air.” Simon’s voice was farther now, you could tell both of them were shaking the tents to simulate the sound of the flames. Your hands moved to the edge of the plastic next to your elbows, you grabbed it and pressed it flat against the concrete - you kept your breathing steady. “People have died from incorrectly deploying these tools. Keep your feet in, keep the seals flat, and you will ensure your survival.”

The sound of boots against concrete was deafening between you and your fellow Hotshots, no room for disobedience or miscalculation. Every movement you would make when you’re fighting a wildfire needed to be calculated and structured, that’s why Hotshots stayed in a line - everyone needed to stay together to ensure everyone stayed alive.

“You will only open your survival tent when you are given instruction to do so by both Captain Riley and I.” A pause. “We will be calling over the radios to identify everyone, going by last name. If you do not hear from either of us, wait five minutes. The worst of it will be over, waiting that five minutes ensures you won’t be injured when you leave the safety of your tent.”

You had only experience with one wildfire before, the Juniper Wildfire. Scraping a boundary in the dirt, digging it out to create a line between the enemy and the cities that were in line to be the fire’s next source of fuel. Destroying low lying brush and vegetation, tossing it far away from the line - you remembered how intense the heat was getting as the Juniper fire approached your team’s position, the way your old Supe called out for everyone to back away and get back to safety with a gruff and resounding yell. We can always replace equipment, but we can never replace you. That was drilled into your head at every turn.

The footsteps stopped. “Alright, come on out.”

Sweat beaded at your hairline, you whipped the green practice tent over your head as you swiveled yourself to sit straight up. You glanced to the right, Alex was beside you and he gave you a curious look. You looked away, seeing that Price and Riley were standing at the head of the mass of Hotshots, Riley holding a clipboard and a stopwatch.

A voice came from your left, calm and quiet, yet precise - “You are doing well, Sirena.” You looked to the source, a beautiful woman with pin straight black hair tied back into a short ponytail. You gave a smile, she winked before nodding towards the Supes. You followed, making direct eye contact with Simon. He looked away first, scanning the rest of the firehouse.

“Here’s the thing,” Price started, his arms crossed across his chest. He tapped his fingers against his bicep, his eyes watched the room like a ravenous hawk. “We’ve got another month of mandatory 40 hour weeks, then it’s heads or tails if we’re bumped up to year-round.”

A chorus of mumbles hummed through the large engine bay, you pulled off the rest of the green plastic so it rested beside you, as did almost everyone else. The breeze from the open bay door,

“The way all of you have been working hard, no matter if you’ve been here for five years or five minutes,” John glanced at you before glancing to another hotshot across the room, you remembered his name being Soap. “We will most likely get our foot in the door.” He looked over his crew again before clapping together his hands. “We’ll see you all on Monday.”

You physically slumped down as the room began to hum with chatter, you looked to your left to talk with the woman who spoke to you earlier but she was gone - already across the room. You weren’t given much time to think on it when Alex walked up, holding his hand out.

“You look like shit.”

You glared at his dumb face, he smirked. “You look like a man with no bitches.”

“Who pissed in your corn flakes?”

“No one, we don’t have any fucking corn flakes since you ate them all.” You grabbed his hand, he easily helped you to your feet.

“You’re goin’ to the store.” Alex patted your arm, dropping his truck keys in the hand he grabbed of yours. “I’m helpin’ Riley out with fixing the damn garage door.”

“You’re a-“

“L/N, surprised you’re even standing.” Gaz chuckled as he approached, you gave him a confused look. “You’ve been workin’ nonstop the past two days. Haven’t seen a fire watch go from sitting around to hotshot work that quickly before.”

You shrugged, hand instantly coming up to knead the side of your neck. “Considering I was a hotshot before, I’d hope I was bouncing back well.”

Gaz smiled at you, patting your shoulder. “You’re doing damn well. Go get some rest before Alex drives you nuts.”

“Trust me, he always is.” You smiled back, ignoring Alex’s kick to your calf. Gaz nodded before he turned away, your hand squeezed the car keys in your hands. Time to go grocery shopping and hopefully drop dead in Aisle 7.

Your body felt like magma, moving sluggishly under intense weight and pressure - and you were just pushing your cart at the grocery store. A pack of underwear, a carton of eggs, a case of flavored electrolyte water sat in your small cart; you plucked a bag of your favorite chips and settled them on top of the five pack of underwear that was ridiculously priced. It’s not like you can go back and get any of your stuff at a time like this; work was much more important than material things that could be replaced. That and it’s a delicate game with Justin, he would definitely draw up some bogus restraining order. A part of you cringed, knowing he was probably doing just that as you walked around this small supermarket. Your phone sat in your hand, screen black from no use before it pinged.

Alex

pick up some cheese plz

Alex

nd mustard

You

Chips too?

Alex

no

You

What else

Alex

buns

You

And hot dogs?

Alex

no more hot dogs

soap bought me 300 hot dogs 2 wk ago

too many hot dog

eating all hot fog 2nite

*dog

🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

“Keepin’ your nose in your phone is how you crash into a shelf, Firewatch.”

You jolted from your conversation with Alex, head darted up to meet the gaze of your Superintendent. He was in the dirty t-shirt he had worn all day, arms crossed on his chest. You looked around the aisle, you had moved yourself to the side to not be in the way a long while ago. A gentle smirk invaded your lips.

“I’m shopping, not working.”

Price smiled, teeth pearly white. “You were nudging yourself down the aisle, you’re going to hit the display.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to the giant cardboard hot dog bun display at the end of the aisle. You shrugged.

“I need to go there.”

“And take down the display when you do it?”

You gave him a deadpan look, he laughed a little.

“How’re you settling in with Alex?”

You rolled your eyes, your own tired laugh left your lips. “The only thing he has to eat in his fridge are hot dogs, apparently.” You took a look at the red container of Folgers Coffee Grounds in his hands before asking, “Aren’t Brits supposed to be all about tea?”

Price glanced down at the container before he answered, “Simon is. I prefer coffee.”

Your phone buzzed in your hand but you ignored it, shrugging as you remarked, “Not very British of you, Supe.”

“John.”

There was a glimmer of warmth in his blue eyes, your diaphragm fluttered for just a moment before you murmured, “What?”

He grinned then, a mischievous glint in his eye that disappeared after just a millisecond. “It’s John. Outside of work.”

You nodded curtly as you looked down the aisle again, you looked back to John. “Didn’t expect you to be one for informalities outside of work.”

He shrugged briefly. “It’s whatever you would like to call me.”

“John is fine.”

“I expected you to have more than just eggs to eat.”

“I’d make you dinner if I didn’t just move down into my best friend’s bare minimum apartment.” You cringed a little before correcting yourself, “As a thank you. For-”

John laughed a little, putting his hand up and chuckling, “It’s all right, I get what you mean. I might take you up on the offer.”

You opened your mouth to speak but you were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You gave John an apologetic look before looking at kt, reading the name of your ex on the screen. You looked back to him, “I’m sorry, John, I’ve- I’ve got to answer this.”

He nodded. “No problem. I’ll see you on Monday.” He waved a little before walking away.

“Bye.” You said quietly, hoping he heard before you answered the call. You put the phone to your ear, ready to hear pleading and crying. “What do you want?“

“Where the fuck did you go?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, that was a completely different answer than you expected. He watched you leave. You didn’t even take your car. Why would he care? “None of your business.”

“It is my business when my fiancé has been gone for two whole days with her location off.”

Are you fucking serious? “We’re over.”

“No, we’re not. You’re being a child.”

“Me? I’m-“ You take a quick breath, hands starting to shake with anger. “What is the purpose of your call?”

“I need to know where you are.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, you’re not at your mom’s.”

Your eyes widened, hands gripping the shopping cart tightly. “You went-“

“She doesn’t even know where you are. I’ll start going through your friends.”

Genuine fear ran through you then, your expression dropped but not as hard as your stomach. You were sure Justin wasn’t violent before, but now? You didn’t know the man on the other line, he sounded like a stranger. A furious and vengeful stranger.

You wiped your nose, wiggling it to try and stop yourself from crying out of fear. “I don’t want to see you.”

“But I need to see you.”

“No, you don’t.” You felt bile rise in your throat, a heavy presence in the front of your head - a migraine. You were annoyed, but damn, were you scared. There’s something to be said about feeling like the person you love won’t hurt you, yet here he is - making threats. “I don’t want you here.”

There’s a pause, you hear a thud on the other side of the line and glass breaking. “Tell me where you are.”

“No.”

Another thud, thud, thud, then the angry shout of your name right before you end the call. Your phone stayed pressed against your ear for just a moment before you let it gently fall, slipping it into your pocket. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, embarrassed that you were crying in public. You were quick to push your cart away, hoping all would be okay. Hoping Justin didn’t know where Alex lived. Praying would be a better descriptor, but pleading with God was what you were truly doing. The only thing you missed as you walked away was a concerned John Price in the aisle over, hands gripping the coffee tin like a vice.

taglist:

@all-good-things-have-an-ending @warners-wife @random0lover @blingblong55 @local-spidey @sanfransolomitatm @frazie99 @khadeejarh @domaniquessidehoe2 @iaur @graciereads @urfavoritepookie @ghostwifeyy @live-love-be-unique

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[zarsghost]

Heyo, does anyone have any good John price x reader x Simon Riley fic recs??

[skyrigel]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*

[devil-in-hiding]

something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes it’s worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)

you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, there’s still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger they’re scurrying off to find their next target.

Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.

They’re all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks can’t make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since they’ve been away.

Perfect gentlemen.

Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.

You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.

“Was wondering if I’d see you boys tonight.” You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.

When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.

“Trouble at home pretty?” Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you can’t help the little giggle that spills out.

“Oh! My ring… It’s kind of a funny story. I uhm.. I’m not actually married.” You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.

“Come again?” Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.

“I started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.” You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghost’s grasp and he’s eyeing you in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hm. Interesting.”

[bunnibombz]

The thought I was having...

"She can take it, don't let her whining fool you Ghost" John said, taking a drag off his freshly lit cigar as he sits back in his chair.

"Can't be runnin' away from me now," Simon gruffed, gripping your hips to hold you in place as he sank in deeper.

What had started out as a little joke between you and John after a drunken comment you made one night about wanting Simon to "stretch you out" had quickly evolved into John bringing his soldier into your bedroom on one condition. He got to watch.

Your fingers pulled at the sheets as Simon bottomed out, a rough groan dragged from his chest as you squeezed around him.

Fucking his thick, throbbing cock into your tight pussy had been no easy task despite how wet you were, and now that you were pulsing all snug around him and crying his name as you clawed the bed he didn't think he could ever pull out.

"That's it lovie, take a deep breath" He praised, pressing a warm hand against your spine to sink your chest lower to the bed as you moaned at the absolutely sinful angle he had you held in, "such a pretty bird Price, wanna keep her for myself".

"No can do Ghost," John replied with a chuckle as he adjusted himself through his pants. The sounds of your pleasure bringing a hot flush to his face, "she's got a ring on her finger for a reason".

[7s3ven]

tatted! simon motorcycle shenanigans

TATTED UP! Simon Riley who lets you turn him into a colouring book. He doesn’t care how you colour his tattoos, he just wants to see the scrunched up look of concentration on your cute face.

“What colour do you want?” You murmur as you glance at your numerous eyeshadow palettes. Simon wants to say black or grey but he sees the way you eye the pink palette for a moment too long.

“… Pink.” He finally answers, his gaze focused solely on your bright smile.

You find joy in colouring his arm with various shades of pink and purple as he watches. “Look, so cute.” You murmur, eliciting a low laugh from Simon.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbles, “You wanna colour the rest in?”

BONUS

“Aye, LT, you got your tattoo redone or what?” Jonny can barely hold back his laughter as he looks at Simon’s arm. The previously edgy tattoos were now adorned with feminine colours and glitter.

“No. Just making the misses happy.” Simon doesn’t really care for his teammates’ reactions because the memory of your smile is enough to block out Jonny’s cackles.

[soleilapproves]

Older boyfriend Price who is absolutely DISTRAUGHT over the fact that you don’t care about marriage because you think he’s over it.

Note: this one has no smut but it has mentions of sex and sexual relations so interact at your own discretion.

Masterlist

“What the fuck do you mean by you don’t want to?” If Price had been any louder, anyone outside his car would’ve been able to hear him.

It had been a few months into your relationship with Price after almost a year of being friends with benefits. You weren’t sure how your arrangement changed over time but you were glad to be with him as he valued you a lot.

“I mean, think about it. You’re like, what? 40-“

“I’m 37, love”

“Right, yeah, I just think that it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re having fun together. Honestly, I thought you’d agree,” you said before taking a bite out of your burger.

Price could only watch you in shock. Sure, your relationship started on the basis of sexual benefits but when he did think of the future all he thought of was you. Even if you were a generation younger than him, he had never felt such synergy with anyone before. It was a connection of a lifetime - emotional and sexual.

“So you don’t give a shit about marriage because you think I don’t care about it.”

“Kind of. If I’m gonna get married I need my partner to be on board too, don’t you think?” He sighed at your reply. You looked up at him, confused and cheeks full with your dinner as you grabbed the plastic cup of coke.

His heart swelled at the sight. It was like looking at an innocent chipmunk. To think that the same face looked fucked out an hour ago awed him but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by your unintentional seduction.

He grabbed your drink and put it back in the cupholder. You were about to whine but he grabbed your face and pulled you close, noses almost touching.

“You—“ peck “—are the most wonderful thing to happen to me and I’ll be damned if I don’t tie you down with me in the future.”

Your face heated up. You had swallowed your food not too long ago but your mouth felt like it had gone dry.

With your face in his hands he continued. “I’ll have a rock on your pretty little finger before you know it.” He left a longer peck on your lips this time and pulled away.

What you didn’t know was that he already had a ring for you. It was stored away in a hidden drawer in his desk, waiting to be worn by you.

In fact, he had brought it just a month into your relationship. He wasn’t religious but he knew that a person like you was the blessing of a lifetime.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw. price who takes pride in how well he takes care of his missus. it’s your world and he’s just living in it baby!

there’s not a day that goes by where you aren’t fucked and fed properly. will go to great lengths to make your life as easy as possible, which includes being selfless. which is why when he goes on long work trips he’ll ask one of the boys to take good care of you until he gets back. preferably simon; johnny is much too eager, and gaz is too much of a sweetheart to rough you up just how you like. he can’t bare the thought of having his girl waking up to an empty bed. which why he’ll leave simon with the keys to your home and a heavy pat on the back.

“I’ll be back in a few days. keep her entertained for me, will ya? if she starts getting fussy just means she’s due for a proper fucking. she’s a restless little thing. take good care of her now, yeah? I’ll be expecting updates.”

[luminni]

Simon has a favorite jumper. It's simple, black wool, fits him well, and he wears it all the time. Only problem is, he wears the thing all the time. He's had the thing for years and it's practically all he wears when he's on leave. By this point, the poor thing is threadbare, little holes around the armpits, the neckline, and the cuffs. It's pilling everywhere and it's covered with dog hair (from where, he has no clue).

You loved the jumper on him, he looked fantastic in it, but even you could see the thing was in a dire situation.

"Simon?" You questioned, holding up the jumper in your arms, folding it after its last round in the wash (which it mercifully survived).

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever...thought about getting this thing dry cleaners?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't trust 'em, they'll ruin it."

It was a simple answer, one that told you the subject wasn't up for debate. But just because he didn't trust the dry cleaners with his jumper didn't mean he wouldn't trust anyone with it. And there was no one he trusted more than you.

...

Simon came home from his last deployment late into the night, trudging through the front door and setting his bag down as gently as possible as to not wake you. Toeing his shoes off and finally being able to tug off his mask, he couldn't wait to get out of the rest of his gear.

Stepping lightly through the house, dodging the floor boards he knew were going to be squeaky on his journey to the bedroom. Ready to join you in bed the moment he got into a pair of sweat pants.

When he opened the bedroom door however, he did not find you tucked away in the covers. You were crouched on the floor, humming along to quiet music playing on a small speaker. And you were bowed over that black jumper of his.

"Love?"

"Oh! Simon you're home!" You squealed, jumping up and throwing yourself into his arms, snuggling your face into his chest and drinking in the scent you had been without for so long like you could get drunk off it, and in many ways you could.

"Hey there sweet'art" he cooed, practically purring it into your ear and enclosing you in a big bear hug. "What'er ya' up to?"

"Oh just..." you turned back around, anxiety lacing your voice, "doing a little repair work." You handed him his black jumper, folding it into his hands.

He could believe his eyes, it was smooth like it was new, no pills of fabric clinging to it. The tiny, threadbare areas and holes were patched up. Now, perfectly matched black wool was weaved in to fix it. He stared at you, wide eyed, in disbelief while you just grinned nervously. He brought it up to his face, no dog hair to be seen and it smelt like you had just picked it up off the shelves.

He kept on staring at you "how..?"

"I just," you turned back around, grabbing the sweater trimmer, the replacement wool, the sweater scent spray, and the lint roller, all in your hands. "Used a couple things" You grinned

Simon could have sworn he never felt this way before. There was this weird tightness in his chest, it felt like it was going to explode. He had owned that sweater when he Tommy was still alive, that sweater had seen the first pub crawl with the 141 boys, he wore it on your first date. The sweater was more than just something he wore often, it was his good memories wrapped up into one piece of soft and comfortable wool. His arms moved before he could stop them and he buried you in another hug, squeezing you (and his jumper) into him.

"Oh- Simon!" You giggled, dropping your supplies.

He buried his nose into you shoulder, lifting you up into him, off your feet.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice cracking a bit, "thank you."

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[starsinmylatte]

Missionary with your fav military man, but his dog tags keep tapping you in the face, causing you to giggle. He scoffs and nips at you playfully before taking the chain in his teeth and thrusting even harder, fucking you up the bed in punishment