#rest in peace john hurt

[sithvampiremaster27]

2022: The Final Act

[blindmagdalena]

Night Terrors

1.6k homelander x reader. established relationship. pure comfort fic. remaster of this old prompt. very mild spoilers for s4 if you squint. mostly just wanted to self-soothe with some comfort/cuddle fic. gif credit.

It's been decades since Homelander last stepped foot in The Bad Room, but when he wakes from a nightmare of it in your shared bed, it's as if he never left.

Most of the nights you spend with Homelander are peaceful. 

Tonight is not most nights.

The scream that wakes you from a dead sleep is guttural, barely human. Homelander is sitting upright, frenzied and wild-eyed, the ocean blue of them obscured by crimson glow. You're not even sure that he sees you through it when he looks at you. He's panting like he just ran a marathon, and the comforter is ripped cleanly in half, the two sides strewn on either side of him. "John," you call softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from your hand like you've burned him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hisses, wrapping his arms around himself. Sometimes he is small during these fits, curled in on himself, begging you to make it stop. Not tonight. Tonight he is another self, spitting rage and violence through remembered agony. A cornered animal. "I'll fucking kill you!" "John," you say again, pleading. You know he isn't talking to you. He's speaking to the ghosts of his past. "You're in our bed. You're with me. I would never hurt you. I love you, John." His name is a double-edged sword. It cuts clean through to something at the core of him in a way that “Homelander” doesn’t. Each use of it acts like a shock to his irregulated system.

You keep your hands outstretched, but you don't touch him. You show him that you aren't holding anything. Not a pen, not a notepad, not a needle. You show that you don't mean him any harm. 

God knows he's suffered enough. With the sound of your voice, the red glow of his eyes gradually dims, flickers, and then finally it goes out entirely. He's still panting, hands moving slowly down his arms, his torso, checking himself for injury. Though his body bears no scars of the pain he’s endured, his mind knows exactly where each one of them would be. Bit by bit, you watch him come back to himself. He looks around the room, taking in the evidence of your truth. Framed photos, décor, the life you’ve built together. It isn't a concrete dungeon. It isn’t a lab. It isn’t an incinerator. It's home. "Fuck," he says quietly, hiccupping the word into his palm. He says it again, louder, screwing his glassy eyes shut. The third time he says it, it's nearly a sob. It’s agony to wait, but you don’t touch him before he’s ready. You fist the bedsheets, you don’t stop talking. I’m here. I’m right here. I love you. You’re safe. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds before he reaches for you. All you know is you act immediately. You move swiftly up on your knees, climbing over the ruined blankets to take him into your arms, pulling his head to rest against your chest, bringing his ear close to the beat of your heart. You hush him while you work to unstick the words from your throat, unable to help the tears that well in your eyes.

The fear and misery in him is so palpable, you nearly feel as if it’s your own. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap as he weeps against you. It's taken a long time to reach this point. He used to swallow it back like bile, adamant for the longest time that you not see this side of him, this aspect of himself that he thinks ugly, imperfect, broken. You fought for this. As you hold him through these bone-deep sobs, it shatters you that it's taken him this long for him to find someone who would. "You're safe," you whisper, battling to keep the tears from your voice. "You're home. You're with me. You're safe. I love you so, so much." He rocks back and forth, choking on his sobs. “I could feel it,” he tells you, the words barely escaping the clench of his teeth. “It hurt. Every second of it, and they just–they all just watched.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the softness of his hair. You kiss the crown of his head again and again, combing your fingers through his hair where it’s damp with sweat and your own tears. “You’re safe now,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. It isn’t enough, but these words and touches are all you have to offer him against the torment of his childhood.

His grip on you tightens. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap you in half.

That scare you? He’d asked you once. How easily I could break you?”

No, you admitted. It makes me appreciate how hard you try not to. It takes time for his breathing to even out. His hold softens, but he doesn't relinquish you. For as terrible as the nightmares are, it's the shame he experiences in the aftermath that often requires the most care. 

You rub firm circles on his back with one hand while cradling the back of his head with the other, trailing butterfly kisses along his temple, his forehead, down to his cheek. Any part of him you can reach, you kiss, murmuring quiet assurances in between, as if to imbue him with each word. Eventually, the rocking stops. He's breathing more steadily now, arms encircled firmly around your waist. He gives a shaking sigh. "Sorry," he whispers, voice strained. That's a word in his vocabulary that rarely comes up, but when it does, it is always drenched in shame. He hates himself for this. "Don't," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair. You sniff back your tears, letting out a breath. "I asked for this. I begged you for this," you emphasize, earnest. You cup his face, angling him to look up at you. "Let me do this for you. Please. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He stares at you with large, watery blue eyes. The whites are red, strained by the force of his grief, his durability tested only by his own power. In his gaze you see damage done to him that may never heal, but your words settle over invisible scars like a soothing balm. It’s that very look of vulnerability that has driven you to this depth of love. You know his violence, his viciousness, but so too do you know the fragile man it protects.

Most of all, the scared boy beneath it all.

His grip on you flexes, his jaw clenched. The nature of your insight into him is both a blessing and a curse to him. He cannot hide from you. You know his shame, and despite how deeply he needs your compassion, your understanding, it’s something he has to bleed for every time. He’s perpetually torn between his desperation to be your perfect hero, and his soul-deep yearning to be safely vulnerable. 

If you have to, you'll spend the rest of your life convincing him that he can have both.

Finally, his shoulders sag. "I love you," he says, quietly defeated by your warmth. "I'll never hurt you. Ever." You recognize the plea in his words. He's terrified that someday it will be too much. You’ll see what everyone else sees, and your love will be tainted–destroyed–by your inevitable fear of him. You hope one day that he’ll understand why that will never happen. Someday the depths of your love will soak in as deep as the misery of his past, and he’ll be able to forgive himself for the human way his god’s heart bleeds. "I know. I know that.” You kiss the top of his head, still rubbing his back, taking your hand away only to swipe the tears from your face. “I love you, too. Every part of you."

Even the parts you hate. Gingerly, he lifts you just enough to lay you back down on the bed. He wastes no time cuddling back in against you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. The bedding is ruined, but he runs warm enough that you hardly notice the absence of cover while he’s holding you. Your legs tangle with his, bodies slotting together easily. He nuzzles as if he can worm his way closer than skin to skin. If you could, you’d open your ribcage to welcome him inside. He could eat your heart if it kept his beating another day.

"Will you... talk me to sleep?" He asks, threads of shame lingering in the request. The tension has drained away, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted. His blinks are slow, the curve of his lips mournful. "Of course," you whisper, smoothing your hand up and down his back. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked him back to sleep, and you doubt it’ll be the last. Sometimes you tell him the plot of a book as best you can recall, other times it's random anecdotes from your life. Sometimes it's complete nonsense. To him, it doesn't matter what you say. All that matters is that when he does finally drift back into sleep, it's your voice that safeguards him there. 

Gladly, he rests his head back down on your chest, closing his eyes with a rumbling sigh while your nails drag along his scalp. You cradle him there, savoring the warmth of him as it seeps into the marrow of your bones, the weight of him grounding you.

You tell him stories until sleep finds him. Even then, you continue to speak until your voice frays and you can no longer keep your eyes open. You speak and speak and speak hoping that somehow, in some small way, you can help make up for the years he spent with only his own voice for comfort.

[aphelionwrotes11]

(MDNI, dubcon) (not edited)

Thinking about stalker!john price who retired early and can’t stand spending his time in his big ol’ house all by himself :(

Wanders across a pretty little dear like you, working retail in one of the little stores in the small town you live in. Can’t help falling in love with those tentative eyes that look up at him through your lashes, all shy and soft.

He just can’t control the way he feels like he has to keep you safe, your his now, doll. Follows you home every night, just to make sure you’re safe. Puts a few cameras around your house, only to make sure no unwanted visitors are hanging around, of course!

But he can’t help himself when he finds himself in your room when you’re sleeping, gazing at your relaxed figure. Oh, so peaceful and gorgeous.

You start getting a bit paranoid when you begin noticing a few things out of place. A door closed that you could’ve swore you left open when you left, a few missing shirts, a few missing panties, and now you come home to an apartment just a bit cleaner than you left it. Your bed made a little neater, no dirty laundry hung from a chair or lying on the edge of your bed.

At first you think you’re losing it. This shitty job must be taking too much out of you. But, on a night when an especially shitty shift happens, everything comes crashing down. Some rando decided to take out their frustration on you which then led to you bursting into tears and running off to the back room, frustrated and humiliated. A few minutes later your manager comes to tell you that you can go home, that bloke was dragged off by some guy into the night, she’s certain he won’t be a bother again.

So, you make your way down your usual path. Sniffling every now and then, pausing only to wipe your puffy eyes. When you get to your front door, you find that it’s already unlocked. Blinding hot fear lodges itself into your throat. Did that guy follow you home? (No lol)

You push the door open to be hit with the smell of your favorite take out. You take a few cautious steps in, scanning the kitchen and living room. It’s empty, but spotless. Dishes are put away, the counters looked like they’ve been scrubbed clean, the floors are swept. On the table rests a bag from your favorite restaurant, a note lies beside it reading, eat up little dear :)

John watches you from the crack in the door of your small hallway closet. Watches you walk through your house, kitchen knife in hand, looking for any potential threats. You look everywhere, besides the closet in the hallway. Oh honey, what would you do without him? What if there had been a real intruder and you had just missed him? Gosh. But, John’s upset is quickly replaced with joy as you settle into a seat and eat your still hot dinner. He can’t help but shiver as a relaxed look comes across your face, more relaxed than you’ve looked in ages. That must mean that you accept him now right?

Well, he takes it that way. Starts getting more bold. Leaves gifts on your counter for you to come home to, your favorite foods, books you like, items from stores you looked at just a bit too long. Keeps your apartment tidy, clothes washed, dishes laid to dry. At first, fear grabs you by the heart each time you come home from work to find another gift and a clean apartment. But after a week or so you decide that whoever it is that’s been watching you has been more of a help than a nuisance, and if they wanted to hurt you they would’ve by now, right? So you stupidly allow yourself to relax into this routine. Had to decide not to call the cops when you came home to find a few pairs of lacy panties laid out on your bed, matching bralettes resting beside them. In your size of course.

So, on one of your worst nights of the year, a shitty shift, shitty day, shitty week. You find yourself sobbing into a pillow in the darkness of your room. Sleep just couldn’t find you. You gasp when you feel the other side of the bed sink. Lying there, frozen. You feel a big, warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. John sucks in a breath just at the feel of you. You start to cry more, “no- no please-“ you sob, terrified.

And John just coos at you.

“Shh, shh, don’t worry honey. M’not gonna do anythin. Just wanna hold’ya, make you feel better.”

He lays down behind you, warm arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest. And despite better logic, you allow him too. Find yourself relaxing in his warm grip, melting from his low coos. This is bad, very bad. Extremely dangerous. But at this point you just don’t care.

John holds you like that for a while, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pressing his nose into your hair.

“What’s got you all worked up, honey? Hard day? Could make you feel a lot better. Could make that all go away.”

He whispers into the soft skin of your neck, and you whimper. Starts squeezing the fat of your hips, placing little kisses along the length of your throat. Your hands find his hair and tug, he takes that as a sign to keep going.

S’not long before he’s spearing you with his hot, heavy cock. Thrusting into you at a languid pace from behind. His calloused fingers rub your clit. Your whining and moaning, melting from his touch.

“Would do anything for ya honey, promise’ya I would, so perfect..” he groans into your ear, a hand coming up to roll your nipple between his fingers.

He’s moving so perfectly, his thrusts hitting a spot inside of you that sends ripples of pleasure up your spine. When you finally come, shuddering and clenching on his cock, he whimpers.

He doesn’t stop there, flips you onto your back and starts thrusting into you like a battering ram, no more soft love making. That’s when you see his face, that ruggedly handsome regular that you’ve had the biggest crush on, who just so happened to also be your stalker.

Your too fucked out too care, and he’s too pussy drunk to think. Fucking himself into you like an animal.

“Been waiting to touch you like this sweetheart, waitin so long- fuuuck-“ he sounds drunk, his voice thick. His eyes are glassy as he stares down at you.

“Need ya, I love ya..” he mumbles deliriously, getting closer to filling your tight cunt by the second.

“Cum in me..” you whisper. And that’s what throws him over the edge.

He cums, hard. Thrusting his seed into you, milking his cock with your clenching cunt. He’s crying, a few tears dripping down his cheeks. :((

“Love you, love you, love you, love you-“ he repeats like a mantra, fucking himself into you still despite the overstimulation. Looks utterly wrecked.

Takes a few weeks, but eventually he manages to coax his little sweetheart into living with him. It’s a lot easier, isn’t it? I mean he’s always with you regardless, been following you around for a while. Now he gets to see you constantly. Has you quit that shitty job, promises to take care of you. Deposits money into your bank account each week to ease your nervousness, just so you don’t feel too trapped, not that he’d ever let you go.

Follows you around like a lost puppy, always an arms length away. Eventually you mind less and less.

Months pass by in a blur and it’s not long till your stomach is fat and swollen with a little baby, and he’s on one knee in front of you with a ring. Doesn’t matter what you say though :( you’re his girl, forever.

(Gaaahhhhh I love him so much. NEEEEEED HIM.)

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;

word count: 7.6k

You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.

Ward was officially in police custody.

They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.

He was stopped.

The man who caused so much pain to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.

But your relief came with a bit of caution.

This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted on the island if not the entire country, and the justice system wasn’t always as just as you hoped.

Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.

JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadn’t seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with “let’s fucking go, baby!” as he made his way upstairs.

You were content.

Was there really anything to be happy about?

Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.

Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil.

You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.

Rafe.

You hadn’t seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didn’t see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if he’d been cooped up in that awful house all this time.

You couldn’t shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dad’s mess. Did he feel abandoned by you?

The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you should’ve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Ward’s arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.

You almost gave in.

One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate. You'd forgotten how huge it was, and with the light fading, it just looked like this dark outline in the distance You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.

You couldn’t do it. 

Whatever was between you both just felt… impossible to cross.

The sound of the waves crashing—it’s always been your escape.

You've spent so much time in the water, it felt like second nature to you. Growing up, swimming and surfing were your ways to get away from your dad’s violence and your mom being, well, absent. The ocean became your sanctuary, where you could forget about the yelling, broken furniture, and bottles littering your house. Floating out there, everything bad just… melted away.

But as soon as you stepped back on the sand and headed home, all that peace would disappear. Both your parents were long gone now, but that dread? It never left. It was like the house still held onto those old memories—the shouting, the fights. Even though it was quiet now, the walls were stained with the past. The creaky floorboards, the dim light, chipped paint—You hated it all.

You've thought about leaving so many times, but something always held you back. JJ, mostly. And, well, money.

Tonight, as you got closer, something felt off. JJ’s truck wasn’t in its usual spot, which wasn’t unheard of, but it felt wrong. The windows were shut too, which You never did—You always keep them open to let in the ocean breeze.

You called out for JJ, expecting his usual shout back, but there was just��� silence. You brushed it off. Maybe he was out on the boat or glued to his video games.

You dropped your bag by the door and walked inside, calling his name again. That’s when you saw him.

Luke.

He looked even worse than before—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, reeking of alcohol. He’d been gone for a year. No calls, no messages. JJ and you paid him off, made sure he left the island, but here he was, standing in your living room like he belonged.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You managed, trying to sound stronger than you felt.

He laughed, this dark, hollow sound that made your skin crawl. “Just came to see my kids. That so wrong?”

Liar. You knew what he really wanted. “You need to leave. Now.”

His face twisted, the smirk gone. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Watch me. Get out.”

He took a step back, hands up like he was surrendering. “I just need a little loan.”

You gripped the doorframe tighter. “No. You need to go. For good.”

He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just need a little loan.”

You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, “No. You need to go, for good.”

For a second, you thought he’d listen, but then he took a step forward, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m not leaving without what I came for.”

“I don’t care,” You snapped, “Get your ass out of my house before I call the cops.”

“This is my house!” He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.

“Not anymore,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, “I’m not afraid of you,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.

He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. “You always were a stubborn little brat.”

“And you’re a piece of shit.”

He lunged.

You barely dodged him, stumbling back into the living room. “Stay away from me!” You shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend myself.

Luke laughed again, that same twisted, hollow sound, and came at you. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You raised your other arm to block him, instincts kicking in.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend yourself.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, shoving you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you stayed focused.

You couldn’t let him win. Not again.

“You’re gonna give me what I want,” he hissed, his breath hot and disgusting.

“No, I’m not,” you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.

With your free hand, you the grabbed the nearest thing—Mom’s old lamp—and swung it at him. The base cracked against his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.

“Bitch!” he roared, blood running down his face. It only made him angrier. He rushed you, knocking the lamp out of your hand, pinning you to the floor.

You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, doing anything to try to throw him off. “Get off me!” you screamed, clawing at his face.

His hand came down hard across your cheek, blurring your vision. “You really think you can fight me?”

He wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing. Gasping for air, you remembred that you’d been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick.

With the last of your strength, you swung it with everything you had, hitting him square in the head.

His grip loosened, and you scrambled to your feet, panting as he slumped to the side, groaning in pain.He groaned, trying to get up, but you hit him again. Harder this time. He collapsed, blood pooling around him. You stood over him, breathing heavy, barely processing what you'd just done.

But then, he stirred. He reached for your ankle.

You stumbled back, “Stay down goddamit!” you shouted, raising the candlestick again.

Luke pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he spat, lunging at you again.

This time, you were ready.

As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, driving your knee into his stomach. He grunted, doubling over, and you brought your elbow down on his nose. It cracked. He roared, grabbing blindly at you.

You ducked and shoved a chair between you both, but he kicked it aside. It bought you just enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing yousaw—a cast-iron skillet.

He staggered into the kitchen after you, blood and sweat on his face.

“You just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.”

“Stay back,” you warned, gripping the skillet like your life depended on it. “I’ll fucking do it.”

Luke laughed, this sick, deranged sound that made your stomach churn. Then he lunged. Without thinking, you swung the skillet as hard as you could, the impact vibrating through your whole arm as it connected with his shoulder. He staggered, but you didn’t stop. You swung again, this time aiming for his head. The sound of the skillet hitting his temple echoed through the room. He collapsed, finally still.

Oh fuck.

For a moment, the house was deathly silent.

You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.

Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously. You almost killed him. There was blood everywhere—on the carpet, on the candlestick, on your hands.

You stumbled back, your mind spinning out of control. What if he dies? What if you actually killed him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone. Out of your life. Forever.

Your hands were trembling as you fumbled for your phone. You couldn’t think straight, your heart racing as you scrolled through your contacts. The names blurred through your tears. You needed help, but you couldn’t call JJ—he wasn’t here. And you couldn’t call the cops. Not yet. You weren’t ready for all of this.

Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadn’t called ever before. Your hands moved on autopilot, and the phone was already ringing. You kept your eyes on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity.The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

“Maybank?”

“Rafe?” Your voice broke, the word barely making it out before a sob tore through your chest.

There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, “Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

But you couldn't speak. Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much. The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.

You couldn’t think.

“Hey! Are you there? Talk to me!” Rafe's voice grew more urgent.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. You could barely breathe.

“Where are you?!”

You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.

In. Out. In. Out. It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never disappeared.

“I think... I think I killed my dad.”

You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there. The words felt foreign on your tongue, like someone else was speaking for you.

“Are you home? Are you safe?”

“I’m home,” you whispered, “JJ’s not here. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m coming,” Rafe said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there soon.”

“Rafe—” You began, but he cut you off.

“I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?”

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear. This wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt people. You just wanted peace. Why did it always end like this? What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died?

Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.

“Maybank?”

He called out for you as he stepped inside.

Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your father’s motionless figure.

“What happened?” He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch. 

“He just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He got violent, and I... “

“It’s okay.”

His warmth helped. But guilt? It stayed. The blood on your hands—it all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

“Have you called 911?”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.

“Do you want me to?”

The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.

"I need an ambulance.”

He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying. 

"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "It’s gonna be okay."

You nodded, but you weren’t sure you believed it.

"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."

"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe’s hands griped yours, despite the blood coating it, "I know.”

The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, protecting you from the brunt of their interrogations. After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. He followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.

He kneeled in front of you, “You can’t say here, okay? They called JJ, he’s on the mainland, but he’ll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.”

You nodded, feeling drained.

"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."

He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.

Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafe’s place.

Tanneyhill.

It felt odd, being there, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your waist.

"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."

You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in his home after everything that had happened.

He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.

"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.

You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely.

"You need to rest," he said. "I’ll be right here."

"But I—"

"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, "We can talk more in the morning.”

There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didn’t need his help. You’d done this for years, alone. And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didn’t fight him. 

You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You can’t go to bed like this."

At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he guided to the bathroom.

"Here," he turned on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."

You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. The sound of the water running felt comforting, like a tiny slice of normalcy in the middle of this mess. Your hands shook a little as you peeled off your clothes, your shorts sticking to your skin. The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt almost broke you all over again. This couldn't be real.

You just stood there for a while, letting the heat work its way into your muscles. Eyes closed, you tried to block out the image of your dad lying there on the floor. Slowly, you started scrubbing your skin, trying to wash away every trace of what had just happened. The soap smelled like lavender, and for a split second, you smiled—this was Rafe’s scent. You recognized it from earlier when he hugged you. Somehow, that tiny detail grounded you, pulling you back to the present.

By the time you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, you felt slightly more like yourself.

Outside the door, Rafe had left you some clothes: his sweatpants, a t-shirt, and boxers—like he said he would. They were a little too big, but warm and soft, like a hug. And, well, they were Rafe’s. That felt oddly comforting.

You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.

"Feeling better?" 

"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."

He nodded, then motioned for you to follow. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

He led you to a guest room, the bed already made with fresh sheets. It looked so inviting, you almost forgot everything that happened tonight. Almost.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a second and came back with a first-aid kit. Kneeling in front of you, he gently took your hands in his. “Lemme see.”

Your hands were scratched up and bruised, still carrying the marks from your dad. You hesitated but then slowly extended them to Rafe.

“This might sting a little,” he said softly, wiping the cuts with antiseptic. You winced but didn’t make a sound. He noticed though, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry."

"’M used to it. It’s okay,” You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound. 

The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafe’s face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care. 

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.

“You’re not a mess.”

You let out a short, dry laugh. “Right.”

His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. “I mean it.”

His tone was so final, like there wasn’t even room for doubt.

“Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”

“You know why.”

His answer made your heart hurt, the kind of hurt that came from months of trying to keep your distance. But he wasn’t budging, and that did something to you. When he finished wrapping your hands, he set them gently in your lap. “All done.”

You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you and ssomething about it felt so foreign and so… nice. No one ever took care of you like this.

“C-Can you stay here?”

He paused, adjusting the pillows, clearly debating with himself. “I don’t think—”

“Please.”

Without saying anything, Rafe slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to you. He pulled you into his arms, and instantly, everything felt a little less terrifying. His warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of lavender—it all made you feel safe, like maybe you could finally let go.

"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

You buried your face in his chest, tears finally spilling over, but this time they weren’t from fear. They were from relief. From release. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. He just held you, and that was enough. The minutes passed and your breathing synced with his, your body finally relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension started to melt away, and before you knew it, your eyelids were getting heavy.

"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

When you woke up the next morning, Rafe was gone. The bed next to you was cold, but the events of last night still pushed heavy on your chest. You sat up, your heart dropping to the floor as you realized the nightmare wasn’t over. The bloodstained clothes on the floor, the hollow feeling in your chest—it was all real.

You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life. He had enough going on with his own family, his own problems. And now you’d dragged him into yours.

You rolled out of bed, Rafe's oversized sweatpants and t-shirt practically swallowing you whole. You had no idea where he went, so you headed toward the door, ears perked for any clue. As you walked down the hallway, you heard voices coming from the kitchen—well, Rafe’s voice, specifically, speaking in a low hushed tone.

You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of his voice growing clearer with each step.

“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”

You froze mid-step. What?

He paused, listening intently. You took another step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the counter, his phone pressed to his ear.

“No, she’s fine,” he continued, “But I want to make sure she stays that way.”

You felt your breath hitch. Oh my god. He was talking about your dad. He was trying to protect you, even now.

“Rafe…” 

He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.

“I’ll call you later.” He hung up fast, slipping his phone into his pocket, trying (and failing) to act casual. “Hey, you’re up.”

“What were you doing?” You asked, arms crossed. “Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm?”

“Rafe,” You warned, too tired to play games, “Who were you talking to?”

He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up.

“My lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.”

The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.

“What?”

Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease. 

"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."

"Why?"

“Why?”

His eyes met yours, so serious. “Because you need one.”

You stood there, completely thrown. He was really doing this—for you? He was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t even try to stop them.

“I’m sorry.”

"Stop saying that," He rubbed his hand over his face like he didn’t know what else to do, "What happened last night… it’s not something you should ever have to deal with. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve—"

“You couldn’t have known.”

Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.”

You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."

He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.

"I owe you everything," he murmured. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Don’t say that.”

But he wouldn’t let it go. He tilted your face up, thumb brushing away a tear. “You think I’d be there if it wasn’t for you? Shit—Pretty, look around. It’s just me.”

Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his tone making it hard to breathe. You had spent so long building up walls around your heart, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.

“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, “I’m okay, see?”

You covered his hand with yours. “I was so mad at you,” You admitted.

“Baby—”

“You don’t understand,” you explained, voice cracking slightly, “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly. 

"I deserved it,” Rafe muttered, trying to laugh but failing.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasn’t there.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” you insisted, your voice breaking. “You were trying to get better, and I just...walked away.”

“Jesus Christ Maybank” He let out a breathy laugh, almost like he didn’t know how to handle the conversation.. “Stop the waterfloods, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Shut up,” I sniffled, laughing through the tears. “I’m trying to apologize—”

“You don’t have to, baby,” He cut you off, shaking his head, “Not to me, or anyone else.”

His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadn’t felt in months.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.

You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure he was real. You’d dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberate…loving.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Rafe rested his forehead against yours, breath ragged.

“Can’t believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.”

Oh.

You blinked, caught off guard.

“In love?”

He bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips. 

You smiled, brushing yours fingers against his cheek. “Never thought I’d fall for a kook.”

Rafe groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” You whispered, tilting his chin up so he had to look at you. “I mean it."

His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without even saying anything, he closed the distance between you again. This time, no hesitation. None of that uncertainty from before.

His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.

His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafe’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with need.

“I need you,” your voice came out all breathless, your fingers clutching his shoulders.

He stopped for a second, lifting his head to look at you, those blue eyes dark with desire.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, swallowing hard. “Last night—”

“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”

“That night was different. We were different.”

You nodded, the memory flashing in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, how you clung to each other like you were drowning.

He hesitated for a split second longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you promised, pulling him back to you. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. His restraint melted away, and he kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, lifting you easily and carrying you upstairs. When he laid you down on the bed, it was so gentle, like you were the most precious thing to him.

Rafe hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he stripped off his shirt. Your hands traced the lines of his muscles, loving the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss, hot and deep, as his hands started unbuttoning your shirt.

Everything blurred after that—clothes disappearing, just the two of you, skin to skin. His hands, his lips, everywhere.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” he murmured.

You smiled, cupping his face, “Tell me.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, “Every damn day. Every fucking minute. I’d close my eyes and all I could see was you.”

His voice faded, but his hands kept moving, tracing soft patterns along your sides. He was rediscovering you, like it had been forever.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. “I’m here now.”

Rafe smiled against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “More than okay. I want this. I want you.”

His kisses trailed down your neck, slow and deliberate. “I love the way you laugh,” he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone. “How your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don’t see it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."

He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.

"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.

"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”

Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.

“I love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying." He slid them down, eyes never leaving yours. “Last night… I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You reached for him, fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. “I’m right here,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Right here.”

Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."

He kissed you again, this time with an urgency that made your heart race against your ribs. His lips, his hands, everything about him was showing you just how much you meant to him. You could feel him holding back though, his body tense under your hands. You trailed your fingers down his back, feeling every inch of him, and it wasn’t long before he pressed against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this too.

His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, "I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters." He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."

You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring. 

"Rafe, please..."

He kissed his way back up your body, "I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."

You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.”

He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.

When his mouth finally reached your pussy, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.

He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise,intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.

Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder, fingernails digging into your skin.

The pressure built, an overwhelming pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.

"Mmm," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. P-Please, don't stop."

He didn't.

He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Rafe’s mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire fuckcking ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you. He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.

He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.

"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.

Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles, he shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.

“Are you sure?” he asked one more time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you answered, and that was it.

He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.

In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.

You gasped at the feeling—God, you missed him. Every inch of him.

He paused, forehead resting against yours, giving you a moment to adjust. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice strained.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered, almost begging. “I want all of you.”

Rafe didn't need further encouragement.

He started moving, slow at first, but each roll of his hips had you feeling like you were losing it. Every time he pushed deeper, you swore you could feel him in your bones. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that you knew would be there tomorrow, but right now? You didn’t care. You just needed to feel closer to him.

His kiss was intense—like he was pouring everything into it, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips, making your whole body shiver. His hands were all over you, one sliding under your back to pull you even closer, the other tangling in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted. You moved with him, your bodies syncing up like you’d never been apart.

Rafe’s pace picked up, and you could tell he was losing control, his thrusts coming faster, harder. And then, his voice, low and rough, sent a chill straight through you.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck—don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he growled, his words barely audible between breaths. “Never.”

That was it—he completely let go, moving even harder, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The sound of your bodies crashing together, the moans and gasps—it was all so intense.

You didn’t understand the sudden urge, but suddenly, without even thinking, you pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back.

“Your turn,” you whispered, climbing on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, a little surprised, but the way his hands landed on your hips made it clear he was all in. And God, you’d never seen him look so good.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts gently. “Every part of you."

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his stubbled jaw. That roughness on your skin sent a rush through you, especially when you felt him brushing against you just right. You let out a soft moan, then pulled back, grinding down on him. The way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers tightened on your hips, it was like you were driving him wild.

“You like that?” you teased, your voice low, your fingers running down his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, gripping you harder. “You feel incredible.”

You reached between you, guiding him back inside, both of you gasping at the sensation. You started moving, slow at first, taking your time with it, loving the way he filled you.

Rafe’s hands were everywhere, caressing you, teasing you, making you lose it a little more with every touch. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “You feel so good inside me.”

He groaned, “You can’t be real,” his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. “This can’t be real—Shit, keep doing that.”

The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.

You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafe’s hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Come for me, baby,” Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words pushed you over. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.

You collapsed on top of him, both of you completely spent, still trying to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how intense everything felt.

When you looked up, the way he was staring at you caught you off guard. There was this softness, this disbelief in his expression, like he was seeing you for the first time.

"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.

He blinked, like he was snapping out of it, then gently traced your cheekbone with his fingers.

“I just… I can’t believe you’re real.”

“Rafe…”

He silenced you with a soft kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, but it sent a wave of warmth through you.

“I love you, Pretty Maybank,” he whispered.

You smiled, heart full. “I love you too.”

[captainfern]

Breed

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Breed” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary – you and price meet up off base. you fuck lol. • rating – 18+ [mdni] • wordcount – 4.6k • warnings – fem!reader, praise kink, breeding kink [i'm being so fr it's in bold], unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], price is a whore for you <3, strong language

(let me know if i missed any warnings! ok hope you like <3)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You had been off base for all of four hours.

It was supposed to be a weekend away from your colleagues and the cutthroat environment of a military job. You planned on enjoying a peaceful couple of days with the company of excessive amounts of alcohol, a spa, and that one situationship you had been dealing with for the past year.

So now, before your holiday even begun, you were already regretting even leaving.

You sat in a quaint little bar: complete with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a 1920’s speakeasy. The light was dim, settling the room in a golden ambiance, as people conversed with each other, nursing crystal tumblers of dark liquor or caressing the thin neck of martini glasses.

You reclined into the plush leather sofa beneath you, a glass of— as the familiar bartender described it— your usual in your hand. You swirled it around your glass, watching the liquid slosh against the sides as your “situationship” rambled on about something (you had stopped paying attention five minutes ago).

“I mean, he drove to work in a Porsche and I drove a Jaguar,” Max downed the rest of his beer. “I think we both know who has the superior taste in cars, don’t we?”

“Mhm…” you hummed, taking a sip of your drink.

Max had never been the most interesting person— hell, he was actually really fucking annoying. His only redeeming quality was that you could fuck him and not feel guilty about leaving the next morning. Convenience, really.

Max peered at you over the rim of his pint glass, cocking his head to the side as he placed it back onto the table. “Something on you mind?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh, no, sorry. It’s just been a long day—”

“Okay, great, now can I finish my story?”

You blinked at him as he continued, rambling on with no real punchline to his story— he was just trying to make himself seem richer. At this point, you were cringing. Embarrassing.

After a while of putting up with… whatever the hell Max was even talking about, you excused yourself. You popped to the bathroom, drawing out the process of washing your hands by a good five minutes, before reluctantly exiting the bathroom.

You collided with a wall.

Well, it wasn’t a wall. The wall was a man.

The body you crashed into immediately steadied you: two strong arms wrapping around your upper body, pressing you gently to a taut abdomen. You gasped out as the wall, smelling strongly of bergamot orange and whiskey, settled your firmly on your feet and held you within arms reach. Large hands gripped your shoulders, completely enveloping them.

You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for a drunken insult of some kind. “Shit, I am so sorry—!”

“Sergeant?”

You looked up, locking eyes with your captain. Captain John Price, the man responsable for leading your taskforce.

“Captain? I… I am so sorry.” You rambled, taking a step out of his reach and fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt. “I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

He laughed, deep and melodic. “S’all right, love. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, none of that crap,” he smiled, nudging you softly. “John’s fine. Or Price, if you really prefer it.”

You nodded, hiding a small smile. “Alright, Price.”

Price looked you up and down, taking in your attire and the way you had dolled yourself up. He let a small smile fall onto his lips as he leaned back against the standing-table he was situated at, elbow across it.

“Who’s got you dressed all nice, love?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was meant to be on a date, but it isn’t going well at all.”

His smile faded. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said with a shrug. “Just an old… friend. He loves to talk about himself, and he hasn’t asked about what I’ve been up to since I got here.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Two hours.”

Price let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Sounds like a right arsehole, that one. Why don’t you just head on home?”

“I’d feel guilty—”

“You kill people for a living, sergeant,” Price quipped, grabbing his whiskey tumbler and raising it to his lips. “I doubt you’d feel guilty about leaving this tosser.”

You watched him take a sip of his drink, licking the liquor off his lips as he placed the tumbler back down. You sighed, realising that he was probably right, before squaring your shoulders and setting a determined look on your face. Price laughed at your expression.

“I’ll tell him I’m leaving.” You said.

Price chuckled, giving you a wink. “You go do that, love.”

You left Price and crossed the bar, to where Max was sitting on the couch, smiling at his phone. He was typing fast, and didn’t even look up when you cleared your throat to get his attention, now standing just a few feet from him.

“I’m leaving,” you said simply. “Thanks for… the company, I guess.”

Max looked up, shutting his phone off and shoving it into his pocket as he got to his feet. “Are we not gonna fuck?”

The words leaving his mouth sounded horrid, and you withheld a grimace at his desperate tone. You shook your head, “No, we’re not.”

He scoffed. “So this has been a complete waste of time, then?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded as he shoved past you and vanished out the door. He left you with the bill and, not only that, but he was your ride— and you heard the unmistakable sound of his Jaguar revving it’s engine and tearing off down the street.

You blinked, dumbfounded, at the door, trying not to let the stinging of embarrassed tears fall from behind your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you were about to head to the bar and pay when Price stopped you, walking into your path.

“Come on, love. I’ll take you home.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Price, no, I’ve gotta pay—”

“I’ll put it on my tab,” he said simply. “Now, come on. I’ll take you home since that fuckwit wants to leave a lady stranded here.”

He ushered you gently out the door, a large, warm hand on your lower back. He didn’t let you protest: he just simply guided you out into the chilly night air. His body heat was warm against your back as he led you towards his car. His smell was intoxicating. You had the sudden urge to just whirl around and rub yourself all over him, collecting his scent like a cat.

Um, what the fuck— suddenly crossed your mind.

When you both reached his car, he opened the passenger door for you and allowed you to slide into the seat, before closing it and moving to the other side, clambering into the driver seat and slotting the key into the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

Once out onto the main road, he cast you a quick glance, both hands on the wheel, running his thumbs along the seam of the wheel’s curve. “We’re you staying?”

You gave him your address, and he raised a brow. “A penthouse suite, eh? We are clearly not being paid the same.”

You laughed, warm in his car. You smelt that same scent of bergamot citrus and whiskey floating through the car. It was tainted with cigar smoke and mint. You wanted to get the smell tattooed into your fucking brain.

The drive to your flat was comfortable. You talked with Price as though he was an old friend and not your boss. He seemed to enjoy your company, too: sparing subtly glances in your direction whenever you laughed, or whenever you got particularly excited when telling him a story. His eyes twinkled.

A few minutes later, Price had pulled up outside your building, killing the engine and hopping out of the car. You went to protest, but he moved and opened your door, beckoning you outside with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll be walking you to your door, sergeant,” Price said, almost sternly. “I’m a man of my word. I said I’d take you home, so I will.”

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to gently lead you across the foyer and into the lift. You hit your floor level and as the doors closed, you suddenly became aware of how close you and Price were to one another. You could feel his body heat. You could feel the gentle brush of his chest against your back every time he breathed.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you suddenly felt hot. Like, underwear getting wet kinda hot. In the corner of the lift, you shifted your legs, pressing your thighs together as the lift travelled upwards.

No way you’re horny right now, you thought as the lift doors opened.

You were quick to depart, hurrying down the hall and reaching your door in record speed, fumbling to get the keys out of your purse. You felt Price sidle up behind you. When you finally got the door open, you pushed it and stepped into the doorway, flicking the light on before turning and looking up at Price.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home,” you said sincerely. “And I am genuinely sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m always here if you need me, love.”

You bit your lip. The way he said that was way to hot for the way you were feeling right now. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck, and it seemed that Price took notice.

He cocked his head to the side, appraising you. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, reaching a hand out and placing it heavily on your arm. It was a solid form that was warm and strong and you had a sudden urge to just bite it.

What the fuck.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You said. Liar.

Price raised a brow, looking at the way you squirmed under his gaze. Now, he wasn’t stupid by any means— he could read your body language like a book and it made a triumphant smile flicker across his face.

He shifted the hand on your arm and dragged it to your chin, gripping it carefully and lifting it, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want, love?”

You blinked at him.

He tutted. “Don’t get shy on me now, sergeant. Tell me what you want. What’s getting you all worked up, huh?” He stroked your jaw, your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You like the way I talk to you? You like when I call you love?”

You let out a quiet whimper, nodding. He smiled down at you, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you. But he stopped, mint and whiskey laced breath fanning across your face.

“Use your words when you speak to your captain.”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, pleased. “That’s a good girl.” And then pressed his mouth to yours. It was possessive— his tongue breached past your lips, plunging desperately into your mouth as you tried to keep up. You wound your arms around his broad shoulders, sliding fingers into his hair and gripping the strands. He groaned into your mouth, pushing you further into your flat without breaking the kiss.

He slammed the door shut and locked it blindly, opting to move you around and slam your body up against it. He cupped your jaw with one hand, shifting his other to run down your side, brushing over your hip and settling on your upper thigh. He squeezed it as he slid one leg between yours, jutting his knee upwards and pressing it against your clothed core.

You let out a strangled whimper, choking on the possessive nature of the kiss as Price pressed your body against his knee, using the hand at your hip to help you move against it. You stuttered on a moan, breaking the kiss to take some short breaths, the pressure on your core alleviating the building sensations.

“This what you want?” Price grinned against your jawline, placing kisses there. “You want me to make you feel good, love?”

You nodded desperately, moaning out a pathetic “yes, sir,” before he was whirling you around and guiding you deeper into your flat. He eventually found your bedroom, and pushed you onto the bed. Your back hit the silken sheets, and he wasted no time in following you; pressing his body to yours and immediately reattaching his mouth to yours hungrily.

As the two of you kissed, he gently began to pry your clothes from your body. He slipped your shirt off, making quick work in popping off your bra. He moved down, planting kisses along your chest and across the swell of your breasts. He then drew his tongue, hot, over your right nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moaned loudly, huskily, gripping at his hair as he sucked. He moved to your left one, and repeated the process until you were a whimpering, needy mess beneath him.

After a moment, he leaned back and admired the hickeys he had created over your soft skin, running calloused fingers over them.

“This okay, love?”

You nodded, reaching up and looping your fingers around his belt. “Yes, sir.” You whined, finally managing to undo the buckle on his belt.

But he stopped you, gently pushing your hands above your head before he dipped down and kissed you again. The way he licked into your mouth made you squirm, fingers flexing beneath his strong grip. He released your arms, running his hands along the bare skin and all the way past your shoulders, over your breasts and along your sides.

His eyes never left yours as he popped the button on your pants, pulling them down your legs and throwing them across the room. When the cool air of your room hit, you realised just how wet you were— favourite pair of underwear, soaked through. Your face lit up in embarrassment as you felt Price’s eyes drift down your body.

“S’all for me?” Price uttered, finger skimming the edge of your underwear. He hooked his finger beneath it and let it go with a snap against the plush fat of your thigh.

You felt hot all over when you mumbled out a “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He pulled your underwear down your legs, dragging his hands heavily along your skin alongside it. Like your pants, he flicked your underwear across the room. Then, his hands were on your thighs and in the blink of an eye, you were flipped over.

Price lay on his back, arms wrapped around your thighs. You straddled his chest, hands resting on his pecs. Your fingers brushed through his chest hair as he looked up at you, an expectant look on his face. Your stomach flipped.

“Price…” You whined.

“Sit on my face, love.”

You hesitantly shook your head. “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Come on, darling,” Price drawled, tugging you forward. “You won’t hurt me.”

You let out a stuttered sigh as your thighs rested either side of his head, and you slowly sank your aching cunt down onto his face. You huffed out a load moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit, his tongue drawing animalistic sounds from your mouth.

“Price—!”

“That’s a good girl,” Price uttered against your core. “Ride my face, love. Take what you need.” He had an iron grip on your thighs, helping you rock yourself against his mouth. “Such a pretty, wet cunt. Tastes so fucking good.”

You moaned at his words. Your captain speaking to you like that with his face drowning in your cunt. What the fuck—

“P-Price…” You breathed. “Gonna… gonna come.”

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Price—”

“I know, darling, I know,” he said. “Come for me. Come in my mouth like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck, Price—!” You came with a moan of his name, gushing into his mouth as your hips stuttered against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Price re-surfaced— shifting you carefully onto your back and hovering over you. You smiled hazily at him, seeing his beard slick with you, shiny. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you, sergeant?” He said into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his facial hair, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers.

When Price pulled back, his lips were flushed and his dark eyes glassy. His eyes scanned your face.

“Price?” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He grumbled, deep and low from his chest. “Gonna let me fill this pretty cunt?”

Your eyes widened momentarily as he shifted his gaze down your body. You arched off the bed when his hands went back to travelling down your sides. He sat back on his heels, spreading your legs as wide as they could go, warm hands on your inner thighs.

He stared at your dripping core, and you watched him harden even more in his pants.

“Such a pretty cunt, eh, darling?” Price ran two fingers along your folds, collecting a shiny mix of your arousal and his saliva. He brought his fingers to your mouth and shoved them roughly passed your lips. “Tastes fucking heavenly, too.”

You choked on his fingers, moaning. Wrapping your tongue around them, you noticed his pupils dilate even more as he watched you.

“Jesus…” He pulled his fingers out, then began tracing them along your core again. He watched his fingertips slip between your folds, and then watched the way you writhed in anticipation each time his fingers skimmed your aching hole.

“Fuck, just— Price, please—” You warbled, body hot. You could feel your arousal leaking out of you, pooling below your arse on the bedsheets.

Price laughed lowly, before sinking two fingers into your desperate cunt, right up to the knuckle. You keened, a high-pitched moan filtering between your lips at the intrusion. His digits were thick, dragging against your gummy walls, stretching you open with obscene squelching noises.

He cooed at you as he added a third finger. “Take it, darling. Such a good girl taking all three, aren’t you? This pretty cunt’s so good for me. Just for me.”

You moaned and wiggled against the bed as he pumped three fingers inside you. You felt full, satiated. Your slick was dripping down his hand, his wrist and sliding into the hairs along his forearms.

“Making such a mess, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet…” Price drawled as you fluttered around his fingers, hips bucking.

“Price, sir, need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t relent the movements of his fingers, and you felt your second orgasm building strongly within you. He tutted, clucking his tongue as he thrusted his fingers into you. “Want you to come on my fingers first. You can do that, can’t you, love? Come all over my fingers before you can come on my cock.”

You whined, forcing yourself to nod and nod and nod as your orgasm towered over you, looming like a shadow. “F-fuck, m’gonna—”

The words died on your tongue as your orgasm ripped through you, a blinding pressure released from your abdomen. A wet gush of arousal flooded beneath you, and you felt it. As you shook, legs trembling, chest heaving, you heard Price chuckling to himself as he retracted his dripping fingers.

“Such a messy girl,” he mused. “Look what you’ve done.”

You used your remaining strength to look down at where he was— his shirt splattered with your arousal, wet dripping onto his lap. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Price prevented you from shying away. He dragged himself up your body and placed kisses as he went— ending his exploration by settling a deep kiss to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you now? You deserve it, don’t you? Been such a good girl for me, letting me eat that pretty cunt.”

Such lewd words coming from your captain’s mouth— a man of such impressive status and honourability— was slightly disconcerting. However, you couldn’t find into yourself to care, nor think about the HR nightmare the two of you were in the midst of causing.

All you were focussing on was ripping open your tear-lined eyes and watching as the captain— your captain— shed himself of his dress shirt and then his pants. When he pulled down his boxers, you literally tossed your head back and moaned, much to the amusement of Price— who chuckled lowly at you, gripping his cock at the base.

“Want it that bad, darling?” He mused, leaning forward to run the head of his cock up and down your glistening folds.

“Yes, fuck—!”

“Ask nicely,” Price placed a couple of soft kisses along the underside of your jaw. “Good girl’s ask nicely, don’t they?”

You whined out some pathetic excuse for a please, lifting your arms to thread your fingers into his hair as he hovered over you. His body was heavy against you: the weight of his cock firm against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Price lined himself up with your dripping cunt, slowly pushing in. He released a low groan from the depths of his chest as his cock slid into your tight heat, your cunt fluttering around him. You joined him, breathing out panting moans as he sunk deeper and deeper.

With one final push, Price’s cockhead was nestled up against the plug of your womb, pulsing within you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

“You feel… Jesus Christ— you feel so good, love. So tight around me,” his voice had a whiny undertone. “Can I move, darling?”

You nodded, full. It’s like you could feel him in your chest.

With a deep grunt, Price dragged his cock all the way out until the wet tip of him rested at your entrance— before he pushed back in roughly. You jolted, moaning as he set a pace that you hadn’t at all been expecting. You felt the need to be stabilised, your hands groping across his shoulders, down his back, along his arms. Your hands travelled down his torso, feeling the rigid planes of muscle and wiry hair.

Price panted in your ear. “Such a— fuck— such a good girl. Being such a good girl for your captain, darling. Making me— hngh— making me so proud.”

Your stomach and cunt fluttered simultaneously at the praise, eliciting a moan from both you and Price. He was truly fucking you into your bed: the mattress creaking along with the bed frame; the cushioned headboard knocking gently against the wall. Somewhere across your apartment, your radio was playing— you’d left it on before you left for the evening— and Breed by Nirvana was playing. Fitting for the occasion, considering—

“Fuck, gonna come in this tight fucking cunt,” Price groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna stuff you full ‘o me.”

You writhed beneath him, back arching off the bed and aching nipples brushing against his chest. You were getting close, judging by the way that familial coil was tightening in the depths of your belly. Tighter and tighter as he fucked his fat cock harder and harder into you, deeper and deeper against your cervix.

A thin sheen of sweat lay across your skin, glowing. Price didn’t care, clearly, as he peppered kisses across your chest, sucking bites onto the base of your neck as he rutted into you, hips slamming against yours. You felt one of his large, warm hands slide from your waist and across your pelvis, settling a finger on your sensitive clit.

You whined, and he shushed your gently. “Take it, darling, take it. I know you can… come on.”

Price rubbed tight circles against the bundle of nerves as he fucked you, hitting that same spot within you that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids and whimpering his name repeatedly.

It only took a couple of seconds for you to reach your peak.

“Price, m’gonna come,” you gasped, trembling and snapping your eyes open. “Please, sir—!”

He groaned, gruff and pleasure-strained. “That’s a good girl, darling. ‘Course you can come. Come all over my fucking cock and show me how much of a good girl you are for your captain.”

Yeah, that was it.

You came, for lack of better words, violently. You legs shook, knees trembling as you arched your back off the mattress. Your body pressed tight to Price’s, his cock angling deeper as he fucked you through your post-orgasmic haze. Your breaths came in pants, face flushed and clit throbbing.

Price meanwhile was nearing his peak as well. He was fucking you into your silken sheets like a scene out of some kind of porno— large hands gripping at your waist, your thighs; eyes travelling hungrily down your body to where his cock repeatedly entered your tight hole. His cock was completely slick with you, his pelvis and lower stomach splashed and glimmering with your arousal.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Price groaned, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Come so deep in this cunt you’ll feel me for weeks— ruin you for any other man, eh, love? That fuckwit from the bar has nothing on me.”

You didn’t even have the energy to moan like you really fucking wanted too. Everything he was saying was going straight to your aching cunt, and it was probably sending you to an early ovulation. You felt like you craved him.

Price suddenly grabbed your hand, bringing it downwards to where his cock slammed into you. He pushed your fingers around your hole so that you could feel where his fat cock entered you over and over again. You moaned at the feeling, just as Price knocked your hand aside and folded you in half— pressing your legs up against your chest. A mating press.

He was huffing now, drawing near his climax as another one built within you.

“One more time for me, love.” He said and Jesus Christ you didn’t need to be told again.

Another orgasm overtook you before you knew it was there: drowning you and leaving you gasping as you gushed around him, hands gripping the back of his neck for support. You sighed out his name, airy and exhausted, as his thrusts began to lose rhythm.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he uttered. “So good for me. Now ‘m gonna fill this cunt so good— shit— fucking breed you nice and full. Might take, eh, love? You’d love that wouldn’t you? Love being all nice and fat with my kid, and I’d fuck you whenever you wanted— hngh, Jesus— give this needy cunt my cock whenever you wanted.”

These words were coming out of your captain’s mouth… Soap is never going to believe you.

Price let out a low, almost whimper of a sound as he thrusted sloppily a couple more times. “Take it, darling, fuck. Take my come. Fucking take it like my good girl. So proud of you.”

He came with a shudder and a deep groan: warmth flooding your insides and splashing deep into your cervix— helpful thanks to the fact you could feel him in your guts.

The both of you breathed heavily in tandem until his cock softened inside you and he pulled out carefully. His come oozed out of your hole, and he shoved it back inside with two fingers.

Price cleared his throat. “I’m gonna have to do a lot of paperwork to get us out of whatever mess we’ve just put ourselves in.”

You sighed. “Let’s not talk about work when you’re knuckle deep in my pussy.”

Price stopped talking, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[mrsparrasblog]

POLY 141 when you die because of being in a relationship with them.

Tw: Angst, dead, alcohol

No, I won’t pay for your therapy after reading this.

Kyle: Instead of feeling hurt, he felt rage. He was eager to kill everyone responsible. He didn’t hold back punches, and he didn’t kill with just a bullet wound. This wasn’t a mercy you got, so why should they? He tortured them until they begged for death. After everyone was dead, he realized that he couldn’t bring you back, that he missed your funeral because of this, and he cried for hours at your grave, begging for forgiveness. He wished he had been there with you.

Soap: He didn’t have the luxury of grieving and despised John and Kyle for that. Someone needed to take care of their kids, someone needed to hold everything together, and he did. He didn’t allow himself to grieve for you. He talked to your kids about you so they would never forget you. After he got all the kids to graduate, married off, or whatever they wanted in life, he allowed himself to cry for the first time.

John: He was always too close to the bottle, and your death only made it worse. For the first few months, Johnny brought him back home, but after three months, Johnny stopped, and Price’s home became the pub. “Don’t have a reason, she’s gone, Simon’s gone, Kyle’s crazy, and the kids—they know I’m not their real dad. They don’t need me.” Five years later, he made peace with everyone before he died happily of liver failure. “I’m going to see her again.”

Ghost: He knew dating him was a mistake; he knew it all along. So when he came home from his deployment with the boys and saw your dead body on the ground, covered in blood and ripped clothes, it was over. He didn’t even seek revenge. He knew what to do after Beth’s, Tommy’s, and his mom’s deaths. He was gone, left everyone behind, sent all his money to his kids, and disappeared without even saying goodbye to his boyfriends, much to Johnny’s hurt. He lived the rest of his life alone, in fear that someone else would get killed because of him. He couldn’t deny himself the chance to stand hidden in the crowds at your daughter's graduation and wedding. Seeing Johnny walk her down the aisle was his last straw.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Just because your pack is back together doesn’t mean things are back to normal

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly141, cursing, mentions of being scared, smoking, short chapter

Chapter 30 <- Chapter 31 -> Chapter 32

“Hi, Ms. Garrick,” you greeted. You heard her chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“Well hello, lovely,” she greeted back. You smiled at the similarities between their pet names for you. She had gotten your number from John after Kyles accident. She called you leaving the kindest message in your inbox.

Hello, Sweetheart. Now you don't know me, but my name is Rosalind Garrick, Kyle’s mother. But don't think that just because you don't know me, I know nothing about you. You’re all Kyle talks about anymore and I’m just so happy he's finally able to get some peace amongst his chaos. I know how hard this all must be for you so if you ever need anyone to talk to please reach out to me. As far as I'm concerned you’re a part of our pack and we want to make sure you are taken care of.

Alright, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.

Since then you've called her every few days, mostly to give her updates about Kyle.

“How’s our beta doing?” she asked.

“He’s been doing good. Started to get up and walk with crutches. He's stubborn and restless,” you grumbled. As if on cue, the beta trudged out of his room, heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s the man I know,” she chuckled.

“Hey, mum,” Kyle greeted from the kitchen. You bounded over, hoisting yourself up onto the counter.

“The next time you all go on leave I want you to come home,” She pressed. You grinned wickedly, agreeing before the words had even reached Kyle’s ears. “I’ve only met Johnny. Now it’s a crime I haven't met your alphas yet, and I'm not going to let you get away with me not meeting your omega. In-person,” she added.

“Sounds right to me,” you agreed. That's why she loved you.

“You’ll love the city. Did Kyle tell you about all the museums? I know you love those.”

Kyle did tell her about you.

“We can work that out,” Kyle agreed. He did want to go home, and he desperately wanted to share that part of himself with you. You and Ms. Garrick both squealed excitedly.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you asked. He stiffened immediately, his mind jumping to the worst.

Had he hurt you again?

Your hands smoothed over his shoulder, your bottom resting against his knee. His relax was instantaneous. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours.

“I was wondering if I could get a job?” you said slowly. It wasn't slow enough with the way the wheels in his mind were turning.

“Why? Something you need? It’s my job”-

“No, nothing like that. It’s more social than anything.” you interjected. “I’ll be with Anais and Jane. It’s at a new bakery a little off base. It's just a few hours on Fridays and the weekend,” you explained.

He wanted to shut it down. You were social enough. Before Kyle was hurt you had activities nearly every day. Sometimes it felt like you did more in a day than they did.

Yet the look in your eyes halted him. You had forgiven him- he could feel it. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you after just making up.

“Alright,” he agreed. You gasped softly, a wide grin spreading over your face. It made him happy despite the feeling of something wrong clawing at him.

“Thank you!” you cheered, your lips colliding with his cheek.

“One of us will take you to work the first week. Then you girls can commute together. And you are never to go off on your own, you understand?” he urged. You hummed against his cheek. “And I need to meet your boss- and anyone else who’s working there,” he added, between your attacks.

You were just about to head to your room, when a strong arm wrapped around your middle. You recognized a familiar tattoo.

“Tavy,” you giggled. He said nothing, heading to his room.

“Seems like you've forgotten it’s my night, bonbon,” he teased, tossing you on his bed. He crawled over you, making you flush.

“I could never forget,” you lied, blinking up at him. He smirked down at you, completely still for a moment before pressing rapid-fire kisses against your cheek.

You squealed as his hands tickled up and down your sides.

“Mac, no!” you gasped out. “I was just getting tired,” you whined against him. He paused, his smirk pressing against yours.

“Alright, peaches,” he agreed. He wrapped an arm tightly around you, purring softly as you buried your face in his chest. Cinnamon mixed with some of your vanilla lotion he had stolen.

“Simon comes home tomorrow,” you sighed happily. Johnny hummed, a pleased rumble leaving his throat. “I thought you and John would be gone longer,” you yawned.

“So did we,” he yawned back. He said nothing more on the topic, yet you didn't expect him to.

When you woke up you were no longer trapped between him and the bed, but him and another body. Leather with an undertone of black licorice. There was more smoke in his scent than you were used to. He must have been smoking a lot. A purr vibrated through you, making his chestnut eyes flutter open.

“What’re you purring about?” Simon groaned, pushing the two of you closer to Johnny. He was playing dumb. You could feel the curl of his lips against the back of your head.

“You’re back,” you said weakly, your throat hoarse with sleep.

“I’m back,” he affirmed. His hand found your stomach rubbing small circles in an attempt to lull you back to sleep. He wasn't ready to get up yet. He had just gotten home an hour ago and the last thing he wanted to do was pull himself away from the warmth of this bed. “Go back to sleep, pup,” he urged. You didn't need much more convincing, your eyes practically sewing themselves shut.

“Welcome home,” Johnny grumbled, with half-lidded eyes.

“Thanks, pup,” Simon mumbled, his fingers digging into the Scots side, pulling all of you closer once more. That wasn't usual for Simon, needing to have his pack this close, especially after a mission. Something must’ve happened.

“You alright?” Johnny drawled, unburying his face from your neck. Simon hummed in assurance.

“Fine, mutt,” he soothed. “Get some sleep,” he pressed, his fingers racking up and down Johnny’s lower back.

The next time Simon woke he had a fever. It was hot enough to make you and Johnny wake up in a sweat. Johnny quickly grabbed you, plopping you on the couch next to Kyle- assuming you may have triggered a rut for Simon like you had for John.

“What’s happening?” John groaned, uncurling himself from Kyle on the couch.

“Fever,” you responded. Kyle's hand pressed against your forehead. “Simon,” you clarified, moving to stand so you could peek into Johnny’s room. “I don't think it’s a rut Johnny,” you mumbled.

“I’m fine,” Simon groaned. He peeled off his sweatshirt, flopping back down against the mattress. His wide chest rose and fell irregularly. You approached your hand resting on his stomach. His body seemed to relax slightly, and you decided to take the chance and curl up against him. His heartbeat was fast- too fast.

“I’m calling a doctor,” John pressed, gently maneuvering Kyle off of him. Simon flipped the two of you over, making you gasp. Johnny flung forward his hand gripping the alpha’s shoulder.

“Not gonna do anything, pup,” he mumbled, his heart squeezing at the sound that escaped you. “Need to feel ya,” he mumbled, just low enough for you to hear. His hand crept under your shirt resting against the soft skin of your back.

He couldn't explain it. It started two weeks ago, a light burning sensation under his skin, and an almost sour feeling in his mouth. It felt like he was going through withdrawals. He was shaky, his heart skipping beats. He went through two packs of cigarettes in a day and still no relief. Wasn't till he met you at the hospital after Kyle’s accident did he start to put it together. Yet it only got worse being around you.

He growled against your neck, clenching his jaw so hard his teeth creaked.

“Doctor’ll be here in fifteen,” John spoke, his shoulder taking up the doorway. “How long have you felt this way?” John pressed.

“Couple weeks,” he growled. A pang shot through his skull, he steadied himself over you, taking a deep breath. It only made it worse, yet he couldn't pull himself away. Johnny leaned against the desk causing it to creak, the sound sending Simon on high alert. You whined at the snarl that left him. “Sorry,” he apologized instantly.

“Sweetheart, how about we wait on the couch till the doctor gets here?” John offered, beginning to move towards the two of you. He didn't like the way Simon was acting. The sound that came out of Simon was deadly, making it known he disagreed with Johns suggestion. John released a sound of his own.

You were scared.

It didn't help when Simon's hand reached behind him, grabbing at John's shirt.

“What the hell?” Johnny growled. Johnny sprung into action, his arms reaching under Simons pulling him to the floor.

“Get out!” John commanded. You didn't need to be told twice, throwing yourself off the bed, curling up behind Kyle. Kyle held you with both arms, not caring about the uncomfortable stretch of his shoulder.

“Up we go,” Kyle pressed, grabbing his crutch and leading you into your room. He locked the door behind the both of you, cradling you against him as you shook.

You could hear them.

Cursing. The sound of someone being slammed against the wall. Growling. Shouting. Things breaking.

The smell of angry alpha began to seep under the door.

“Kyle,” you whimpered. He shushed you softly, his lips pressed against your hairline.

It suddenly went quiet.

Hi friends! See you in three days for chapter 32! 🧡🙌🏻

[princessbrunette]

what do u think the boys would be like with a sleepy gf

rafe: all exasperated and dad-like about it. he’s like those dads that say shit like “wow, good afternoon.” when you wake up at like eleven. all condescending about it, blaming any negative feeling you have throughout the day on the fact you sleep so much. “my head hurts.” “uh, maybe cos you sleep until fuckin’ noon, i dunno.” he starts to set alarms for you, and if you turn it off and roll over in the morning he scoops you up and carries you to the kitchen — huffing and puffing as he holds you on his hip and lets you wake up slowly, burrowing into his neck. “i’m making you a coffee, to wake you up. jesus— how is it possible for someone to sleep this much, huh?”

jj: sleeps with you, because something about your sleepy lethargic presence makes him sleepy too (hes an empath 😍) so if he sees you dropping off on the couch, he squishes himself right up behind you, dragging you back into his chest. “hey, make room for me. i’m tryna sleep too.” the two of you can literally sleep until afternoon if you let it happen, cuddling beneath the sheets without a care in the world for your responsibilities.

pope: he worries and tries to over analyse why you’re so sleepy. you curl up to his side in his room whilst he does some work on his laptop, heavy breathing indicating you’ll fall asleep in the middle of the day soon, again. “hey, why are you sleepy?” he asks, dropping everything to shift his body to face you. “hm?” you ask, disturbed by his voice. “i keep telling you you’re iron deficient. you know no one sleeps this much. are you depressed? what can i do? actually let me google—” his fingers are already typing at his keyboard and you groan, explaining that you’re just like this.

john b: it doesn’t bother him in the slightest because he doesn’t mind the peace and quiet, even letting you nap on his lap whilst he’s sat at the table overlooking maps. he accepts that sleeping is just a part of your personality, and he’s such a caregiver at heart that if you’re not napping — he knows you’re gonna get all crabby, so he is constantly enforcing routine on you, leading your grumpy self to the couch and pulling a blanket over your body. “i think someone needs a nap. c’mon, down girl.” he gently eases you to lay down, arm resting on the back of the couch as he focuses his attention on the tv quietly buzzing. “i’m gonna be riiiight here.” he soothes, rubbing your back as you fall asleep, your boyfriend focused on some old game show on the screen.

[nia-writes]

How they wake you up in the mornings~

A/N: this is based on them being off duty~~

Warnings: Slight NSFW in Prices, mentions of reader panicking.

Ghosty~

Normally: This man is up at 5am every morning, even off duty. Doesn't matter what time he slept the night before, 1am, 3am, 4am, he's still up. That being said, he won't wake you until later. Wake me up at 5am and I will fight. Unless you asked for him to wake you, he won't. But, if you did, he'd be gentle. Shaking you very lightly, and when your eyes open and focus on him, he's got a soft smile specially for you. He’s so whipped for you.

To be sweet: Simon can be very sweet~ especially once you've broken down his many, hard walls. At first, he would be unsure how to show you he loves you, so he makes you breakfast. I believe he would be a decent cook, and he would try his very best to make your favorite dishes. He would set the tray of food down on the nightstand, with tea of course, and gently start to kiss you awake. He will tickle if you refuse to wake up.

In a emergency: He's already thrown you over his shoulder and out the door before you even woken up- Doesn't matter what the emergency is, you are always his first priority.

To be a pain: Please tell me why I believe this man would just... *flip* the mattress over. Like, he'd place something on the floor so you don't get hurt, but test his patience and well.. you'll end up on the floor. He would make sure you're ok though, he's not that mean.

FOAP~~

Normally: He would always wake you up in a chaotic way. Tickling, dragging you out of bed, wrapping you up in the blanket like a burrito and throwing you over this shoulder, he does it all. He's always very gentle with you, before he attacks you in affection.

To be sweet: Johnny would be the the sweetest. He'd first start off by kissing and cuddling you, then depending on your mood, would order food or cook for you. Mornings like these are his favorite, he's a huge ball of affection and will suffocate you with it. RIP in peace

In an emergency: Oh gosh.. if you have anxiety, good luck. same bestie. He doesn't mean to overreact, but in a situation where your safety is in danger, his brain is empty as he picks you up and runs. He is very apologetic after, and will crush you with his love.

To be a pain: *Scottish music intensifies* For real, if you've still haven't woken up yet and he's having withdrawal symptoms from your smile- he will be the biggest pain. Along with the blaring music, he can, and will, starting singing loudly. He would also open the curtains and hold your hand above your head so you can't block your eyes. Good luck to you, just wake up.

John Price~

Normally: Price is a very busy man. On days when he's in a rush, he'll place a sweet kiss, rubbing your arms affectionately. But if he's home, he'll take his time. Holding you close to him, kissing your face, neck and shoulders.

To be sweet: He's extra needy in the mornings. Wakes you by caressing your body, nipping your ear. Saying soft praises while he thrusts gently into you. Afterwards, he would be super doting. Cooking, running a bath, whatever you need he will get it.

In an emergency: Very calm. It's almost creepy how calm he can be, as he uses his military voice to wake you. You know something has happened at his tone, knowing he rarely uses it with you. He's comforting still, if you're still sleepy, he will pick you up.

To be a pain: *Sighs* you won't need a shower because he's already given you one. If you ignore his warnings to wake up, he'll get a bucket, fill it to the very brim, and dump it on you. Yes, its cold water, yes, he is smiling so smug. Don't even dare to be mad with him, he warned you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick~

Normally: He would be lazy in the mornings, when he's on a mission, he doesn't get the chance to sleep or rest. He always wakes up first, smiling as he cuddles you tight. He kisses you gently until you wake up, whispering in your ear: "Mornin', love." Definitely stays in bed for hours.

To be sweet: Ah hes such a caring boyfriend~ He'd gently kiss you awake, once you've had a little soft make out session, Kyle would grab you like a princess and place you on the couch. He'd make you breakfast while cracking jokes with you. Always compliments you each morning, he finds you heavenly.

In an emergency: Very protective. He would still let you stay asleep as he picks you up and gets you to safety.

To be a pain: Bangs pots and pans together. May or may not eat your favorite food in front of you if you refuse to get out of bed, and when you do leave, he doesn't give you any. (unless you threaten to not kiss him) Or if you're a gamer, he'd tease you by saying: "Love, I'm about to play!" that would get me up so quick-

Alejandro~

Normally: This romantic, smooth man god i want him so bad. He's sweet every morning, bet he would leave the house early to grab you fresh flowers each day. He's just so in love with you. Always has to wake you with kisses, he's holding you so close to his chest. Your bodies are intertwined as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear~

To be sweet: Ugh. He's always sweet, especially in the mornings. But when he's feeling extra affectionate he writes you a love letter. You have a box fulled of them. He has so much love for you that it overflows so he has to write it down. Ale would run a bath for you, lighting candles and adding in your favorite scent. He will join you if you let him. Also needy in the mornings, but now as sweet as Price. who needs legs?

In an emergency: He is so calm when he wakes you, you'd have no idea that something happened. He doesn't want to scare or cause you to panic you so he, gently but quickly, grabs you and leaves. If you do panic, he is quick to calm you, calmly smoothing your back while whispering reassuring words.

To be a pain: I can never see him being a pain. Except for when he hasn't had your affection for a long time and you refuse to wake up. He'd lightly grab your ankle and drag you from the bed. Good luck if you're ticklish, he won't spare you. i can take him-

König~

Normally: At first, he would be hesitant to wake you. Even if you had asked him to, he would still be very anxious. He would also be scared to hurt you, he's a big tall delicious man, in his eyes you are precious. He would start by gently caressing your leg, whispering your name. And when you wake up and smile at him, he swears his heart stops.

To be sweet: He would leave early morning to get your favorite breakfast and snacks. Since he's home, he wants to spend the whole day with you, watching movies and not leaving your side. When he's back, he smiles as he caresses your cheek, his face turning red as he watches you slowly wake up.

In an emergency: Panics. He quickly calms himself and lifts you up with such ease, gently holding you as he runs. He reassures you everything is fine, not wanting to panic you, but he deals with the situation swiftly. There’s not many moments where he can spend with you, and he won’t let anything get in the way.

To be a pain: Never. He's the most sweetest amongst the men here, I can see him never being a pain to you, even if you absolutely refuse to wake up in the mornings.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𖥔

summary ; after being rescued, emotions are high when jj finally comes to terms with what happened between you on the island.

notes ; jj x best!friend reader, ANGST, profanities, eventual fluff, kissing. let me know if i forgot any !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

nobody in the entire world had ever made you feel so unapologetically yourself as jj maybank did. from the moment you met him, you knew he would become a constant in your life. just talking to him felt as easy as breathing. it was comfortable and warm, and he made you feel seen - jj made everything feel easy with you. 

and yet, as you stood on the lawn outside his house, you had never been so afraid of doing just that as you did now. 

ever since you got back from the island that jj had dubbed ‘poguelandia’, things had been significantly different, like, something had shifted the dynamic among the group. john b was acting weird, sarah was nowhere to be found, kie and pope were on lockdown, cleo with him, and jj… well, jj had been distancing himself, but specifically from you. 

it all felt so wrong. you were pogues, you were meant to have each other's backs through everything, so why did you all feel so disconnected?

with each and every step you take, your nerves only seem to intensify, knowing that you were only a few seconds away from seeing jj. the way things had been left with him you weren’t expecting him to be excited to see you, but you wondered if he would even care that you were there.

making your way around the bend of the house, you're immediately taken when you catch sight of the yellow tape and eviction notice stuck to the front door. do the other’s know about this? you think to yourself. is this why he’s been so closed off from the rest of us?

you all knew that it was going to be the hardest for jj to come back to kildare. he had no one to welcome him back or tell him how worried they were, and now his home was being taken away from him. it hurt your heart to know how much he was dealing with, and there was very little you could do to help ease the burden. 

sure, he may not like the place as much anymore, but it was all he had left after luke bailed on him. everything other than the pogues, everything other than you - which, at the moment, you weren't so sure about either. 

you hear him before you see him, the sound of metal clanging together followed by an array of curse words filling the air, and your heart sinks as you turn to see him over by the marsh, working on his bike. he looked so peaceful, despite the swearing, and in his element, unaware of your presence and the fact that you were only a measly fifteen steps behind him. 

had you not already seen the eviction notice, you would've been arguing with yourself to leave, but there was no way you could do that now. you were there to check on jj, and if anything, he was going to need you now more than ever. 

a lot had happened on the island, and so many memories had been made – ones that you would cherish forever, while others you wished you could forget altogether – but you never once imagined how different things with jj would be now. 

as you slowly approach the blond, you try to think of something to say to break the ice but come up short when you eventually reach him, deciding on, “do you need a hand?”, instead.

jj takes a quick look at you before returning his attention to his bike, “what are you doing here?” he asks in a way that makes you believe he doesn't want you there. 

the bluntness of it catches you off guard, immediately setting off a panic inside you, and you fumble over your words for a moment before settling on what to say next. though you were sure from the way he looked at you, that he didn't really care. 

"well, we haven't really spoken since we got back and i just... i wanted to make sure that you were okay," you lift your shoulders into a small shrug, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you offer him a friendly smile - a smile that's fast to fade when he finally turns to look at you properly. 

“i’m fine,” is all he says. 

you thought that after spending an entire month together, he would know better than to lie to you. you could tell that he wasn’t fine, that something had severely changed in jj. the light that once filled his eyes while you were on the island, spending your days in the sun catching fish, going for late-night swims and making coconut bras, had surely vanished. replaced by dark circles that encapsulated his eyes, proving that he hadn't been getting much sleep either. 

“are you sure? because i just-”

“i’m fine,” he repeats, cutting you off in the process. “in fact, i’ve never been better.”

you gesture back to the house where the front door was covered in police tape. “what’s going on, j?”

this time when he speaks, he purses his lips with what you can only assume to be irritation as he continues sifting through his tools again, “i said i’m fine, y/n. just leave it.”

you don’t push him any further, knowing just how stubborn the maybank boy was. he wouldn’t let someone help him unless he was tied down and forced to. jj hated handouts, he hated feeling like he owed someone, so he preferred to do things via his own methods. 

“okay. i’ll get out of your hair then,” you nod, burying your hands into your pockets now. “just let me know if there’s anything i can do.”

if he hears your words, he doesn’t bother to show or acknowledge it, too busy tinkering with his bike to pay you any mind. though, you don’t make it very far, only a couple of steps, before he’s opening his mouth to speak once more. 

“haven’t you already done enough?” he mutters, scoffing as though he couldn’t believe the audacity of you wanting to help him. 

a mix of emotions floods over you as you take in his words, the comment setting a pang off in your chest, and you turn back to him with disbelief, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

there was a bitterness to his words that lets you know his attitude towards you was about so much more than just wanting to know if he was okay. he spoke as if he was blaming you for something, and there was only one thing you knew it could’ve been. 

one thing that you knew jj would be willing to use against you. 

the cool night air nipped at your skin as you and jj lay on the sand, heads resting in your arms, as you stared up at the starry night sky. you didn’t think you would ever get used to this – sharing such a serene moment with jj – but it had quickly become a nightly ritual in your new island life. if you weren’t watching the stars, you were sitting by the fire, or on nights when the water was still a little warm, you’d be sneaking in a late-night swim. 

“would you stay here forever if you could?” the question comes from him so abruptly. “i mean, if you had the option to go back to the obx or stay here, what would you choose?”

“it depends, am i staying here alone or are you guys here with me?” you roll onto your side, resting your head in the palm of your hand as your view changes from the night sky to the blond who seemed to hold the entire galaxy in his eyes. 

jj chuckles to himself, “we’d be right here with you, always.” he scrunches his nose at the end, though it feels like there’s a secret weight to the question you don’t know about. 

“go back, obviously,” you roll your eyes, watching as jj’s face contorts into an expression of faux sadness, and you playfully tap him on the shoulder, before sitting up, “i’m kidding. i’d choose to stay. if it’s where you’ll be, then so am i.”

a small silence ensues as jj thinks over your answer, and just as you had predicted, there was more to the question than he was letting on. he didn’t care so much about whether you would go or stay, he cared about whether or not you would leave him. 

“what about you? if i were back in kildare, would you stay, or would you come back?” you twist his question.

his brows meet in the middle as he sits up to join you, and he pouts his lips as he pretends to be thinking really hard about it, “i’d go… wherever you are.”

“yeah?” 

“yeah,” he nods, sharing a look that seemed to only be reserved for you. his eyes dancing over your features and his lip tugs up into a smirk, “after all, what’s paradise if you can’t share it with the people you love?”

you knew he didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to, but hearing him say it, and hearing him say that he would follow you back, ignited a feeling in your tummy that no one else ever had before. there was something about the way he spoke with you as if nothing else in the world mattered, and with the way the moon and the stars were shining down on him, you couldn’t help yourself. 

you lean forward, but where you expected him to pull away, he meets you in the middle. there’s an urgency to the kiss, like, he had been waiting for it just as long as you had, and the second your lips touch, you feel sparks exploding inside your chest. 

if anywhere in the world is worthy of being called ‘paradise’, you think, it must be this moment right here. 

he tries to deepen the kiss, pushing into you more, but before he can pull you closer, pope’s voice calling out to you both causes you to pull apart, and you’re left breathless. your chest rises and falls dramatically as you try to regain your breath, while jj coins his fingers through his hair. 

“we, uh, we should probably go,” jj swallows hard, but something in him has changed. he refuses to meet your eyes, refuses to show you any sort of emotion. he doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s dusting off the back of his pants and heading back to the group, leaving you bewildered by what had just happened. 

“wait, jj,” you follow after him, but he doesn’t bother to stop, his mind solely on getting back to the others. “jj, stop, can we just-”

“no, y/n. we can’t… we can’t be doing shit like that,” he looks disappointed as he stops dead in his tracks. “just… it never happened, okay?”

that was your last night on poguelandia and had you known it would be the last, you certainly wouldn’t have let it end the way that it did. you had tried to talk to jj the next morning, but with the events that followed over the next few days, your mind had been elsewhere. 

it was hard trying to get used to being back home, to not waking up with your friends, but eventually, the kiss with jj was all that you could think about; consuming your every thought. 

it’s jj’s voice that cuts you from your thoughts, filling you with the same guilt that had been riddling you for the past week or so, “look, i really don’t have time for this.”

“just like you don’t have time for me anymore?” you retort, earning yourself a pointed look from the blond. you didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it was the truth.  

he snickers, dropping the tool in his hand on the table, before leaning against it, “no. it means, i don’t have time for this. look, you don’t need to worry about me anymore, okay? just… go, y/n. go back to your family, and your home, and let me be.”

the sound of your heart thrumming rapidly in your chest fills your ears as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. this wasn’t the jj you had spent the last month with, he was rigid and cold, and there was a look in his eyes – a twinge in his gaze as he looked at you – that made you believe that this was all your fault. 

jj had never been so ruthless with you before, and seeing your best friend in such a way had you sick to your stomach.

“where is all of this coming from, j?” your voice is shaky, and yet, the only answer you’re met with is silence as your biggest fear manifests before your eyes.

you felt so small – small enough that you hoped the world would open up and swallow you whole – while jj busied himself with his tools once again, moving on as if he didn’t have a care in the world. like, everything that had happened that night, and everything he had said, was because of you. as if he hadn’t played a part in it too. 

deciding that you weren’t going to take all the blame for this, you walk to the other side of the table so that he has no choice but to look at you, “you can’t just shut me out like this, okay? you’re my best fucking friend, j, and i’m not going to let you push me away.”

for a split second, jj closes his eyes as his head falls between his shoulders. you wondered what was going through his head, if he even cared about how you were feeling, or if he was just thinking of a way to get rid of you. but the words that leave his lips aren’t what you were expecting at all. 

“please… just go home, y/n.” he lets out an exasperated sigh, but when he sees the determined look in your eyes, he knows that you’re not going anywhere. so he takes matters into his own hands and starts to walk away.

“jj, please stop. if i could take it all back, i would. i would take it all back in a heartbeat, but i can’t,” you feel a weird sense of deja vu as you follow behind him desperately, much like you had that night on the island. “i see the way you look at me, how much you resent me for it, okay? i see it. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i ruined everything.”

there’s a falter in jj’s movements as he hears the last bit, knowing damn well what it felt like to be the reckoning of all chaos in your own life; to continue down a path that he knows he shouldn’t, but does anyway.

jj looks sad as he slowly turns back around to you, clearly regretting how he had reacted to everything. he starts toying with his fingers, anxiety and worry written all over his face.

“y’know, i keep trying to tell myself that what happened between us meant nothing, that it shouldn’t have happened,” he pauses, heaving a deep breath. his movements become jittery, one hand slightly balled as the other clenches at the air. “but no matter how hard i try, i can’t stop thinking about it and about how badly i wanted it to happen.”

“so why do you keep pushing me away?”

“because it was wrong, and i knew that it was wrong but i still did it anyway.” 

“was it wrong because we’re pogues or was it wrong because it was me?” your question lingers in the air for a moment, the silence almost torturous. 

all that could be heard was the gentle rise and fall of the waves in the distance. 

jj opens his mouth to speak, but he closes it before he does, giving you the answer you needed. you had tried to brace yourself for his answer, but nothing could possibly have prepared you for the hurt you were now feeling. 

“got it,” you nod, drawing in your bottom lip and clamping your teeth down to hold back the tears that were begging to see the daylight. 

you knew that being a pogue was important to jj – you were the only family he had – so much so that he would end a friendship over it. you knew that there was no getting through to him now, and after everything you’d heard, you didn’t want to stick around any longer. 

turning around, you bury your hands into your pockets and start to walk away, not caring about holding back the tears anymore as they slowly start to roll down your face. your vision blurring and eyes glazing over as you trudge across the overgrown grass. 

“it was wrong because we’re pogues,” jj’s voice causes you to turn back. “and being a pogue means that we stick together, but i can’t… i can’t lose anyone else, y/n. especially not you.”

confused, you take a step back in his direction, wiping away at the few tears that had fallen, “jj, i’m not going anywhere. you know that, you know -”

“-no, i’m dead serious. i’m not going to risk losing you or fucking this shit up like i do everything else. i won’t do it,” he grits his teeth, hands reaching behind his head before falling back to his sides out of frustration. “and i don’t know why everyone leaves me, but they do – maybe i’m cursed or something – but i sure as hell am not going to let that happen with you.”

“that’s not going to happen, jj.”

“you don’t…” he pauses, a pained expression on his face before it softens. “...you don’t know that.”

you could see that he was in just as much pain as you were over this, his baby-blue eyes glazing over with a mixture of fear and despair. you take another step towards him and, at first, he moves to take one back but stops when you reach for his hand. 

“do you remember what you said to me that night? about staying on the island?” he nods. "you said you'd go..."

"... wherever you are." he heaves a deep breath. 

"i meant what i said, j, and i know that you meant it too," you move closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body suffusing through him. "and i mean it when i say i'm not going anywhere."

“you promise?” he feels almost stupid for asking it, but he was craving the reassurance.

and you give it to him, “i promise.”

with delicate movements, he lifts your hands to rest against his chest, his eyes not daring to leave your gaze for even a second. he gives you a warm smile, and you smile back, the pad of his thumb rolling over your knuckles before he drops them to caress the sides of your cheeks. 

a seed of fear had awoken in your tummy, but when he raises his brows at you, you know that he was certain about what he was doing. you nod, giving him approval and he meets your lips as everything you had been holding back erupts into a long, passionate kiss. jj’s hands move to the back of your head where he pulls you in closer.

this kiss was nothing like the one you shared on the island, it was full of promise. a promise to each other, that no matter what was to happen between you both, you would never leave the other because you were pogues for life, and pogues stuck together.

[bisexualiteaa]

Getting interrupted 🤭

CW: smutty 18+! Suggestive themes, light mentions of/implied smut, getting caught, possible errors and possible OOC scenarios. Otherwise, enjoy! 🥰

John "Soap" MacTavish

- he was a sucker for someone in uniform, so it was no surprise that he would come and constantly visit you down at medical where you worked. It's how you both met and got together after all, so despite the pain and occasionally bad memories that came with it, it still held a place in his heart because you were there.

- he'd never admit it, but sometimes he would get himself hurt on purpose just to visit you, he always loved to see the smile on your face as you would shake your head and rest your hands on your hips before fixing him up perfectly, always having the cure to his every injury or ailment.

- sometimes these were the only moments where he'd get a chance alone with you, enjoying the way you'd always make a little time for him to talk and enjoy each others company for a little while afterwards.

- no one knew you guys were together, everyone knew he had a crush on you because, quite frankly, he wasn't very good at hiding it, but he didn't really want to either. But for the sake of your job, he didn't want to reveal anything should it get you in trouble.

- "you never stay out of trouble, do you?" You asked with a playful grin as you'd just finished stitching up a small gash on his arm. "If I stayed out a trouble, I'd never get the luxury t' see you" he replied with a flirty tone, making you chuckle. "Just be more careful please, I need you in one piece" you replied, kissing his cheek as you sat next to him, having just patched up his arm. "I will, don't worry your pretty head lass, I'll always come back t' you" he assured, making you smile and hum in appeasement before you leaned in, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss. His hand came to cup your cheek as you held his other one in your own, fingers intertwined as you shared in your moment together. When you two were alone together, the world finally felt at peace, no wars to think about, no stress weighing down on you, all you needed to think about was your Johnny.

- So it was no shock that your kiss took a turn to something a little deeper, a sigh leaving you as your free hand rested on his collarbone. "Careful bonnie, go on like tha' and I'll be walkin' outta here with a whole different problem" he said, making you giggle. "Wouldn't half mind fixing that either, too bad you don't know how to keep quiet" you quipped with a grin, making him laugh at your remark. "Cheeky bugger" he replied with a matching grin before pulling you in again, kissing you as if tomorrow you'd be gone.

- But sadly, even the best moments must come to an end, neither of you were expecting the way it had however.

- "Sorry to bother doc, got room to squeeze in a- woah!" Spoke Gaz as he pulled back the curtain, seeing your form loomed over the side of the exam bed, kissing his comrade. You gave a short gasp as you both jumped apart, blushing wildly after being caught red handed. "Shit, I'm SO so sorry!" You spoke, bumping into your cart in your panicked frenzy as you tried to back away and button your uniform back up as to not look suspicious, but it was already too late.

- "Sorry Gaz, appointment got prolonged. Doctors, am I right? Gotta poke around an' check everywhere for some reason" Johnny spoke, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with a slight blush but trying to joke his way out of things, as per usual. Gaz gave a chuckle. "Explains why you come down here so often. Here I thought you were just trying to get a good record built up for disability, didn't know you had a Dr. Feel Good situation goin' on" he teased with a grin. "I'm gonna get in so much trouble.." You muttered, holding your face in your hands out of embarrassment. "Relax doc, your secret's safe with me. I promise. It's about time you finally went for" Gaz assured you before offering a genuinely happy smile to Johnny. "I know all to well of the draw of the uniform myself" he added, looking towards one of the other doctors, her offering a giggle and flirty wave his way. "Well I'll be damned" Johnny spoke with a chuckle. "And looks like she's got an opening, so you two just earned yourself some more alone time" Gaz said, making you and Johnny both chuckle. "I owe ya one" Johnny spoke before Gaz walked away, turning back to you as you closed the curtain again, alotting you both some privacy for just a little bit longer.

König

- You were in his room, laying in bed together, enjoying the time alone after months of him being away.

- It started out innocent enough, just enjoying a movie together, but one innocent kiss turned to two, and when wandering hands found their way down your sides to your ass, playful giggles soon turned to quiet moans and it wasn't long before things turned just a little more heated.

- You were on top of him, straddling his lap as his kisses began littering down your neck, his large, rough hands at your hips moving you back and forth against him. A quiet moan and sigh fell from you, both of you doing your best to keep quiet as not to raise suspicions.

- "How I missed you, schatz" he told you, making you smile with drunken love in your eyes. "Missed you too, Kö" you replied sweetly, your lips now trailing down his neck to his bare chest in a way that he swore injected fire straight into his veins.

- You were topless as you sat there straddling him, indulging in one of those moments of kissing one another deeply, only stopping at the feel of each other smiling before resuming. Light, breathy giggles and quiet sighs of pleasure leaving you as you both were caught up in the heat of the moment.

- That was when you both heard the knock at the door, making you both jump. "Shit" you said quietly but in a panic. "Hide" he replied, getting up to put on a pair of pants, allowing you some time to scramble to grab your shirt and any trace you were here and hide in his bathroom, staying dead silent as you did.

- You heard the sound of him talking to Captain Price as you were hidden, relief washing over you once the door had finally closed and he walked away. You peaked back out from the bathroom, seeing König look at you as the look of panic finally fell from his face. "Close call" you spoke with a grin. "Way too close" he replied as you came back to him. "Ya know, if you just came over to my place, we wouldn't have to sneak around and worry about getting caught" you mused, making him chuckle as he leaned down. "Maybe I like the thrill a little bit" he admitted, making you giggle lightly before kissing him once more, your arms draped over his shoulders as you did.

- "Just keep it down in there" Price's voice spoke from the other side of his door, making you panic once more. "König! This is why we should be at my house!" You said, face red as a beet from fluster, and König couldnt help but grin at your embarrassment. Price gave a laugh as he walked away.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

- Everyone knew you were his, he made it very clear that he would break the neck of anyone who would dare try to have a piece of you, or even look in your direction with malintent.

- He didn't need PDA to show it either, when you both were out with his comrades, or out in public, a protective arm laid around your waist yes, but even when it didn't, all it took was one look from Simon for someone to deeply reconsider their intentions with you.

- So one night, when you were both coming out to his truck for a smoke from a night out drinking with friends, the liquid courage seeping through your veins, you decided to push his buttons a little.

- There he stood, leaned against his truck, having just finished taking drags off of his cigarette before putting it out with his foot. His balaclava was still pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose, showing off the lower half of his face, so you took the chance.

- You smiled as he grinned when your fingers slid along his jaw and up under the balaclava just a little, keeping it up so that you could kiss him. The taste of smoke, tobacco, and whiskey mixed together in a taste that was just so *him.* You couldn't help the surge of butterflies that came through you as his hands rested on your hips, the way he kissed you always left your mind reeling as they were always so intimate, so shameless.

- "Just couldn't wait, could ya?" He asked, making you chuckle as you bit your lip, your cheeks heating up from the drinks buzzing in you as well as the heat that always burned in you anytime he kissed you. "You know what bourbon does to me, and you know what *you* do to me" you replied with a playful grin, making him chuckle once more as you said it, poking his chest to prove your point before dragging your finger down some. "I'm very aware" he replied.

- Your finger looped into his belt, giving a strong tug to pull him closer to you, your lips just centimetres apart now before you closed the distance once more. "You're playing a dangerous game, lovie" he spoke in a low tone, making your grin only stretch wider. "That so? Gonna put me in my place then?" You challenged bravely, making his eyes hold a different intensity. Hunger, a predatory one at that. "Get your ass in the truck. Now" he ordered.

- Needless to say, it was no shock to him that you both managed to find your way in the back seat of his truck, music playing just loud enough in the background to add to the atmosphere as your panting from the deep kiss filled the air in the car.

- You grinned far too devilishly as you rolled your hips in time to the beat of the song, enjoying your moment of power over him. But he was there to remind you that even if you were on top and straddling him, that did not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean you were in control. His hand came to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tugged it back, making your head dip back as he did. You gave a sinful moan as he did, roughly thrusting his hips up into you. "Your misbehavin' has gotten a bit out of hand, love. Someone oughtta teach you some fuckin' manners" he damn near *growled* in response, making you whimper as his hips stilled completely. "Gonna be good f' me? Stop bein' a fuckin' brat?" He asked, making you nod your head yes vigorously, earning another yank on your hair and a powerful thrust up into you. "Answer properly" he ordered. "Yes sir, gonna be good for you, I promise!" you let out, his hand leaving your hair as he started his pace up again. "Then be a doll and take it" he spoke, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continued his brutal pace.

- Anyone on the outside wouldn't have known, the music, not too loud to be suspicious, but perfectly loud enough to cover your joint symphony of moans, pants, and grunts, paired with the sounds of skin against skin. So Soap being none the wiser, thought it'd be safe to go to Ghost's truck to tease you both for being gone for so long.

- Then a hand came to the foggy window, smearing enough of the condensation away to reveal the both of you in the back seat. What he wasn't anticipating was the sight of you on top of him, fully clothed thankfully, but it was clear what was going on. "Shit!" You exclaimed when you saw Soap's eyes widen before he looked away, knowing he'd be in deep shit for catching you both. Simon's eyes followed yours to the window, catching sight of the reason why you were hiding your face in your hands. A devious grin came to his lips, deciding to roll the window down some, not too much to show too much, but enough to send you into a panic. "Si! What the hell are you doing??" You asked, making the scot give a chuckle. "Was comin' t' check an' see if you two were still alive, but clearly you're takin' more than a smoke break" he replied. "Started off as one anyway.." You spoke with a nervous look, making him chuckle once again before turning around and walking back. "Try not to kill 'er" Soap spoke before walking back inside.

- You certainly learned your lesson that night, hiding your face that burned bright red as you left the back seat, Simon of course delighted in your torture as you both went back inside to sit back at the table, getting to take in all the knowing grins from his friends as they all teased you for the rest of the night. To Simon's standards of course, he'd never let anyone take it too far. ❤️

[crowleyholmes]

Hello friends, lovers, hereditary enemies, and fellow Good-Omens-brain-rot-afflicted!

Inspired by some lengthy conversations and the need for reassurance regarding a renewal for season 3, the lovely Eena @michaelsheens and I have decided to start a little Project!

(Sorry, Crowley, we had to…)

THE NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECIES* WEEK

Running from SEPTEMBER 25TH to OCTOBER 1ST, it’s all themed around season 3 and the assumption we’re gonna get that renewal. (Manifesting, baby.)

✨ THE PLAN ✨

Every day will focus on a theme around which everyone who wants to participate is encouraged to create any kind of content they want to! Art, fanfic, edits, playlists, speculation, meta, go nuts!

(Also please don’t worry if something doesn’t fit neatly into a day’s theme; they’re only meant to give somewhat of a prompt and structure. Ultimately it’s not that strict and serious, we just wanna see your stuff :))

✨ HOW TO PARTICIPATE ✨

Share whatever your big heart and massive brain comes up with and use the tag #gomensnaap

(It’s like a long nap or something.)

You’re also welcome to give shoutouts to other people’s work you love and want to celebrate, but please make sure to link and credit properly (!!!)

Most importantly: have fun <3

✨ THEMES ✨

(under the cut)

DAY 1: “And there will be great lamentations.”

Let’s talk the Second Coming! We start off and warm up with everything plot-related. Theories, meta, crack ideas, let’s hear your thoughts on where you think the Big Main Plot is going to go!

DAY 2: “I can make a difference!”

For day two, let’s focus on Aziraphale’s arc in season 3. Did he go to Heaven with a plan? Or is he winging it? (Pun only somewhat intended.) Was he threatened or manipulated or both or neither? Will he tell Heaven just where they can stick it or can he actually succeed? What’s in store for our favorite angel?

DAY 3: “Hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Day three is all about Crowley and what we think he’s going to get up to. Is he going to go drink himself senseless and have a good cry? Go snek and hybernate for a bit? Hang out with Muriel and do some tempting? Does he have a plan and how will he cope being on his own?

DAY 4: “There was magic abroad in the air…”

Let’s talk Ineffable Husbands! How are Crowley and Aziraphale going to resolve things between them? Will there be a massive fight? Radio silence for days/weeks/months/years? Will they learn to Actually COmmunicate? Will there be grudges, grand gestures, secret meetings, a big rescue mission from either side?

DAY 5: “Extreme sanctions.”

On day six we wanna make ourselves anxious, sad and upset. (As one does.) What thing that may or may not happen in season 3 are you most worried about? Dark/depressed/evil/etc Crowley? Memory-wiped/brain-washed/archangel Aziraphale? Book of Life? How could Neil & Co hurt us the most?

DAY 6: “Do you…want a hot chocolate?”

After day 5’s spiral, it’s time for a metaphorical treat. What are you most looking forward to in season 3? What do you really want to see? Headcanons coming true? Scenes you wish for? Things that’ll make you wanna name your cat/dog/fish/insert other pet here Neil Richard Gaiman or Sir Terence David John Pratchett?

DAY 7: “It’s starts, as it will end, with a garden.”

Finally, to finish it all up, let’s speculate about the end of season 3. How do you think we’ll leave this story? Will things just go back to how they’ve always been? Will there be peace? Earth hidden from Heaven and Hell with a big 500 Lazarii miracle? Aziraphale and Crowley turned human? Or will they get their cottage in the South Downs for the rest of eternity?

[homelanderbutbig]

There's Still A Part Of Me Here (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1912 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander is forced to be alone for one night and it's a struggle. Inspired by this ask.

When Homelander developed feelings for you, he made a promise to himself that he would never be alone again. He would never allow himself to drown in the crushing waves of solitude that plagued him from birth. As long as he had you by his side, you would be his anchor that helped him sail across the stormy oceans of his fractured mind.

That was why he couldn't believe when you informed him you'd be leaving for a family funeral… and he couldn't come too. You insisted that you would keep it as brief as possible, and while you would be gone overnight you'd return first thing in the morning. However, your attempts to quell his unease did nothing but further fuel the fire burning in the pit of his stomach.

He tried his damndest to persuade you to stay, that your family wouldn't miss your presence for a measly day, but he found himself helpless to change your decision. Although you were worried about how he could handle this, he did his best to put on a brave face for you, trying to switch from his fretful disposition just a moment ago to something 'cool and collected'. It wasn't much to fool you as you've gotten to know him well enough to see right through his façade, but he continued to reassure you that he would be fine, practically pushing you out to the elevator. He's gone through his entire life alone, and one night without you wasn't going to kill him.

And now, here he stands alone in his penthouse. It's late at night and he can't sleep, not with the soul crushing silence surrounding him. Something about the atmosphere is different than normal… empty. He finds that this feeling isn't something he can placate by turning on meaningless background noise from the television or radio. Before, he preferred the peace and quiet of his penthouse. It protected him from the irritating chatter from the rest of society and gave him the time to ruminate on his thoughts, for better or worse. But over the last few months he's been with you, he's grown accustomed to the way you've brought light into his life. It's every little thing about you… your scent, your voice, your laugh, your heartbeat. Your humanity.

It's all gone, and Homelander doesn't know how to handle it.

He's in front of the window in his living room, staring blankly into the dark sky. If he could, he'd be launching into the air to fly off and locate you. Instead he's fighting an internal battle in his brain, planted firmly in place and unable to walk over to his balcony. Before you left, the two of you agreed that he was not to come find you while you attended the funeral, lest you both be spotted together and your secret relationship be discovered. He would never risk that, and so he's left alone to dissociate.

Increasingly, the pressure builds in his chest as he is forced to grapple with his unrelenting anxieties. He tends to not experience the sensation of powerlessness, but presently he is lost in what to do. There has always been a hole in his heart, the need for unconditional love that's been purposefully kept from him. You so effortlessly fit that puzzle piece, making him feel… complete. And now that piece of him has been bloodily ripped out of his ribcage. It doesn't even matter you haven't really left him. Right now, all he comprehends is you're not here. His eyes twitch as the ringing in his ears builds in volume, until it feels like he's at the brink.

Until something has to give.

"John," a voice suddenly calls out from his bedroom, breaking him from his detached thoughts. He recognizes that voice in an instant, it's the friend who helped him through his traumas of the lab. The only companion he's ever had. His reflection.

"John, come here," the voice calls again. Like a dog with its tail tucked in between its legs Homelander cannot help but obey, and slowly saunters over to face the mirror at his bedside. He nervously rubs his hands along his wrists, knowing full well his 'friend' is not going to be a source of empathy for him.

"Look at you tiger," his counterpart berates him, shaking his head at the sorry sight. "This worked up over what, a human? This is a pathetic thing to see, pal. I thought you were better than this."

"N-no…" he mumbles faintly, tears beginning to build up in his eyes. He struggles to even look into the mirror, feeling the intense stare his 'friend' is burning straight through him.

"You're weak," his reflection scoffs. "You're a god to these mudpeople, and yet you're letting one control you so easily? Tsk tsk. You need to man up, and remove this sickness already."

"…H-how?" he asks.

"Kill them," his replica states bluntly, showing no emotion. "Fly over to their worthless little funeral, and remove the hold they have over you."

Homelander clenches his hands into fists, apprehension choking him. Hearing those words… kill them. Since you first came into his life, his 'friend' has always hated you. He'd put years of work in dragging this pitiful little boy out of the ashes to mold him into a perfect being. One that could no longer be vulnerable. But you've undone everything, whittling away his armour to break through to that… longing for affection he could never fully destroy. The way you baby him, like you actually care. Humans are incapable of concern for him; all they ever want is to hurt him, always leaving him begging for their approval.

And one way or another, he's going to make sure it's only the two of them left alive.

"This ant isn't eye-level with you, they don't even reach your fucking chest. They are not your equal. No human is," he keeps pushing, the venom saturating each word. "Was I not the one who protected you from the Bad Room? Don't things always work out when you listen to me?" he questions, waiting momentarily for Homelander to give a timid nod in response. "Then do it. Kill them. DO. IT."

His reflection continues aggressively repeating this phrase, his shouting getting louder and louder.

DO IT. DO IT. DO IT.

Shutting his eyes tight, he futilely attempts to block out the outside world. But he's already totally overwhelmed; his breathing is staggered and his face is drenched with his tears. He tries to push his 'friend' out of his mind but he can't do it. All he hears is his own voice demanding your death. Coupled with the returning ringing in his ears, it's getting to be too much for him to handle.

"John," a voice once again calls out to him, cutting through the discordant racket. However, this time it sounds unusual. It's not his voice.

It's yours.

However, he refuses to peek at the mirror, terrified of what he's going to see in front of him. He just knows his brain is playing a trick on him. He has to be, it can't really be you. He-

"It's okay baby boy. You can open your eyes," your voice says, so soothingly.

With a trembling lower lip, Homelander swallows his nerves and obeys your request. To his surprise, his 'friend' is nowhere to be seen in the mirror; your form has taken his counterpart's place, and is gazing directly at him. And not even at your regular vantage point, he doesn't have to bend down to look at you. Instead, you're magically floating up at his eye-level… like you truly are his equal.

He knows he must look absolutely pathetic to you right now, a giant of a man crying to himself in the mirror. But you don't show any contempt for him, you never do. It doesn't take much for you to prove his 'friend' wrong, the way you display nothing but pure compassion to his mental suffering.

"Having a bit of a rough time, huh?" you sympathize.

"I-I need h-help," he sniffles, nodding his head roughly. His weepy eyes are so bloodshot, so desperate for relief from his burdens. "P-please, I can't do this a-alone…"

"You aren't alone sweetie," you remind him, your voice so smooth that every word sounds like music to his ears. "There's still a part of me here. You keep it safe just for times like this. And I think it wants to help."

At first your reply confuses him, but the memories begin flooding back once you point over to the dresser on the other side of his bedroom. On your one-month anniversary, you gifted him the most precious thing he's ever received from anyone, your childhood teddy bear. When Homelander first told you about his past, he was so nervous you would use it against him, like so many have before. But of course you're nothing like those vermin. You kept his secrets close to your heart, and in turn decided to allow him to share your childhood. Something nobody has ever done for him before, just letting him be, well… human.

Rushing over to the dresser, he lifts up the top to reveal the keepsakes he's stashed away from those he's been close to over the years. And smack dab in the middle of his collection, is your brown teddy bear. He rips off his leather gloves and drops them unceremoniously to the floor as he takes the bear out of the dresser. It's so miniscule in his large hands, but his hypersensitive skin makes him feel like the small one engulfed by the plush toy. Amazingly, his stress dissipates the longer his fingers dance along the bear's well-loved fur, completely hushing the city noise around him.

He raises it up to his nose, inhaling the faint scent of you that lingers on its pelt. It's enough to wrap him in the warmth he's been urgently wishing for all night. You might not be currently with him in person, but he feels your aura surrounding him, embracing him. Protecting him.

Finally, Homelander is calm.

Stripping off his suit, he lies down in his bed, keeping the bear held against his chest. It's funny how when all else fails something so childish, a toy, can bring him down to reality so fast. How much it reminds him of you. He moves the bear to his face, resting it on his cheek as he nuzzles deeper into its fuzzy coat. Not to deprive his arms of their own comfort, he reaches for your pillow and hugs it snuggly to his chest, lightly petting it with his thumbs, like he does with your hair when he's hugging you. He lets out a deep sigh and flutters his eyes closed, letting the remaining tension drain from his body. He's lulled into sleep from a combination of his exhaustion and of the solace you've brought to his overworked senses.

By the time the morning comes and you return to the penthouse, he's got you buried in his arms, refusing to let you go for even a second. You laugh to yourself, happy to see he's at least survived the night alone, unaware of the evening's turmoil. Giving Ashley a call, you inform her that you and Homelander will both be unavailable for the rest of the day so you can catch up on some cuddle time. You know he deserves it.

[peakyltd]

Hidden Secrets

John Shelby x female reader

A/N: This is the first time ever I wrote smut because I wanted to practice, so all feedback and tips are welcome!

Warnings: Smut (18+) Minors DNI 🔞 Non protected, p in v, light dirty talk, teasing, light dom/sub, a bit rough at some point, swearing It's my first try at any kind of smut so please keep that in mind 😂

Words: 5.6k

The soft sunlight peeked trough the gaps of the curtain, waking her in the process. She felt John's bare body safely pressed against her back, his arm loosely resting on her hip and his calm, soft breathing tickling on her neck.

She carefully stretched her limbs, not wanting to wake him up until she realized she might did it anyway. A soft groan left his mouth and his arm wrapped around her body to pull her closer into his chest. A smile appeared on her face as she closed her eyes once more. She knew she had to go but his touch made her feel at home and spending a little more time in his bed, wouldn't hurt anybody. Her mind wandered back to the night before, it was one like no other and she wished it could've lasted forever.

They had met early in the evening at their usual spot, far enough from anyone to see them. He was waiting for her with a cigar in his mouth, leaning against the wall, surprising her with her favorite wine. They shared a few, quick kisses before they went on their way to their favorite place. A place were they knew they would be alone. It was peaceful, surrounded by trees and the flooding water of the small stream nearby was the only thing that could be heard.

"What did you tell your parents this time?" John wondered as he removed his coat and cap before he sat down in the grass next to her. "I said I was going to spend the night at a friends house. They didn't question it further." She answered while watching John, who opened the bottle of wine.

He turned to look at her, a grin on his face. "They didn't question it because in their eyes you're such an angel." He chuckled. "If they'd found out you sneak off with me, you'd never set a foot outside ever again." A giggle escaped her mouth. "Well, I should keep up the angel attitude then, I wouldn't want to miss out on spending time with you." John smirked as he put the bottle down, making sure it didn't fell over before leaning back on his hands to look at her. "Nothin' to keep up if you are one already." He leant closer to her face and kissed her softly.

She didn't necessarily wanted to hide their relationship but they had no other choice than to see each other in secret. Both their families weren't fond of each other and her parents would never accept it if she told them that she was dating a 'Shelby', as they liked to call them. John's family wouldn't approve it either, however John didn't care much about it. It made her feel quite hopeful for the future.Their future. She didn't know what it would look like just yet but it didn't matter, as long as it was together with John.

She felt a jolt deep in the pit of her stomach as he pulled away and met with his steel blue eyes. She couldn't help but stare. The worries about someone finding out they were seeing each other faded the longer she held his gaze. Her hand rested on the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. One of his hands rested on her waist as he deepened the kiss, gently nibbling on her bottom lip before he felt her lips part, granting him access. He pulled her closer while their tongues explored each other, gentle but demanding. Her breath quickened as she let her other hand rest on his chest. His hand ran over her body, bringing goosebumps to her skin. A soft moan escaped her mouth as she felt herself melt into him.

A sudden emptiness replaced his warm touch when he pulled away, leaving her wanting more. He moved down to her neck, soft kisses were left all over while his hand slid down to her thigh. His fingers ran over her covered skin while the kisses on her neck turned into gentle sucking. Her hand rested on his shoulder while the other ran trough his hair. "John..." A whimper left her lips, begging for more. The corners of his lips turned into a cheeky smirk before pulling away, pressing a firm kiss on her lips. "What is it, love?" He looked at her, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen, a sight he could never get enough of. "Did that do somethin' to you?"

She playfully pushed his chest as a smirk played onto her lips. "Shut up." A chuckle erupted from his mouth. "Let's just say this was a little preview for tonight." He grinned as he pecked her lips once more. "Really? Not much to expect then." John shook his head as he laid down in the grass, pulling her with him. A squeal left her lips. "Not much to expect? What did I just hear then, eh?" He smirked. "John..." He imitated her moan as she started laughing. "Please, you're so full of yourself." She chuckled as she sat up and placed her legs on each side of his waist to straddle him. "You know that what you're doing is kind of dangerous?" He questioned while looking up at her, his hand finding their way to her hips. "What do you mean?" She moved her hips carefully, grinding gently against his. "(Y/N) I swear to god, if you don't fucking stop-"

"Then fucking what?" Her voice sounded innocent but her smug smirk told him otherwise. John grinned as he tightened his grip on her hips. "I'm just saying that you have to walk all the way home with me tonight and that might become a little harder once I'm done with you."

A fluttering feeling took over her as she thought of the things he would do and had already done before. She licked her lips while looking down at him. "Doesn't sound too bad." She challenged, leaning over him as she pressed her lips against his, her hips moving against his. His hand moved to her butt, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't challenge me." He mumbled against her lips as he sat up slightly. "I'm not." Her voice came out as a whisper as she stared directly in his eyes, before he had the chance to kiss her again, she crawled off of him.

"Would you like a little bit of wine to cool off, love?" She exaggerated the little pet name as she lifted the bottle of wine, a big grin on her face. John sat up, shaking his head. "I can't fuckin' believe you." He referred to her teasing. She giggled as she took a little sip. "I learned it from you, I guess." She batted her eyelashes innocently at him. A smirk tugged on his lips. "Give that 'ere." He demanded as he took the bottle from her and took a sip himself. "If people only knew what you were really like." He teased while his grin only grew bigger.

"As if you mind." She countered, raising her eyebrow. A smile on her face. "Oh no. Not at all." He grabbed her jaw between his fingers and kissed her softly. His other hand ran down her body, his fingers grazing her breasts. When he felt her leaning closer, he pulled away. "Ah I'm sorry, love. Not yet." The grin that had left his face for only mere seconds, had returned on his face. An annoyed sigh left her lips as she watched him lay back down in the grass, chuckling. He patted the spot next to him and opened his arms. "Come 'ere."

She moved over and laid down next to him, her head resting on his chest as he stroked her back. "The things you do to me John Shelby." She sighed jokingly. "And I'm not even done yet." He chuckled before kissing the top of her head. She giggled as her arm draped lazily over his abdomen. A comfortable silence fell over them as she listened to the calm beating of his heart. John's fingers gently drew circles on her skin as he looked up at the sky where stars were visible. "For how much longer do you want to keep us a secret?" He wondered, as he moved his hand up to her hair, running his fingers carefully trough it.

"It's not that I want to keep us a secret so bad." She started. "Although I must admit that it's very exciting." A smirk appeared on John's face. "I agree."

"But you know it's quite a... thing with my family. Our families." She continued her sentence. "But let's be honest, darling." John retorted, still stroking her hair. "Who fucking cares." His blunt answer made her giggle. "Well, maybe you have a point there." She moved to rest her head on his shoulder. "It's our life, not theirs." He stated as he looked at her. "I know." His words gave her something to think of. There was no one who could tell her what or what not to do but she also knew that her family wouldn't take it the right way. Maybe they should keep it a secret, just a little longer.

A few hours flew by while they watched the stars and laid in each other's arms. Many thoughts where shared, followed by even more banter. John reached for his pocket watch to check the time. "We can go to mine if you'd like?" He offered while he turned to look at her. "Are you sure Arthur is back from the Garrison? I don't want to repeat what happened the last time." She chuckled. He checked his watch again. "He must be. I mean it's late, even for Arthur."

"Then let's go." She pressed his lips against his before she got up. "I still remember that face of yours." John laughed as he got up. "I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest." She chuckled as she thought of the time Arthur almost caught her and John when they sneaked into the family house. John pushed her behind the curtains that hang in front of the doors to the betting shop while he tried to distract his brother.

She grabbed the, now empty, bottle of wine and watched John put on his cap. He took his coat and hung it over her shoulders. "We don't want you to get cold, do we?" He winked while taking her hand. A beaming smile broke onto her face. "Thank you."

"I'll replace it back home with myself again." He cheekily stated as he kissed her cheek. "I can't wait." She giggled, squeezing his hand softly. Ready to go home.

Before they entered the streets of Small Heath she let go of his hand. As she was about to take off his coat, she saw him giving her a confused look. "In case anyone sees us." She explained while he adjusted the coat on her shoulders. "It's midnight, no one will see us."

"You know how people are. They will talk." She looked up to him, trying to get her point across. "Let them talk." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, earning a sigh from her. "Come on, love. We're almost there." He encouraged her, a hint of sass in his voice. "I don't have much choice, do I?" She sighed, rolling her eyes playfully at him. "You don't." He gently pressured her forwards, walking her to his home.

Once they arrived, they made their way to the back of the house trough the dark alley. John looked up to see if he could see any lights that gave away that someone was awake still. When there wasn't, he carefully opened the back door and made his way inside. While he ushered her in and tried to close the door, it made a loud creaking sound. "Fucking hell." He whispered under his breath while locking it. When he turned around, he found her big eyes looking up at him. "It's fine, love." He assured her as he took her hand.

He lead the way trough the house to the stairs and carefully climbed up with her behind him. The stairs were far from silent but they eventually made it to his bedroom without getting caught. As John closed the door, a sigh left her mouth. He chuckled at the sight of her. "Quite nervous, weren't you?" She let his coat slide off her shoulders. "Oh please, don't get me started." She whispered, knowing how thin the walls were.

He took the coat from her and hung it over the chair that stood in his room. He put his cap on his nightstand before removing his suit jacket and vest, leaving him in only his undershirt. The suspenders resting on his shoulders. Her eyes ran over his body, eager to replace her stare with her hands soon. When she looked up at him, she found him grinning at her. "Like what you see?"

"You know I do." She smiled at him, feeling her pulse increasing. "Come and get it then." He smiled, taking her hand and pulling her close, holding her in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, his loving gaze looking back down at her as his smile grew wider. She felt her stomach flutter when he leaned in before he gently connected his lips with hers. Her eyes fluttered close, hands finding their way to his cheeks as she deepened the kiss. John's hands slid down her body, eventually resting on her butt.

She felt his tongue slowly graze over her lips, asking for access which she happily granted him. He started gentle while his fingers dug into her skin. A soft moan left her mouth and her hands slid down his chest, feeling his muscles tense under her touch. She gripped onto his shirt as he softly sucked on her bottom lip, a soft groan leaving his mouth. She needed more and and she didn't want to waste any time. Her lips greedily moved against his until he suddenly broke their kiss. She looked up at him, panting slightly. "What's wrong?" She breathed out. Their lips almost touched and he could feel her breath onto his skin. His eyes scanned her face before his lips turned into a smile. A soft whisper reached her ears. "I love you." His words made her heart beat faster. "I love you too, John." She beamed.

He looked down at her lips, as he took a moment before crashing his lips on hers. His hands ran hungrily over her body while her hands desperately tried to open the buttons of his shirt. Her lips left his, only to attack his throat with open mouth kisses. She grazed his skin with her tongue before sucking softly, earning a low moan from him.

John had opened her dress and pulled it over head, leaving her in only her panties. He licked his lips before he tipped her chin up to make her look at him. "Where's your bra, eh?" The smirk on his face grew, his eyes twinkling. "Should've told me that out in the field." She grinned at him, her hand tugging on the hem of his pants to pull him closer. "I hoped you'd notice it then and there but who am I to spoil the fun?" She teased. He shook his head, the smirk still evident on his face. "You're driving me fuckin' crazy."

Just as he wanted to kiss her again, she grabbed his suspenders and walked backwards to his bed, pulling him with her. John gladly followed her. When the back of her knees hit the bed, he gently pushed her onto it. He crawled on top of her and started kissing her neck, his hands roaming over her body. His teeth grazed along her skin, sucking on her soft spot. She could feel his bulge against her core, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to keep herself from moaning. He made his way down to her breasts, his hand grabbing onto them while his tongue swirled around one of her sensitive nipples. A gasp came from her mouth while her hand rested on the back of his neck. He sucked softly as his hand gently slid down between her legs, his fingers brushed over her still clothed core while putting gentle pressure on her clit.

The sensations were sending pleasure trough her body and a loud moan escaped her mouth. "Ssh, love. Be quiet." John's sparkling blue eyes met hers, he moved up to kiss her while he softly rubbed his finger in circles. She whimpered softly while she tried to keep quiet. "I know you can do it." He smirked against her lips. "Wouldn't want anyone to walk in, do we?" She shook her head as she grabbed onto his suspenders again. "No. Please keep going." She begged as she pulled him back in for a kiss. His fingers slid into her panties, rubbing them over her pussy, causing her to move her hips, in need of the friction he provided her before. His fingers moved back to where she needed them the most, applying more pressure and moving them a bit faster. Her hands ran over his back while he kissed down her neck. "Fuck..." A breathy whisper confirmed that John was doing the right thing.

He ran his finger up and down her slit, while he kissed down to her breasts. She ran her hand trough his hair while her mouth was slightly agape. His hand and mouth left her body as he sat up to take her panties off, her curious eyes looking up at him. "You're still wearing too many clothes Mr. Shelby." She smirked as he hovered over her again, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Guess you have to help me get rid of 'em then." He grinned. Her hands grasped the suspenders and pulled them off his shoulders, the already opened shirt found its way to the floor not long after. She left kisses over his chest while her fingers opened his pants.

His fingers found their way back to her clit, continuing his previous movements before inserting one of them, pumping it in and out. His thumb now pleasuring her clit. Her body tensed from the sensations and her hand grabbed onto his arm. Quiet moans echoed trough the room. "Oh god."

"Fuckin' hell, love." John licked his lips as he watched her body react to him. "I fucking need you." She breathed out, her grip on his arm tightening as he put more pressure on her clit. "John..."

"Patience, darling. Patience." He smirked, loving how much effect the teasing had on her, however, he was slowly losing his own patience. He added another finger, curling them inside her. Her other hand grabbed onto his sheets, trying to distract herself from making any sound. She felt her muscles tense up as a knot started form in stomach. "Don't stop... please." She breathed out, her chest heaving up and down. John leaned his face close tho hers while quickening his movements. Whimpers left her mouth as the pleasure took over her body. He kissed her, his fingers still working to bring her to her high. He felt her legs tense up and her nails digging into his arm. She arched her back, her body convulsing as her climax washed over her. Her moans were muffled by John's lips. "Oh f-fuck."

Her heart was pounding as she tried to catch her breath. "Such a good girl, aren't you?" He smiled at her while he pressed some loving kisses against her jaw. She wrapped her arms lazily around his neck, still coming down from the rush, while she enjoyed his the contact of his lips on her skin. "You make me one." She giggled softly. He chuckled while he stroked her hair. She let go of him and pushed gently against his chest, telling him to move. He got off of her and stood next to the bed, an excited look in his eyes. She looked at him trough her lashes, her hands moving over her breasts as her fingers circled around her nipples. "Take off those trousers, darling." John licked his lips as he obeyed, his eyes focused on her. "For fucks sake, (Y/N)."

"What?" She innocently asked. "Don't even ask." He walked over to her but she stopped him with her foot and reached out for his hand. He took it and pulled her up when she lowered her leg again. "Are you getting a little frustrated?" Her fingers ran over his still covered, hard member. "C'mon, love. I know you want it too." He whined, eagerly waiting for her touch. "Oh I do." She hooked her fingers on the hem of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his cock. A soft groan came from John's mouth as his hands grabbed her waist. "I'll fuck you so good, darling." He tried to move her back to the bed but she had other plans. Her hands grabbed his upper arms and gently forced him back. "Sit down."

"(Y/N), cmon." He growled as he sat on the bed. She climbed in his lap, straddling him, before her hand wrapped around his shaft. John gasped at the sudden touch, his hands resting on her hips. "Patience, darling. Patience." She repeated his exact same words as her fingers slightly ran over his tip, a smirk on her face. She knew the teasing would rile him up even more. She rested her head on his shoulder as she kept going, slowly moving her hand up and down his shaft. "I want you to fuck me John. I fucking need you." She whispered in his ear as she felt his hands tightening his grip onto her hips. "Are you that needy, honey?" She purred into his ear as she sucked gently on his earlobe, her hand still working on his cock.

A soft, low moan fell from his lips. "I'm not fucking begging for you, honey." He stated. "Oh, you already did." She smirked, rolling her hips against his, biting her lip as she looked at him while moving her hand up and down faster. His eyes were blazing full of his lust. "Alright, enough."

"John, no-" A squeal left her mouth as he lifted her, he stood up and laid roughly back on the bed. She giggled when crawled on top of her. "What did I say before?" John questioned, a grin on his face. "That I have to be quiet." She answered, her nails running over the skin of his chest. "What did I just hear?"

"I'm trying my best. I promise." She batted her eyelashes at him while her other hand found his cock again, a soft gasp leaving his mouth. "I guess I have to make it even harder for you."

"I can't fucking wait." She smirked, letting go of his cock while she spread her legs for him, giving him the opportunity to line himself up with her entrance. She looked up at him, her lips slightly agape before she pulled his face down to hers, her lips grazing his. "Fuck me."

The corners of his lips turned into a smirk. "Keep quiet." He slowly sunk himself into her waiting heat, a low groan escaping his lips. "Fuck." The feeling of his cock stretching her, made her gasp. While she adjusted to him, he thrusted slowly into her, watching her as a soft whimper left her mouth.

"I fuckin' missed you." He mumbled against her lips, soon turning into a hungrily, messy kiss full of tongue and clashing teeth. A sign for him to pick up his pace. Her hands ran over his broad shoulders, while she tried to keep the volume of her desperate moans down. One of his hands reached down to her leg to lift it up against his hip so he was able to sink into her even deeper. The sound of his moans filled the room at the feeling of her velvet walls clinging onto him.

"Faster..." She breathed out. A smirk tugged on his lips. "Excuse me?" One of his hands moved up to her face to grab her jaw gently between his fingers. "What did you say?" She bit her lip to restrain herself from moaning. " Faster, please..." She begged. "Please." He loved when she was so desperate for him, those juicy lips of hers begging him to give her more. While his hips rolled faster against hers, he hit the perfect spot that made her moan out loud, her hands ran down to his back where her nails dug into his skin. The sounds of their skin slapping against each other rang in his ears as he watched her throw her head back while another loud moan left her mouth. He quickly tried to cover her mouth with his hand but realised the damage was already done.

A loud tud came from the other side of the wall, followed by shouts. "JOHN! FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Tommy's loud voice boomed trough the house. (Y/N)'s widened eyes met his as John stopped moving and he calmly shook his head. "Don't worry, darlin'. He's all talk." He whispered softly, a grin on his lips. "Nothing to worry about."

Her hands ran down his biceps. "But what if he-" John cut her off with a loving kiss, their lips devouring each other. "There's only one thing you have to worry about." He mumbled against her lips. "And that's me." He smirked before leaving open mouth kisses down her throat. "Understood?"

She nodded, her fingers running trough his hair. "Yes." She felt his mouth kissing down her chest, finding her nipple again. His tongue twisted in circles around the sensitive bud, his eyes looking up to her. She licked her lips as she kept his gaze, ready for him to finish what he started. She slowly moved her hips against his, desperate for the delicious friction he was providing her moments ago. John smirked, his hand moved between her legs to find her clit, rubbing it slowly with such a light touch that it only frustrated her more. "Eager, are we?" She grabbed his wrist, trying to add more pressure. "I know you need it too."

"I don't know what you mean." He continued. Her hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him down close to her face. "You know exactly what I mean John. I want you to fuck me hard, like you fucking promised." His mouth hung slightly open at her words, soon turning into a smirk as his hands grabbed onto her waist. "Where are those words coming from, angel?"

"I'm just hoping that you're not all talk either." She challenged. He shook his head in amusement. "I think you should talk less." He slowly pulled out, leaving her feeling empty. Her eyes filled with curiosity, eagerly waiting to see what he had in mind. "On your knees." She happily obeyed while she lowered her upper body. He spread her legs a bit more before slamming into her without a warning. A desperate moan escaped from her lips while John pounded into her. Her fingers grabbed the sheets tightly, the sensations taking over her body.

John took ahold of her hips, his fingers digging into her skin while he listened to her whimpers of pleasure as if it were the melodies of his favorite song. She buried her face in the pillow, muffling her moans while John kept pounding into her with a quick and strong pace. "Nah, darling. C'mere." He put her arms behind her back and pulled her upper body against his chest, wrapping one arm across her body to hold her while the other found her swollen clit again. He felt her walls clench around him, signaling that she was close.

His head rested on her shoulder and his moans filled her ears, his chest pressed tightly against her back, her hands tightly grabbing onto his arm. She couldn't keep herself from moaning anymore as she felt her climax coming. "John... p-please." She panted. "I'm so close."

He covered her mouth with his hand, pulling her back to let the back of her head rest against his shoulder. He sucked softly on the skin of her neck, close to her ear. "Cum for me, love." He encouraged. The pounding turned into long, hard strokes, hitting her spot every time, while he gently rubbed her clit. The moans of pleasure died down against his hand. She felt the muscles in her body all tense at once and her legs started shaking, her breath turning into short gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut as her orgasm made her lose control over her body. A loud cry of release was muffled by John's hand as he slowly fucked her trough her climax.

If it wasn't for John to hold her up by his strong arms, she would've collapsed on the bed as she came down from her high. Her hair stuck to her face, turned into a panting mess by her lover. She felt John's trusts starting to become messier, knowing that he was close. "F-fuck. Turn around, I want to come in your mouth." He grunted into her ear, pulling out and leaving her empty. She turned to face him, her mouth close to his length, tongue out while he stroked his shaft. She watched how his body stiffened. His head fell back, moans echoing trough the bedroom as he released his load into her mouth, the white liquid spilling all over her tongue followed by another groan. "Fuck."

He looked down at her, finding her looking up at him, her mouth covered by his cum, a sight he'd never get tired of. A grin formed on his face as he grabbed her chin between his fingers. "Swallow it for me." She gladly obeyed, licking her lips after. His thumb wiped away the remaining from he corner of her mouth, swiping it over her lips before she took his thumb in her mouth, slowly sucking it clean.

He licked his lips as he watched her, still trying to catch his breath, he slowly pulled himself from her and lifted her up, pressing his swollen lips against hers. "I fuckin' love you." He mumbled against her lips, his hands running over her back. She smiled at his words, kissing him again while her hands ran over his chest. "I love you too."

He turned to lay down, pulling her with him as his mouth attacked every single inch of her bare skin with kisses. His strong arms wrapped around her waist as he scooted her closer, her arms finding their way around his warm, comforting body. While they both slowly got back to their senses, it didn't take them long before they drifted away into a peaceful slumber in each others arms.

"(Y/N)." His soft voice sounded hoarse, his fingers running over her bare hip. "Are you awake?" He kissed her jaw softly. She opened her eyes, realizing she fell back asleep while thinking about their eventful night. "I- Yeah." Her voice was a bit croaky from sleeping. "I fell asleep again." She admitted as she turned around to face him. "What time is it?"

John turned slightly and reached for his nightstand, his fingers searching for his pocket watch. "Ah fuck, where is it." He mumbled as he turned his body a bit more. "I think it's on the floor, along with everyone else." She giggled softly, kissing his shoulder. He turned back, a smile on his face. "You might be right." His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin before connecting their lips in a gentle but firm kiss. Her fingers ran trough the shorn sides of his hair, deepening the kiss in the process.

"John!" The force of the footsteps that came up the stairs made the wooden steps creak. "John! We're fuckin' waiting for you!" The loud familiar voice boomed trough the house. (Y/N) quickly pulled away from him, looking frantically where to hide but there was no hiding spot to find in his small room. He looked into her eyes who were filled with fear. "Easy, easy." He quickly pulled the covers from both of them, covering her completely and blocking her with his own body. He wouldn't dare to tell her but it was the worst hiding spot he'd ever seen, at least nobody could've had a clue who was underneath it.

The door of his room was torn open, an angry Tommy barging in, his eyes falling on his bare younger brother. "Oh for fucks sake." He turned around to face the wall. "Get the fuck out." John barked at him, trying to cover himself a bit with one of the garments he fished of the floor. "We're fucking late, get ready." Tommy moved back to the door. "Late for what? You didn't tell me shit." He argued, earning an annoyed sigh for Tommy. "Doesn't matter. Get dressed, tell the girl to go and come fucking outside." The last words were barely audible as the door slammed shut.

"Is he gone?" A soft voice came from under the covers. "Yes." He chuckled softly as he pulled them down, revealing her flushed face. "He's gone." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "My heart is beating like crazy." She admitted, both chuckling at her words, realising the situation she got herself into. "But seriously, how do I get out of her without getting seen?" John sat up, his back resting against his bed frame. "Well aren't you lucky you ended up in a Shelby's bed, I can teach you a thing or two." He jokingly bragged. She rolled her eyes but a smile tugged on her lips. "You're so full of yourself."

Tag list: @kissforvoid

[mrsparrasblog]

I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

[sarahsmi13s]

Just a Little Guidance

whumptober day 6: forced to hurt someone

pairing: tim bradford x reader (oc last name: blake)

characters: tim bradford, y/n blake, zoe andersen, jackson west, john nolan, lucy chen, thane riggs (oc villain)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, blood, fighting, stabbing, mentions of SA, being held captive, forced to hurt someone, forced to hurt partner, crying, quitting, if i missed anything please please please let me know

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary:

You stood in front of Captain Andersen’s desk, hands shaking as you listened to her tell you about everything that would need to happen before you could return to duty. 

Tonguing your split lip, you shook your head. Tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at your trembling, still blood stained, hands as your shield and gun rested in them

How could they let you back to work after everything that happened? Tim was still in the hospital, you got to leave after just a few days. But what you saw, what you and Tim experienced over those two weeks… you couldn’t trust yourself.

“I-I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t,” you said softly, your bruised and busted hands curling around the items in your them.

She tilted her head, “I’m not sure I understand.” 

You sat your shield and gun on her desk, “I’m not coming back… I’m sorry… but I quit.”

Zoe nodded, giving you a sympathetic look as you avoided her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” You shook your head before she was even finished. “No, I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t. I’m quitting, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and left.

You sat curled up in the hospital chair, just staring at Tim’s unconscious form laying there in the bed.

There were words stuck in your throat. It was like they were coming up sideways, choking you before coming up in broken fragments on your tongue.

What the hell could you say? Tim was laying in a hospital bed because of you. You had put him there. An apology just wouldn’t make that go away. Make what you did go away.

You sat in the uncomfortable chair, picking scabs and prodding at bruises as your mind replayed everything. Never giving you a chance to rest or forget what you did.

“I’m sorry, Tim… I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, looking down at your blood covered hands. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Tim winced at the way your hands tried to patch him up from the wounds you had put there that day. “You’re doing this to protect yourself and for us to survive. I’m not mad.” 

You shook your head, “I should be stronger than this…” 

“Thane is a fucking psycho, do not put this blame on yourself,” he grunted as he sat up. “Hey, look at me.” You sniffled and looked up, “I’m hurting you, Tim. I shouldn’t hurt you, under any circumstance… even this. I should have let him–”“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that.” 

“You were ready to take a bullet for me!”

“Because you don’t deserve to die!”“And you do?!”

You panted a little, “I shouldn’t be hurting you… I don’t want to hurt you.” He grabbed your hand, not caring about his own blood slicking up his hand. “I know that, and I can handle it. They’re coming, I know they are. I can hold out until then.” 

“But what if I can’t?”

After that conversation it was eerie silence as you both tried to sleep.

It was hard for you to fall asleep. The copper scent of Tim’s blood on your hands made you sick to your stomach . The substance was sticky and drying to your skin. Thane wasn’t allowing you to wash your hands, letting Tim’s blood dry on your hands in layers.

And when you woke up the next day it was your turn.

You were simply a punching bag. Though Thane would call it a ‘boxing match’. If you won, the next day you wouldn’t have to hurt Tim and you both got a decent meal with fresh water.

But you couldn’t win. 

You had gotten close the first few times. But Thane was an ex-Navy SEAL so he could take you down like it was nothing. And as time went on, you got weak. You didn’t have the energy to put up a decent fight and even give yourself hope. The only reason you still attempted was to keep Tim safe.

That night you sat on the floor with your head down and an arm clutching your side as your ribs ached. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Tim grunted as he turned to look at you, “Why are you sorry?” You sniffled, “I can’t win…” “You’re not supposed to win. He just likes to give you hope…” 

“I can’t keep doing this Timmy… hurting you, I can’t…” 

“If you don’t-”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to kill you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond and just got in your bed and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Thane woke you up with gentle caresses on your face.

“Time to wake up,” he said gently, pulling you up and to your feet. “C’mon we have a big day ahead of us.” 

You whimpered as he pulled you over to a table, gun pressed to your lower back. “Pick your first weapon.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, “No.” 

Thane growled and pulled harshly on your hair, making you look up at him. “You pick or I do, I won’t tell you again.” The gun digs into your back, “And you won’t like what I pick.”

You gritted your teeth as he pulled your hair harder, “I’m done playing your game. Shoot me.”

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Tim said, but his words were breathy. “I-I can take it.” 

“You hear that? He can take it,” Thane smirked before kissing your forehead. “Pick up the knife.”

“I said, no.”

He growled before slamming your face down on the table.

Tim looked away, jaw clenched as you cried out a little. You don’t blame him, you’d look away too. 

This position hadn’t been unfamiliar. 

Often after those boxing matches, Thane would use your weak state to release other frustrations. 

So you just closed your eyes and braced yourself.

“Oh look at you,” he cooed, his hand rubbing your back. “Mmmm you’ve learned. But right now isn’t about us. It’s about you and Tim. So pick up the knife or I will fuck you as you look your boyfriend in the eyes. Pick. It. Up.”

“Pick up the knife, Y/N…”

“Okay! Okay…”

Thane smirked and pulled you back up to stand. “Good girl.”

Your hand shook as you wrapped your fingers around the blade’s handle. The thought of turning and plunging it into your capture’s stomach flashed in your mind but you knew better. You weren’t fast enough and his trigger finger was quick.

Eyes filling with tears, Thane guided you forward.

“Stab him.”

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to face him. “W-what?”

“You heard me, stab him.”

“That wasn’t-”

“Do it or I'll shoot him in the head.”

You closed your eyes, sobbing as your hands shook violently. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay,” Tim reassured, kissing the top of your head.

But you didn’t believe him.

When it was just cuts or burns, it was easier to believe that he would be okay. But you could see that he was weak. He was shaking from blood loss and he could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was tired and breathy so he desperately tried to put authority in it.

But it wasn’t working.

You shook your head, crying openly as you brought up the knife.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as you found a spot on his torso and pushed the tip of the blade in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whispered tearfully, pulling the knife back out. 

You watch horrified as blood leaks out of the new wound and down his side. You had hurt him, again. It made you feel sick.

Suddenly, Thane’s right in your ear, his eyes on the bare half inch of blood on the blade.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t waste my time,” he growled. He wrapped his arms around you and put his hands on top of yours. 

“No, no please,” you begged through your tears, trying to fight him.

But your resistance was used in Thane’s favor as he used your combined force to plunge the knife into Tim’s stomach.

You gasped, feeling the sickening warm feeling of fresh blood coating your hands.

Tim couldn't hold back his shout of agony, gritting his teeth as tears came to his eyes. 

Thane leaned in, laughing in your ear as you sobbed, “Look at that, seems like all you needed was just a little guidance.” 

You covered your mouth, smearing blood on your face as your eyes stayed unmoving from the knife handle. You could have collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap if Thane hadn’t had arms around you.

“Ooooh not so fast there Y/N. One’s not going to cut it, sweetheart. Take it out and do it again.”

When you hesitated, Thane took your hands and wrapped them around the handle, “Take it-”

“LAPD DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

You sobbed in relief as Thane turned to who you recognized to be John Nolan, Bishop’s rookie.

“Put your weapon down and kick it over to me.” 

Thane followed his instructions, smart enough to know that he was cornered. 

You held Tim’s face, “It’s gonna be okay baby. They’re here, just like you said they would be.”

Tim had been unconscious when you said that, finally succumbing to the pain.

“Officer Blake?”

You jumped at the call of your name, being pulled from your memories as you looked up to see the three rookies. Jackson was the one to address you.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore Officer West…”

He nodded and swallowed, “Right we’re out of uni-”

“No, I quit… I’m not an officer anymore.”

The rookies’ eyes widened and they shared a look when your eyes moved to Tim.

“But you’re great at your-” 

You cut John off, bitterness in your tone, “If I was good at my job he wouldn’t be in this bed…”

You took a breath, finally letting yourself touch him and grabbing Tim’s hand. “I should have been stronger…”

“Thane’s a psychopath, who knows what situation we would be in had you held out longer,” Lucy tried, watching your glass eyes as they looked over Tim. “That doesn’t make you a bad cop…”

“I don’t trust myself… and being a good team requires trust. I can’t go back out onto the street if I do not trust myself, that’s how people get hurt.”

You shook your head, letting it fall between your shoulders. “It took just a little guidance and I plunged a knife into the man I love…”

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