#why the big gulp john

[starfleet-lol]

so this is genuinely actually how my dual enrollment english teacher is

i hate him

Under communism the wait staff will not ask if Pepsi is okay. You will not even find out that's its Pepsi instead of coke until you take your first sip. Unless you train like me, to know the difference from the sound of the Fizz alone, that is the only way we can beat communism and I can teach you. Take my hand. Not like that you grabbed it gay. Stop. Giggles. I SAID STOP

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi hi!!

Okay so I was thinking what about a task 141 + big man konig with a reader that likes to slap their ass cheekily or just plain ass grab them,any time is fair game,the boys are all in the barracks or in a meeting room? Better line up. 😂

Only if you're comfy ofc!!

Aha! This is perfect, lol. Hope this does what you were looking for justice😊 did a little twist as the reader doing it for the first time.

Warnings: sexual references, mild swearing

141 + König x GN Reader When You Slap/Grab Their Ass Playfully.

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

You'd seen videos circling the internet of people slapping their partners asses randomly to see their reactions, and you wanted to try it on Simon. While you were mildly terrified of what his reaction would be, you decided you still wanted to go with it.

The two of you were cleaning up after a home cooked meal, and you knew now was the time to strike. He was wearing a tight-fitting pair of sweats, and his ass looked just too good not to hit.

You sauntered up to him with a smile and gave his ass a loud "SMACK".

He set the dish he was holding down in the sink before turning head slowly to look at you, a dark look crossing his face.

You gulped at the look on his face before backing away. "I-I had to. I'm sorry."

"Had to?" He asked, and you nodded meekly in response.

"Or wanted to?" A smirk started to form on his lips.

".....both?" You mumbled sheepishly.

"That so?" The smirk lining his face was terrifying to you. He moved closer to you, effectively trapping you against the counter. "Why don't you head on upstairs, yeah? I'll up in a few. "

It seemed Simon, too, enjoyed smacking your ass, as evident from the large red handprint that was left on your ass cheek later that night.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish-

You and Johnny had a little bet going on who out of the two of you would be the first to crack without sex. Johnny had said he'd be able to last longer, and you desperately wanted to prove him wrong.

It started out simple enough, soft arm touches, thigh squeezes, "subtly" grinding yourself against his crotch. Nothing seemed to be cracking him, to your surprise.

Determined to win, you had one final card up your sleeve. Johnny was out working on his car, minding his own business. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find the sight incredibly attractive.

He was bent over, wearing a tight muscle T-shirt and tight workout shorts. You bit your lip in anticipation and walked over to carry out your plan.

"Hey baby. Looking good out here." You cooed as you walked up behind him.

As he peered around to look at you, you slid your hands down his waist until you reached his bum and squeezed the flesh there firmly before smoothing your hands up and down.

"I uhhhh, fucking hell Y/N." Johnny shook his head and moved away from your wandering hands. "Nope not falling for it. Nope."

You moved closer to him once more and gave his ass a harsh smack, before walking away.

Johnny set the tools he was working with down and came over to you, throwing you over his shoulder as he made his way to the bedroom.

Needless to say, he lost your bet, but not that you or he were complaining.

John Price-

John was giving a debrief to 141 in the conference room, and you couldn't help but let your eyes drift to his backside. He was walking back and forth while talking, giving you a perfect side view of his ass.

You turned to look at the boys and saw not a single one of them were paying attention, as they were probably all beyond exhausted.

Deciding to have some fun, you peered one more time to make sure you didn't have an audience and waited until John made his way past you before you made your move. He started to make his way past you, and when he came within arms reach, you slapped his ass.

Truly, you hadn't meant for the smack to be as loud as it was. You appeared to have misjudged the pressure, as everyone in the room, including Price, stopped and stared at you.

Rather than being embarrassed about it, you smiled widely and settled back into your seat as if nothing had happened, ignoring the looks of horror from the boys.

"Y/N, a word, outside if you will?" Price said sternly as he promptly forced you up and escorted you out of the room.

The minute the two of you made it outside, he pushed you up against the wall with a loose grip around your neck. "Thought that was funny did you?"

"I couldn't help myself, sir." You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as Price dragged his eyes up and down your figure.

"Couldn't help yourself? You won't be laughing later. I'll guarantee you of that."

Price kept to his word later that night. You surely weren't laughing as he took you from behind, slapping your ass repeatedly as you took exactly what he wanted to give you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

141 was getting ready to be sent out on a mission, and the 5 of you were getting on your gear. You could feel your nerves bubbling in your belly in anticipation of the mission.

Looking over, you saw Gaz putting on his gear, particularly the band around his thigh for his knife. You couldn't really say why you wanted to slap his ass, but unable to help yourself, you walked over to him, giving a resounding smack to his ass.

Shocked, Gaz turned to you with wide eyes before looking around to make sure nobody had seen what you just did. "Babe?"

You gave him a small smile before returning to your gear. Feeling Gaz walk up behind you, you looked to him. "What's up, love?"

"I think you know what's up. What was that for?" He asked.

"Just a good luck smack, that's all." You put both hands up in mock innocence.

"A good luck smack? That right?" A smirk formed on Gaz's face. "Well, I think I need a good luck smack of my own."

You turned to try and flee before Gaz wrapped his arms around you. "Nowhere to run, sweetheart."

The slap to your ass that ensued had everyone in the room turning to you and Gaz with wide eyes, much to your amusement.

König-

Poor König. He was minding his own business cleaning his weapons in the armory when you walked in. He was bent over staring in concentration at the gun he was in the middle of cleaning, giving you a perfect view of his ass.

You'd always wondered what his reaction would be if you were to go up and hit it, but you were always too nervous to try it. You were in a particularly playful mood, so you'd walked up to him with a polite smile before slapping his ass with all the force you could muster.

"Maus...have I done something wrong?" König asked timidly, standing up to his full height as he turned to you. His face was scrunched in confusion.

You bit your lip to contain your laughter at his reaction. "No? Baby, why would you think that."

"Oh. I um. Well. You spanked me, so I thought I must've done something to upset you." König's cheeks were red from embarrassment.

"Oh gosh, no Kö! You just.. looked really good, so I.... felt the need to slap your backside?" You now felt unbelievably awkward, not expecting this reaction.

"I see." König stood and contemplated your words for a few moments, before moving behind you. You felt a harsh smack on your ass, and heard a small giggle erupt from your boyfriend.

"Kö?"

"You look good too, so I smacked your ass." A tiny smile appeared on his lips.

From then on, König made it a point to slap your ass any time he deemed you looked good, so your ass was constantly imprinted with his large hand prints.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thanks for reading!!!😊🩷

[baohanhanesel]

Play fighting with your boyfriend

Mention: John "Soap" Mactavish and Simon "Ghost" Riley ( separate scenarios. )

Reader is a civilian in John's scenario and a part of the 141 in Simon's scenario.

John "Soap" Mactavish

You held your breath, your knees weak and hands were shaking while you tried to push John off of you. It was just a game. One you occasionally found yourselves in. You usually give up and tap out when he is all over you. Not that you are scared he'd actually hurt you, even if he did you'd know it was an accident. You just lacked to match his energy when it came to action. He is a strong energetic man, and you are a tired woman. You are famous for your talent of being able to break bones while walking on a straight road...

"Got the fight in ya today, bonnie!" He downright grunts the words to your ear with amusement. You grunt back, laughing and struggling against him.

"Fuck-- John!" You kicked his shin, and were maneuvered way too easily on your chest, he spread his fingers on your back and forced the heel of his palm in the middle of your spine. A loud crack and a pained grunt from your throat.

All action would have stopped if you were to just tap out, but the sound of the satisfying crack and the burning sensation took your mind away. You didn't stop him when he basically manhandled you, breaking your spirit to run away or tap out when he pushed you away.

It was light. It actually was pretty weak compared to what type of man John was. This must have been very hard for him to hold back all the hardness and strength, but the push still sent you down the couch.

Your chin met the ground with a thud and you hissed in pain.

"... Lass?"

You blinked, turning yourself around and laying on your back on the ground. You rubbed your chin mindlessly and looked up at John, who stared you down with mortified shot open eyes.

You felt the apology on the tip of his tongue and before he could get it out, you were laughing with tears in your eyes.

"Oh fuck" You exhaled "It hurts but--" You cackled, the giggle coming out of you was rather unhinged. "John help me!"

That did it. John scrambled to pull your arm. He grabbed your forearm. His big hand easily pulled you up on his chest and laid you back on the couch. You kept cackling, the redness on your chin was evident.

"Ah'm bloody sorry" He said, but then immediately frowned. "Why the fuck didncha tap out?!"

You felt his irritation and worry bleed into each other.

"Your hand felt good on my back for a moment, I forgot to tap out." What you couldn't say was I wanted to see if I could actually go through a bit of rough handling when it came to it, but no alive man would be able to take these words out of your mouth.

"Felt good?" John's brows furrowed further. He was glaring at you with a red blush on his tanned cheeks. "The crack?"

You gave him a nod, and his fingers came cupping your hurt chin. The redness was normal. Your skin got red to the slightest touch so it was fine. He just didn't want to miss it if it got purple or something. He placed chaste kisses all over your chin and you stifled your laugh.

"Yer the dead of me, ah'm telling ya." He genuinely looked distressed, you couldn't help but feel bad. Yep. You weren't playing tough anymore. You would definitely tap out next time.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You threw one leg over his hips professionally before getting shoved into the couch. Your legs locked themselves around his hips.

"Fucking hell, love." Ghost grabbed your wrists and tried to maneuver you around, but your legs kept you tight in place. You bit down on your bottom lip to gather strength and confidence before you kicked him in the guts.

The kick didn't move him an inch.

But if Ghost was any other man, he'd recoil with pain. You knew that. Sure of that, even. Because that was what happened to every recruit under your combat training.

"So that's how it is?" His voice was gravely low and threatening.

Your eyes widened. An audible gulp of fear heard from you.

"Obviously." You fake confidence. Fake it till you make it, they say.

Ghost suddenly takes a hold of your ankles and pushes you off, you try kicking him away and you know he would be off of you in an instant if you were to tap out.

You never tapped out. You always ended up on the ground with small bruises but it was okay. They hurt a lovable amount.

Ghost raised your leg, and squished his body through. He towered over you and you were finally aware of your incredibly inappropriate position.

Your breath hitched. "Simon." You warned, but he laughed.

"Tap out." He pressed, wrists tight in one hand while the other held your leg.

This was sinful.

"Oh of course." You taunt with a snarky remark, trying to wiggle your hips and get away. There is no getting away from Ghost's grip if he doesn't want it. And right now, he is not even playfighting. He is being fucking petty because you kicked him in the guts.

You would complain about it, but the feeling is getting to you. It burns in your belly and you are having a hard time thinking straight. You will get out of here and make him swallow this stunt.

You try again, but then an idea pops in your head.

You slam your head back and pull your other leg beneath your body. You move your body forward and bite his wrist.

"Love?"

You reply with a muffled hum. Your teeth sunken in his flesh.

"Down, girl." He sighs, tired. This is not doing anything to him.

You let his wrist go, and he lets you go at the same time. He pulls his mask off of his head and suddenly tackles you down.

You go down with a squeal before the mask is slid through your face.

The fabric rests comfortingly on your cheeks. You blink a few times to understand your position. He has his hands on your shoulders and you have a fistful of his shirt in your hands.

"Down, girl"? What the fuck, Simon. He is doing so many things to you and you are having a hard time deciphering them all.

You look at him with flushed cheeks, which are hidden behind the mask, and glare at him.

He is smirking bright and smug. "Just not in your dictionary is it? Backing down, I mean."

You groan, letting his shirt go and looking up at him. "You are a pain."

"Anything hurts?"

"My bleeding heart does!" You don't even feel humiliated. There is no need to because there is no defeating him. You feel incredibly bashful because of his actions though. His words. His mask.

Meanwhile Ghost is basking in the feeling of pride. The flushed skin on you. The red marks of his fingertips on your wrists and ankle while the mask stays on your face. Everything about your state screams; Lieutenant Simon Riley had his hands on you. And this brings nothing but satisfaction.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

A Family Lost, a Family Found

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you (8) are having nightmares, and Dean is there to help

Dean was gone—off on a hunt with Sam or something, you weren’t sure. It was just you, Ben, and Lisa—the only thing you’d ever remembered having that was like a normal family. Dean was just your big brother, but you didn’t even remember John, so he was more like your father than anyone. And Lisa was the closest thing to a mother you’d ever had.

You were sitting on the couch in the living room when the demons burst in. Lisa jumped to her feet, putting herself between the demons and her children. That meant she got stabbed first.

“Mommy!” You had never called her that before—too afraid that it would be awkward—but the danger of the moment turned off your more logical brain and put you into panic mode.

“No!” Ben cried, but he still had the presence of mind to pick up the tiny girl crying on the floor and try to run from the big men with black eyes.

He didn’t make it four steps.

One demon grabbed Ben and threw him to the ground. Ben landed on his back, his arms wrapped around you to protect you. Another demon wrenched you from his arms.

“No, no!” You cried, struggling against the man to no avail. “Leave Ben alone!”

It was too late. The demon that had thrown Ben to the ground was now lifting a knife, driving it down into Ben’s chest.

“No, no!” You sobbed. “Ben!”

The glint of the bloody knife caught your eye as the demon finally turned to you.

“No, no, no.” Your sobs faded to whimpers as the demon approached, raising the knife…

“No!” You cried out, and the sound echoed through your room. You took big gulps of air, glancing frantically around trying to get your bearings. You rubbed your eyes, and they focused; you were in your room in the bunker.

The tears were already flowing, and they kept on even after you realized you were safe—it was just a dream.

The ache inside wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t just fear either.

You freed yourself from your tangled sheets and found your way to your dresser, which you plunged your hand into and came out with a tattered photograph. You glanced around, as if afraid of being caught, before turning the picture over.

You, Dean, Lisa, and Ben. Your family…

Or it had almost been.

You stared at each face, convincing yourself that your dream was just that; that it wasn’t real. The whole reason you and Dean had left Lisa and Ben was to keep them safe after Sam came back. They couldn’t be killed by demons…

And you could never see them again. Even if you did, they wouldn’t remember you.

You hugged the picture to your chest. Your hands were still trembling, and your body rattled with every sob that escaped.

After a moment, you dropped the photo and focused your efforts on muffling your sounds—you didn’t want to wake Dean. As much as you needed him right now, you could never tell him why you were crying. Never.

“You ever mention Lisa or Ben to me again I will break your nose.”

“Dean—“

“I’m not kidding.”

Dean’s words to Sam—spoken just after Cas had erased Lisa and Ben’s memories of you and Dean—sent a shudder through you, just as they had the first time he’d said them. You were only around 5 or 6 when he said them, but you hadn’t forgotten. You’d promised yourself right then that you’d never speak of your old family again, and you’d kept that promise.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice had you jumping out of your skin. You tried to put the picture back in your dresser, but it slipped from your fingers as Dean approached, and it fell onto your sheets.

“Hey, what’s wrong kiddo?” Dean asked, sitting on your bed. “I heard you crying. Did you have a nightmare?”

You just nodded at Dean as you rubbed at your eyes. You thought maybe you’d get away with just saying it was a nightmare, maybe he wouldn’t see—

“Hey what’s this?” Dean reached over, carefully picking up the delicate picture. His whole body froze when he saw what was on it.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, throwing your arms around Dean’s neck and hiding your face in his neck. “I’m sorry De, I’m sorry. Please don’t break my nose.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” Dean demanded, gently prying you away from him. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s ok. It’s ok, calm down.”

You tried to take deep breaths, but you kept sobbing between your words as you said—

“You…you told Sammy…that. I’m so…I’m sorry De!”

“Ok, hey now.” Dean pulled you back into his arms, tucking you against his chest and rocking you back and forth, his chin resting on your head. “Shh, shh, just calm down.”

Dean didn’t know if you were crying because of the leftover adrenaline from the nightmare, because you missed your family, because you were scared of him, or a mixture of all three. It didn’t really matter why—you were hurting, that’s all that mattered.

You took a few shaky breaths, and once you were no longer sobbing Dean spoke again.

“I’m never gonna hurt you for missing them, kiddo.”

“You told Sam not to talk about them,” you sniffled.

“I…I know I did. But I was just…I was upset. And Sam didn’t understand—they weren’t his family. But they were yours, sweetheart. You’re allowed to miss them.”

“I had a nightmare,” you admitted with a whimper. “The-the demons got Ben and mommy.” You were crying again, and you didn’t even realize what you’d said, but Dean did, and that’s when it really hit him.

Lisa was the only mom you’d ever known, and you were too scared of Dean to even say that you missed her.

“Nobody’s going to hurt Lisa and Ben,” Dean promised. “And nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

Dean rocked you back and forth, turning you around so you could see your picture that he was holding up. He didn’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, staring at the image of what you’d lost. What you could’ve had.

“Don’t ever be scared to tell me what’s going on with you,” Dean said finally. “Have you been having these nightmares for a while?”

“Sometimes,” you sniffled.

“Well.” Dean turned you back around so you could look at him. “Next time you have one, you come straight to me, ok?”

“Ok.” You rubbed your eyes. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yup.” Dean patted your back. “And you’re coming with me, so grab on. This bed is too small for me.”

You giggled and rubbed the drying tears off your cheeks before wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck.

“I’m never gonna let anything get to you. You know that, right?” Dean spoke softly into your ear as he carried you.

“I know,” you whispered back.

“Good. Open,” he told you when he reached his door. He kept both hands holding you up while you reached back and opened the door to his room. “Ok.” He dropped heavily onto his bed, laying you down gently. “Let’s get some more sleep, alright?”

“Ok.” You waited for Dean to lay down, then dropped your head down on his chest and curled up with him as your pillow.

“Kiddo, I’m…I’m sorry you can’t have Lisa and Ben as family.”

“That’s ok,” you said after a moment. “I got you and Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled, his arms tightening around you. “You bet you do.”

Taglist:

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

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik turns 50. TF 141 throw him a surprise party. (As the author continues to build their voices and headcanons in his head.)

cw: none.

“I can't believe Nik’s going to be fifty next week. The man's aging like a fine wine. It must be something in the water over there.”

It had been a fairly innocuous comment by Laswell over one of their frequent phone calls, but it had sent Price into an unfathomable tailspin.

Fifty.

Fifty was a big birthday where Price came from. The kind where the extended family, and wider community around them, were invited to a village hall for an old fashioned knees up, and you ended up carrying your uncle Rodney home so your aunt didn't smother him with a throw pillow after he pissed all over the doorstep.

Price had never really thought much about the families and wider lives of his contacts. They got the job done and then they parted ways. In every sense, a contact held the same position in Price's mind as the weapon in his hand; a tool to be used and then set aside once you were done.

But Nik… Nik was becoming more than a contact. A lot more. Price knew there was no uncle Rodney for Nik. There was no family whatsoever. No one special to mark half a century with, except maybe… fuck.

Price didn't share scotch with just anyone, let alone pass his cigar over for them to take a toke. As much as he respected Laswell, he was never inclined to spend hours with her chattin’ shit, until the sun broke through the blinds and they both had to slam some black coffee so they looked remotely presentable for their operators. His hand never lingered on anyone else's carrier vest, and no one else's voice made warmth and light curl in his chest.

No one else slotted against Price's... everything quite like Nikolai.

Price wasn't stupid. He knew what these signs meant, but that didn't mean he had any idea what the fuck to do about them. It was safer to just… be, too cowardly to progress any further. And yet, this felt like a milestone somehow.

“Captain, are you there? John?”

“Rog, yeah… uh. Continue.”

By the time Price had hung up, he had resolved to do something to mark Nik’s birthday. Laswell had coughed up the exact date and then slyly asked why Price was so interested. Her tone suggested she already had a hunch. “141 tradition,” he'd said, before hanging up. Rude, but she'd cope.

He finished some paperwork and turned in for the night, but sleep didn't come easy. His plans played out across the dark ceiling above his head and each time he settled on a course of action, he picked a hundred holes in it and cast it aside.

“Buy him a bottle of vodka and put a bow on your prick,” Simon said over eggs and bacon. The majority of the base was still asleep, with only a few other troopers skulking around the canteen.

Price choked on his gulp of tea and thumped his chest. “Classy, Simon.”

“You’ve been dancin’ round each other for years,” Simon murmured, rubbing at the stubble below the line of his mask. “Best time as any to pull the trigger.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black,” Price said as he stabbed at the bacon on his plate to emphasise each word.

“Fuck off,” Simon grumbled, “sir.”

Price snorted a laugh and they finished the rest of their breakfast in companionable silence. After a session in the gym, a myriad of brain-numbing meetings and supervising some training runs, Price was no closer to shaking out of his decision paralysis. If they were on mission he could have hashed out a plan without taking a breath, but he… didn't want to fuck this up. It felt too important.

Price was left with no choice but to consult professionals.

“Surprise party,” Soap said gleefully, chucking his playing cards onto the coffee table. “In th’ hanger, we invite him over tae ‘discuss an op’,” Soap lifted his fingers to emphasise the spoken quotation marks, “get Laswell tae send the invite.”

Gaz nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, then he won't suspect anything - oh, oh, I've got Farah's number, we can get her in on it. She’ll know if he’ll want anyone else, and… uh, you know, we’ll get clearance.”

“Right,” Price leaned back, arms folded over his chest. “So, what… we need food, and cake.”

“Aye, sir,” Soap said, squinting. “And booze. Gaz an’ I'll sort the logistics, and ye jus’ need tae sort the pressie.”

“We’re on it, sir. Leave it to us.”

The present. Price could do that. No worries.

Two days later, he stared down at the forty item long Amazon wishlist he had titled “Operation Black Hawk” and had no idea what to get. Something that walked the line of funny but sentimental, that said ‘you’re hot as fuck but I'm not desperate but I absolutely wank over you in the shower’.

“Fuckin Christ,” Price whispered at this office ceiling, slouched deep in his chair. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to quiet but for thoughts of Nik. Think, think.

So many conversations, ice tinkling against glass, low chuckles and borish jokes; a warm palm on Price’s shoulder and a smile so toothy it was contagious. Endless memories of time at Nik’s side. There had been that summer Nik had come fishing with him. Just a few days of peace before they both returned to the field. Nik had snoozed through most of it, exhausted by their previous mission, but in between he had surveyed the lake, watching the insects flit across the water.

“Poprygun'ya strekoza, leto krasnoye propela,” Nikolai had murmured.

“Cursing my ancestors?” Price had asked before gulping down a mouthful of beer.

Nik had chuckled. “Nyet, captain. It means a playful prankish Dragonfly, the whole summer have sung out. It is a poem by Ivan Karylov. One of my favourites.”

“Yeah? What's it about?”

“It is a fable...”

“Oh bloody hell, not another Russian morality lesson.”

“Pssh, this is good one. You will like it,” Nik had sat up in his camping chair. “It is about a beautiful dragonfly who spends her summer dancing and resting, while the hardworking ant prepares. When winter comes, she begs the ant for help, but he refuses, because he worked hard and she did not.”

“Harsh but fair. Work hard, play hard, them’s the rules..”

“You see, I knew you would like it. You are an ant. You earn your rest. This,” Nik had gestured at fishing tackle, the camping equipment, and the lake, “is the fruit of your labour, and I am privileged to share it with you, my friend.”

“And I you, mate.”

They had knocked their bottles together and moments later one of Price’s reels had begun spinning out. By that point they'd drunk so much that landing the damn carp had left them both up to their knees in lake water, pissing themselves laughing on the bank. It had been both the worst and best fishing expedition of Price’s life.

Price opened his eyes in the present and grinned at the ceiling, digging his phone out of his pocket. He knew exactly what he was going to get Nik.

The rest of the week sprinted by quicker than a RAF pilot on his way to a champagne dinner, and before he knew it Price was standing on a rickety plastic chair hanging a bloody banner from a rusty nail high on the hanger wall.

“It's wonky, cap,” Gaz said just as Price was climbing down.

“I think you'll find your eyes are wonky, sergeant.”

“Of course, sir. I'll get that sorted.”

Price pressed his hands to the small of his back and glanced around at the preparations. The sergeants had done well. Soap had even managed to draft Simon in on the booze run and there was a healthy selection of spirits on the buffet table by the birthday cake. It was a Colin Caterpillar from Marks and Spencers, one of Nik's favourite shops to visit when he was in the UK, with a joke candle stuck in the top that he wouldn't be able to blow out. Soap's idea.

The majority of Chimera had turned up to mark the occasion, as had a few faces Price recognised from previous ops with other organisations and task forces. Soap had said a few didn't quite pass the bar for security clearance, which wasn't surprising.

It was just as Gaz and Soap were bickering over the playlist that they heard the telltale drum of helicopter blades beat overhead. “Places, places!” Soap crowed from the hanger door, slamming the lights off. Booted feet scuttled across the dusty floor to find hiding places behind the vehicles and crates stacked around the edges, and Price joined Soap by the door.

Several minutes passed, and then… “And you have no idea where the weapons store is?”

“None at all, Nik. Price should have more intel,” Laswell replied. She had rendezvoused with Nik in Germany as part of the plan. Her wife was currently squatting behind a crate with Gaz.

“I hope so or this will be a difficult mission.”

Soap was practically vibrating at Price's shoulder as Nik rounded the corner. He slammed on the lights and everyone erupted from their hiding places on cue. Price didn't miss how Nik’s hand dropped for his sidearm, his eyes blown wide.

“Laswell, what is–?”

“Happy birthday, Nikolai,” she said, walking by to plant a kiss on her wife's cheek.

“I–” Nik glanced around the hanger as he accepted hugs from Gaz and Syd, handshakes from others, still bewildered. “How–?”

“It was th’ captain's idea,” Soap said, jutting his chin at Price. “He told us ye were hittin’ the big five-oh, old man. Ye not gettin’ off that easy.”

“Here, drink,” Simon grunted, pressing a glass into Nik's hand. “I'm startin’ the food, Johnny. I've been patient.”

“Aye, L.T. Bust open th’ sarnies. Farah, th’ ones on the left are halal - aye, bet.”

Nik was drawn into conversation briefly and Price hung back, glancing at the badly wrapped parcel he'd stashed on top of an empty oil container. He was so focused on his internal misgivings that Nik’s hand on his elbow made him startle. “Oi, give me a bloody heart attack…”

“You did this?”

“MacTavish and Garrick did this,” Price said.

Nik, who knew that the 141 did nothing without Price's express permission, grinned toothily. They stood in silence as he surveyed the many faces scattered around the hanger, some shoving sandwiches in their faces while others swigged from freshly open bottles. “I… have never had a birthday party before.”

“What? Not even as a kid?”

Nik shrugged one shoulder. “Nyet, it was not a… priority.” He looked back at Price, dark eyes heavy with something complex and unreadable. “Thank you.”

Price swallowed and tried to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. “You're uh… you're welcome, I… got you something. But, uh…” Before he could wuss out, Price grabbed the poorly wrapped parcel and shoved it into Nik's hands. “Happy birthday.”

Nik set his glass aside. “Your wrapping skills are…”

“Bloody fantastic.”

“...unique.”

“I'll take it.”

Nik huffed a laugh as he tore the brown paper away and flipped the book over in his hands. Price was relieved to see his face brighten. “Aesop’s fables. Captain, this is beautiful…”

To be fair, it was a damn pretty book. The hardcover was illustrated with the animals from the fables, the pages edged in gold, and the inside cover was patterned. You know… posh. And then Nik found the second part, tucked about a quarter of the way through. It was a photograph from their fishing expedition. A rough selfie, with half a fish head in shot where Nik was trying to display their catch, and Price’s face smeared with mud from where he had stumbled onto the bank.

Nik's eyes lingered on it, his fingertips brushing over their grinning faces, and he swallowed.

Price panicked. “I'm sorry, it's shit, I'll uhm–”

Nik pulled him into an embrace that crushed the air from his lungs. There was definitely a stutter in Nik’s chest, and Price wrapped his arms around him in return. If he happened to turn his nose into Nik's neck, and Nik happened to press his face a little closer, then that was fine. More than fine.

Price's toes curled in his boots, his fingers tightened in Nik’s shirt, the aching in his chest becoming that much harder to ignore. “You alright?”

“Da,” Nik said tightly. “I just need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Price murmured, closing his eyes as he cradled Nik against him. He didn't mark the time, happy to revel in the warmth of the solid body in his arms, and the smell of Nik's skin, pressed so close Price could feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

When Nik finally pulled away, slightly reddened eyes lingered on Price’s lips before turning to the rest of the party, who were doing a shitty job of pretending they hadn't all been watching. “Later, I would… like to spend some time with you.”

Price didn't want to examine the heat under his skin too closely, lest it be entirely misplaced. “Course.”

“Nik, get over ‘ere tae blow th’ oot before Ghostie eats yer cake’s face!”

Nik tucked his book under his arm and walked over to the buffet table with Price to a horrifically off-key rendition of ‘happy birthday’. Once Nik had worked the candles out, flicking them at Soap with a loud Russian cuss, festivities descended, as they usually did on base, into raucous drinking games and whatever the sergeants decided passed for dancing. Simon lost the Ring of Fire and had to down the filthiest pint Price had ever seen in his life, Laswell thrashed them all at beer pong and Gaz tried to teach Farah how to do the worm. As far as fiftieth birthday parties went, it definitely beat out the village hall knees up.

Later, when the majority of the party had slunk off to dark corners, fallen asleep where they sat or retired in good order, Nik pulled his captain back into his arms and kept him there until the sun rose. Except, this time, they did a damn sight more than talk.

[therookieimagines]

Not that he cares...or anything.. - Tim Bradford x reader part one

Summary: After an argument with your TO you request a change, after a rough fight at home it leaves your Training officer to not only save your life, but unknowingly give you meaning in life as well.

warnings: Details of being shot, shooting someone else, you almost dying, your roommate being a creep

You were a rookie with the LAPD, working alongside some of the best, trying your hardest to do whatever is right, but today, your head was foggy, you were going through a thing with your roommate who had a thing for you, and now after politely declining, he's kicking you out.

You were out on a call with your training officer, Tim Bradford, he was no doubt an amazing officer, but you also agreed he was hard on his rookies, and for you it hurt because you actually felt like you two were pretty close, most times not having to communicate with each other on calls, you both just understood the other. "God Damnit, Boot! RUN! The suspect is running!" He screamed as he took off over the fence, you snapped back into reality, taking off in a sprint to cut off the drug dealer on the other side of the alley, but as you rounded the corner, you saw that Tim had already gotten him apprehended, and you could tell by the deadly glare he gave you, you were on his chopping block. You followed behind silently as he shoved the guy into the back of your guys' shop, slamming the back door before taking a long deep breath "O-Officer Bradford I can-" He cut you off by walking away to the driver side "I don't give a shit get in" He snapped as he slammed his door, you gulped down tears as you took your seat in the passenger, he didn't speak a single word the entire way back to the station.

As you booked your suspect you made your way over to John sighing "I think I screwed things up with Bradford" You sighed slumping against the wall "I'm sorry, hey maybe we can get drinks after shift? Sorry Harper and I are about to leave on a huge lead, talk when-" He couldn't finish his sentence before your fate was sealed "Rookie! The shop! Now!" Bradford shouted from the garage door, you rushed over, holding your service belt to keep anything from falling out while you jogged, as you loaded into the shop you held your breath, waiting for the lecture. "So..should I just..shoot you now?" He asked, his tone dripping with anger "W-what?..why?" You asked, confused on why'd he'd ever need to shoot you "Because what if that suspect had a weapon?! part of being a cop is always staying vigilant! and you failed today!" he shouted, his hand smacking against the steering wheel, out of instinct from the last week you flinched towards the door, your hand immediately popping to the door handle ready to run. Tim took notice, he just didn't want to see you hurt or worse, especially under his watch..not that he cared about you..or anything.

Tim didn't see you the next day, you had showed up early to request a temporary T.O change, you just felt like you had crossed a line with Bradford and it'd be better to just give him space. Tim on the other hand was stressed the entire shift, making sure to listen to any radio calls from you or Detective Harper, not that he cared..or anything.. John had taken notice of Tim obvious behavior change "Forgive me if i'm wrong, but you're kinda acting like you care about y/n, alot" He suggested watching as Bradford shot him a dirty glare pulling up on scene to come in as back-up for you. "Listen here, rookie, I do not care for y/n, I am doing my job, They needed back-up, we're responding" He snapped getting out, following in behind you and Harper.

You sighed changing into your street clothes and heading to your car, trying to avoid Tim at any chance "Boot! Real quick!" You heard his voice shout as you went to open your car door "Listen, about yesterday-" You cut him off "Officer Bradford, really it's no big-" it was his turn to cut you off "It is, I lost my cool, and as a cop, training officer...and..friend..it wasn't okay" He admitted "So I'm sorry" You sighed "Tim, it's okay, I just figured you needed space, now I gotta get home, get some stuff handled" You smiled before getting in your car, starting it up.

Before you could realize you were home, you slowly approached the steps, still keeping your hand on your service belt, you had taken your belt home with you, signing it out just incase things went sideways. As you opened the door you could immediately tell something was off, the tv was on but muted, the stove was still on high with a boiling pot of some type of weird liquid, it wasn't just that though, you could sense something was bad, you slowly pulled up your radio, trying to stay quiet "This is Officer Y/n l/n badge number 49336, I need a cruiser sent to 39213 hollywood avenue for assistance in eviction" Tim heard you over his own radio at home, immediately running to his truck "Dispatch, This is Officer Tim Bradford Badge number 34831, please clock me in for duty, responding to Officer l/n's back call" He said into his radio as he sped to your address, knowing damn well something was happening.

You didn't even make it to your bedroom before you were body slammed into your hallway wall, you roommate yanking your gun out of your holster taking aim "You stupid bitch!" He shouted, you gulped, raising your hands as you tried to back into the wall further like it could hide you from the danger that was right in front of you. "L-Listen, We don't have to do it like this, you can just put the-" He cut you off by firing you gun, you couldn't feel the bullet bust into your stomach like you always thought, you just felt the stabbing burning pain it left as it went through your body. You fell to the ground watching as your roommate rushed to you pressing his hands down on your wound "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean t-too" He shouted, you went into flight or fight, only remembering your training, you could hear Bradford shouting in your head 'take out the threat, rookie!' You reached the gun that he dropped next to the both of you, quickly firing two shots into his chest watching him fall back, you let your body go limp, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, exhausted from everything that had happened that day.

Tim rushed in, two other on-duty uniforms following behind "You two clear the main rooms, I'll go in the back, check the bedrooms, she's gotta be here somewhere" He demanded, pulling his phone out calling your cell phone still holding his gun in the air as he cleared the rooms, dropping his phone whenever he saw the bottom of your work boot peeking around the corner of the hallway, a tiny trail of blood slowly running to Bradford's shoe "Y/n!" He shouted "I need an RA! Now!" He screamed, he wasn't concerned for your roommate at all, it was obvious you had lost a lot of blood, your uniform was soaked through, the white patches showing your rank were now dark red, along with your hair. He never left your side, he was the one preforming CPR until your pulse was back, he was the one by your bedside for two weeks, he was the first person you saw whenever you woke up.

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the dark room, the bright wall clock telling you it was a little past one in the morning, as you looked around you jumped seeing a body sprawled out on a hospital bed somewhat close to yours, he couldn't of made it, you shot him repeatedly. You could hear your heart monitors beep increase as you went over every possibility of him living, there was no way, right as you thought you were going to pass out, the door opened with a nurse and doctor, and the man near you sprung awake, you were met with a shirtless Tim Bradford, with messy hair, that was normally always styled perfectly. "Look who's up" The doctor greeted as Tim bolted to your bedside "You're alright, boot, you were shot, but we got there just in time, you okay" He explained, you were slowly calming down, still confused on how you ended up shot, last thing you remembered you were finishing up a call with Tim about a robbery.

Tim explained everything over the course of the rest of the night, slowly he moved from his 'bed' to the chair next to your bed, to next to you in your bed as you both watched one of the uniform's bodycam footage per your request. Tim's eyes were on you the entire time, worried about how you may react seeing your own body basically dead, your eyes stayed glued on the scene, not realizing your smile peeked out a little seeing Tim already waiting by your door, his truck basically parked on your porch. Your body froze seeing the footage veer around your hallway to reveal the bloody scene, your eyes chose to focus on something other than the trauma that was everywhere "were you...holding me crying, Bradford?" You asked turning to look at him smirking "No! I was not crying! you couldn't tell but it was raining" He said, he couldn't help but smile at you "Fine! but..you weren't..you weren't awake! I-I thought I lost my first rookie on my watch" He explained trying to write it off as not caring that much about you still.

You just leaned into his shoulder pushing him a bit "Don't lie Bradford" You giggled, to your surprise he just sighed wrapping his arm around you "You scared me good..don't do it again..please.." He whispered pressing a kiss to the top of your head, holding onto you tight for the rest of night.

don't worry my children there will be a part two with so much more fluff and sappy Bradford, I just needed some good backstory lore ;)

[oceantornadoo]

can be read as part of the duckie universe?? standalone tho. here

“‘ello, duckie.” john’s voice was smooth gravel in your ear, honeyed and sweet. “hey john. date was ok. won’t be a second one though, it felt like i was talking to a colleague, not a potential lover.” john was silent on the other end, just gruff breathing. you bit the tip of your tongue, cursing yourself for giving so much information. he was supposed to be your best friend, your confidant, but somehow this felt like crossing a line. but you weren’t anything, he never tried anything, so really this wasn’t even your fault.

“where are you?” what if you didn’t tell him? what if you ignored the fact that he has your location and was probably already on his way? what about the sound of an engine turning on in the background? “that one thai place off base. john i-“ “took him to our spot?” shit. you were in for it.

john pulled up ten minutes later in his worn truck, the transport he took when he was undercover or off duty. when he was wearing those jeans that hugged his ass way too well and that black henley you bought for him two christmases ago, his biceps practically bursting out of it. “john, it’s not a big deal.” he refused to meet your eyes, taking your bag and guiding you to his truck door, ever the gentleman. “get in, duckie.” instead of complying, you turned and placed a hand on his chest, an attempt to make him meet your eyes. instead, he gazed at your hand, your left hand, with its bare fingers. “don’t make me say it again.” to postpone a fight in the parking lot and to quicken the time it would take you to get home and out of these extremely uncomfortable shoes, you rolled your eyes and made your way to the passenger door. you ignored how he opened it for you, how he placed a hand on your ass to help you up into the truck, even thought it was just a few inches off the ground.

the ride back to base was silent, your fingers itching to press the radio button just to break the tension. the minutes passed quickly, john pulling up to his base quarters with practiced ease. he backed into a parking spot, a hand on your headrest that you tried valiantly to ignore. the smell of his cologne reached you anyways, a pavlovian reaction relaxing your body on instinct. he helped you out of the car despite his anger, rough hands guiding you towards the familiar path leading to his room. never mind that you desperately wanted to go to your own room, change into sweats, wipe off your makeup, decompress with a glass of wine or two. instead, you were walking to john’s room like a prisoner, heavy steps echoing your own as he opened doors and tugged you through them.

finally you were at his room, watching his nimble hands open the door with the slightest shake. that couldn’t be right. he only shook when he was angry and - you did a quick catalogue of his bunched shoulders muscling through the entrance, the sharp way he toed off his boots - maybe you were wrong. he knelt down before you before your brain could even register, grasping at your ankle and tugging off your shoes. he did it with too much force, causing you to stumble into him, stomach squishing against his face. “i’m sorry.” he grunted in reply, still not meeting your eyes. “sit.” you gulped at the sight of his bed, tucked in with military precision.

“explain.” john was looking down at you, arms crossed against his chest. instead of answering, you tugged him down to sit next to you. the fact that he let you? he wasn’t that mad. “we were supposed to eat at the pub but it was closed so that’s why we went to the thai place. and he suggested it, ok? it wasn’t on purpose.” he shook his head, shoulder brushing your own. “he’s a bloody idiot for not checking beforehand.” you giggled, laying your head against his shoulder. “right? i would never betray our restaurant like that, john.” john was silent, lost to his thoughts. the anger was still there, a simmer instead of a boil. he wasn’t hearing you, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“john, you’re not listening.” you stood up, walking in between his open legs, your hand on his shoulders. his eyes were still glazed, brows furrowed. deciding on drastic measures, you dragged yourself into his lap, straddling him into the mattress. finally, his eyes met yours, all blue and wanting. his hands on your hip, your pelvises kissing. “duckie.” you shook your head, biting your lip. “there a reason why you’re so mad at me, captain?” john’s hands tightened against your body, holding you in place. “don’t play that, sweetheart.” you dragged your hands into his beard, tugging lightly on the strands. “then why did you pick me up all stoic?” he brought his face closer to yours, noses touching. eyes flickering to yours, searching for something. you were tired of this caveman act. “kiss me, john.”

his eyes widened. "stop playin', duck. not the time." you shook your head, giving him a roll of your hips. denim brushed on denim, stirring his cock to life. "don't you want to kiss your future wife?" his eyes widened at the mention of the marriage pact that usually only he brought up. "you told me to wait, so i'm waitin’, sweetheart." he wasn't getting it. you finally saw past it, past the wall of anger he portrayed. "well, if you won't, then maybe i'll call my date and-"

john's lips smashed against your own, his hands tugging you closer into his laps. he was searching, for what you didn't know, chasing you with a kiss. his cock was hard against you, the brush of denim against your clit sending shock waves to your system. "not gonna fuck you, duckie. not yet." you frowned, breaking the kiss. "why not?" he moved to your neck, kissing it frantically.

"'cause you're not as deep as i am. 's okay, i can wait a few more years." you started bucking in his lap, chasing the feeling in your stomach. "john, you're so hot when you're mad. please please please fuck me." he chuckled at your tone, one hand moving from your hip to grip your jaw in place. "y'r so whiny when you're horny, baby. can't wait to fuck you one day." his beard was scratching your neck, the sensation setting you on fire. you kept grinding, his hands pulling you in and own, helping you chase your orgasm. "gonna come like this for your husband?" you didn't even try to correct him, too lost in the waves of pleasure. just a bit more and - he bit your neck, sending you over the edge into blissful orgasm. you worked out the waves in his lap, slowing down as the exhaustion hit you. "john, i-' you ended with a yawn, sinking into his embrace. "'s okay, duckie. all the time you need. i can wait."

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You and Joel get to know each other better and the two of you share a private moment out behind the barn under the stars; an unexpected guest shows up to the party; Tommy gives Joel a second and final warning about you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) MENTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ABUSE. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, mutual pining and yearning, Joel sings to reader a bit (that is its own warning), soft Joel, overprotective Joel, and a slight hint of jealous Joel. Tommy seems like kind of an asshole but he’s just trying to look out for his brother, okay?

word count 6.6k

About an hour later, after tossing back about three or four bottles of Seth’s crappy beer, you’d started feeling a lot livelier and a lot more like yourself. It was a glass of his delicious, oak-barrel aged whiskey that you had wanted more than anything, but with Esther over at the bar openly flirting up a storm with Joel Miller, you pushed down the desire for scotch and settled for the bitter lager instead.

It tasted awful, but it did the job well enough. The best part was that the bottles of beer were all readily available in coolers all around the barn, and you didn’t need to go up to the bar to get one. 

The last thing you’d wanted was to find out what was going on between Esther and Joel.

“And the next thing you know, poor John is being chased all around the chicken coop by a bunch of broody hens!” Martha finishes her story, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, I wish I would’ve had a camcorder in hand. It was the funniest thing I ever did see in almost two damn decades.”

Everyone sitting around the table bursts into a fit of loud, hearty laughter.

“Oh okay, so then that would probably explain why there weren’t many eggs in stock at the market the other morning,” you tease, only fueling the commotion.

John glares at you, and you shrug innocently, fighting back another laugh. Six foot two with big, broad shoulders and arms, you found it both very difficult and very amusing to picture the bulky blond man being chased around by a flock of pissed off chickens.

“I’d really like to see any of you guys try and take a broody hen’s eggs away from her with ease!” John huffs out before taking a gulp of his beer. He’s red in the face, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment. “Assholes.”

Martha leans over, whispering, “See? I told you it would make him mad.”

You giggle, lightly shaking your head at her. “Talk about ruffling some feathers, huh?”

She snorts into her plate of potatoes, jabbing her elbow into your side. “Let’s stop before he really gets all riled up, or else we’re going to get an earful.”

“Oh come on, John. Lighten up,” you grin over at him from across the table. “I know what’ll make you feel better. You guys want to hear a really, and I mean really embarrassing story?” You pause for a second or two, just long enough for everyone to nod eagerly. “Let me tell you about what Stella did to me the other day in her stall when I tried to take her temperature, it was absolutely awful. Okay, so there I am about to—”

“Sorry to interrupt you folks, but do you all mind if we steal this sweet little lady here for just a minute or two?” The sound of Tommy Miller’s smooth, deep voice causes you to stop abruptly mid-sentence. You glance over your shoulder only to see him approaching the table. He’s closely followed by Maria, who had traded her usual patrol duty attire for a light blue denim dress that sat off of her shoulders, the flowing skirt falling just above knees. Her white cowboy hat matches her husband’s.

“Aw c’mon, Miller! She was just about to tell us a story!” Peter, Martha’s husband, exclaims as he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I promise we won’t keep her too long, alright?”

You immediately notice that he’s holding a drink in each hand, each glass filled almost to the rim with a bold, rich amber liquor over ice. The only reason that you’d immediately known one of the two drinks was meant for you was because Maria had just discovered that she was pregnant. It was still a secret that very few people knew about, but the minute she confirmed it with a pregnancy test earlier that month, she’d come running to your door to tell you. It’s the reason she’s been avoiding booze all evening—she’s been sipping on lemonade all night instead. 

“Excuse me,” you nod politely to the group of friends you’d been sitting with and stand up from the table. You follow Tommy and Maria over to a far corner of the barn where the three of you could talk somewhat privately. Accepting the glass from Tommy, you offer him a grateful smile, pleased that you’d gotten the drink you had wanted after all. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” He nods and tips the brim of his cowboy hat to you in his typical, gentleman-like manner. He’d never lost an ounce of those Texas manners.

Maria loops her arm through his. “Well, it looks like tonight was a real success,” she states as she glances around the room, her pride written clearly across her face. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Absolutely,” you agree, enthusiastically. You smile again and lift your glass to the couple as you toast, “Another year and another success. Here’s to many, many more to come.”

“Cheers to that, little lady,” Tommy grins and lifts up his glass, clinking the rim of it to yours before taking a generous drink, nearly draining it in one single gulp. “Thanks for stoppin’ by earlier and helpin’ set the place up, by the way. We really appreciate it.”

You wave your free hand at him. “Oh, no need to thank me at all. You already know that I was more than happy to help out,” you tell him as you take a careful sip of whiskey. The hard liquor burns its way down your throat in the sweetest way. Taking another sip, you turn to look at Maria, unable to help yourself from admiring her gorgeous, natural glow. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Maria replies with a smile, placing her free hand over her flat stomach. At only a few weeks along, she still had quite a long way to go before she began to show. “Just a little bit of morning sickness here and there, but so far, so good.” She pauses and leans her body into Tommy’s side. “I never thought I’d be having a baby in my forties,” she muses with a laugh. “I thought that train had left the station a long time ago. But I guess life had something else planned for me.”

“For us,” Tommy corrects, playfully nudging her.

“For us,” Maria echoes, giving him a loving kiss on his cheek. “Luke calls it a geriatric pregnancy. He told me I’m automatically considered high risk, due to my age and all. But we’re hoping it’ll go smoothly.”

You detect the genuine concern behind her optimistic smile and reach out, gently touching her arm. “I’m sure it will all turn out fine. You just have to make sure that you’re taking good care of yourself and getting plenty of rest.” You point a finger at her, wagging it back and forth. “So, that means no more patrol duties for you, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh I know,” she laughs again. “I’m on light work duties starting next week and in a few months, it’ll be strict bed rest for me. At least, that’s what Luke recommended, but I’m hoping to stay on my feet for a little bit longer than that.” She tilts her head curiously to the side as she looks at you. “Speaking of Luke, is he around? We haven’t seen him at all tonight.”

Throat bobbing, you grip your glass tightly in your hand. The corners of your mouth threaten to turn downward, but you manage to hold your smile well enough.

At this point, you had pretty much lost track of the number times you’d been asked about Luke.

Where is he? Why isn’t he here with you? Do you think there’s a chance he’ll show up tonight? Can’t you go home and convince him to join us? 

You just about loathed the way he was considered to be a hero in Jackson. The way that every single person in the community adored the man to pieces made you sick to your stomach—Luke was anything but a hero, but nobody knew that. Not a single soul knew the real him, the monster that emerged behind closed doors, the terrible things he did when no one was around.

There had been an occasion or two where you had considered going to Tommy and Maria about it, to tell them all about the horrors that went on within the walls of your home. But even when they’d point out a bruise on your arm or a scrape on your cheek, you would lose the courage and chalk it up to a clumsy accident or injuries sustained while on the job—hell, just a few months ago, you’d blamed an injured shoulder on Ranger, telling Tommy that his beloved stallion had accidentally kicked you during one of your routine examinations. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it hadn’t been his horse who put you in a sling for three weeks, it had been Luke. But how the hell could you do that?

Luke is the commune’s physician. The commune’s only physician. 

Besides the two older nurses who worked in the clinic along with him, he was the only medically trained professional who knew how to treat severe injuries, perform minor surgeries, and diagnose illnesses—as much as you hated to admit it, Jackson needed him. If you told Tommy and Maria about everything that he’d done to you over the last two years, then you’d risk getting Luke locked up in the town jail, or possibly even thrown out and exiled from the settlement. What would that mean for the people in the community who fell ill or became injured and needed a doctor?

Maybe he wasn’t a hero to you, but to everybody else, he was. People could die without him and his medical knowledge. Hell, Maria would need Luke now more than ever now that she was pregnant.

For as much as you wanted to tell them the truth about him, you just couldn’t find the guts to do it, not when the decision would impact every single person in Jackson.It would be too selfish.

So, you kept quiet and continued to let it happen because what else could you do? 

Nothing. 

There wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.

Tommy says your name, snapping you back out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” he asks you as he gingerly touches your shoulder. “You zoned out on us for a minute there.”

You blink. “Yeah sorry, I’m alright. Um, Luke decided to stay at home and get some rest,” you reply as you shift awkwardly from boot to boot, feeling a sudden heat flood your face. “He’s been working a lot of hours at the clinic and making house calls as well, so he’s just been really tired, you know?”

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Maria frowns. “Tommy and I were hoping we could say this to the both of you together, but I suppose you’ll have to give him the message on our behalf when you get home to him later tonight.”

You shoot her a puzzled look. “What is it?”

“We know we don’t say this as often as we should, but you and Luke do so much for us. So much for Jackson,” Tommy says, sincere gratitude dripping from his tone. “We’re damn lucky to have the two of you here. Me and Maria, and everyone in this community, we’re all deeply indebted to both of you for all you do.”

You stare at him. “Everyone here works very hard, Tommy—”

“Now, I ain’t saying they don’t,” he interrupts you by holding up his hand. “But let’s be honest here. Luke, he takes good care of all of our people, you take good care of all of our horses—people and horses, that’s what keeps this place runnin’ like a well oiled machine and you know it just as well as we do. Without the both of you lookin’ after our two most important resources, I ain’t all too sure where the hell this place would be.”

Maria nods in agreement with her husband and squeezes his arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest,” she remarks upon seeing the bewildered expression on your face. “He’s right. And we need you to know how much we appreciate everything the two of you do for this community.”

Tommy grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To you and Luke.”

Stomach churning, you flash them your very best smile and lift your own glass, clinking it against his and then to Maria’s bottle of lemonade. “Well, I will certainly give him the kind message when I get home tonight. Thank you.” You take a quick sip of your drink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The room feels hot, like it had been lit on fire and you were standing too close to the flames. “It’s starting to feel a bit warm in here. I’m going to go outside for a minute to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”

Before either of them can utter another word, you spin around on your heel and hastily make your way across the barn towards the exit, being careful not to bump into the dancing couples on the dance floor along the way. Even as you hurried out, you’d caught sight of Ellie sitting with Dina at one of the tables, digging into her plate full of barbecue. Dina had leaned over and whispered something into Ellie’s ear and Ellie let out a loud, obnoxious cackle through a mouthful of food.

Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but smile—an actual, genuine smile this time around.

At least Ellie seemed to be having a good time.

That’s more than enough for you.

Joel glimpses over Esther’s shoulder. 

His eyebrows pull together in a mixture of confusion and concern as he watches you practically run out of the barn alone with a drink clutched in your hand and a strange expression on your face—you appear to be upset over something.

The blonde in front of him had been going on and on about where she was from, although he hadn’t quite been listening to her the entire time she had been talking—or at all. 

Had Esther said Vermont? Or maybe it had been Virginia?

Joel wasn’t all too sure, but he didn’t care enough to ask her to clarify. Besides, his thoughts were far too busy preoccupied with someone else. Someone he needed to make sure was alright.

“Listen Esther, s’been real nice talkin’ to you,” he states as he offers the woman the most polite smile he can possibly muster up for her. He tries to ignore the awkward way she’d pouted her lips at him, a sad, disappointed look flashing in her eyes. “But I’ve gotta go and take care of somethin’ for a minute. Will you excuse me?”

He doesn’t even give Esther the chance to respond. Setting his drink down on the counter, he gives her a quick nod goodbye and steps around her. He starts towards the barn’s exit, but before leaving, he tosses a quick glance in Ellie’s direction just to make sure she’s still doing okay without him. He had been keeping a close and watchful eye on her from the bar the entire time. After a while, it soon became apparent to Joel that Ellie had been doing just fine. She’s scarfing down another heaping helping of bison and potatoes, grinning from ear to ear as she talks with Dina, who seems to be enjoying her company despite her poor table manners.

Joel steps outside into the night and he takes a look around, searching for you among the small, scattered groups of people who stood mingling with one another. Gossiping women, drunk and rowdy patrolmen, children running around—he jumps slightly as a giggling little redheaded girl who can’t be older than five circles around his legs with a curly haired boy who is about the same age chasing after her. He lightly shoos them away from him and they take off running in another direction.

He scans his surroundings once more.

You’re nowhere to be found.

Humming, Joel glances down.

He notices a long trail of footprints left behind by what had to be a pair of cowboy boots, similar to the ones you’d been wearing. The strange way in which they veered off in a random direction away from the rest of the crowd tips him off almost a bit too easily—he knows they belong to you. Without giving it a second thought, he starts to follow your tracks and they lead him all the way around to the back of the barn.

That’s where Joel finds you, leaning against the wooden paddock fence. You’re back is to him, your head tilted upwards. Your gaze seems to be lost somewhere up in the velvet, purple night sky and you’re swaying along to the pretty country melody that, even outside, can still be heard coming from inside the barn.

Turn around, a sound voice in the back of his mind tries to reason with him. Go go back inside.

He ignores it, his legs moving forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching on the rocks in the dirt as he draws closer to you causes you to jump. Whirling around, you gasp and your free hand flies to your chest.

“M’sorry,” Joel quickly apologizes, holding up both his hands to show you he’s not a threat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Joel?” You’re surprised to see him.  “What are you doing out here?”

The area out behind the barn is just as dark as it is secluded, however, the moon is full, big, and bright, its silvery glow illuminating each and every single one of your features in such a beautiful way that it makes his throat go dry, just like it had earlier that evening when he’d first seen you in that dress.

“Well ain’t that funny. I was actually just ‘bout to ask you the same exact question, darlin’.” He falls into step beside you, leaning back against the fence. “What are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

“Oh, I just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” you reply with a small, light shrug of your shoulders. You turn back around, leaning your forearms on top of the wooden fence, both hands wrapped firmly around your glass of whiskey. You’re standing so close to Joel that your shoulder touches his, though neither of you make a move to put space in between your bodies. “What’s your excuse?”

“Needed a breather from Esther,” he confesses. 

It was partially the truth. 

He couldn’t tell you he’d really come outside to check on you.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you like her?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all,” Joel says, letting out a chuckle. He shakes his head. “She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight, y’know?” He pauses for just a brief second and crosses his arms over his chest, his sudden change in position causing his shoulder to press even closer against your own. “Tommy mentioned her to me when we were havin’ lunch together yesterday. Said he’d be willin’ to set us up, but I didn’t think his dumbass would actually follow through with it.”

Confused, you shoot him a strange look.

“I’d told him I wasn’t interested in meetin’ her, but Tommy’s always had a real habit of not listenin’ to me,” he remarks, shaking his head once again.

The question falls from your lips before you can even think about trying to stop it. “Why aren’t you interested in her?” you blurt. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and add in a nonchalant tone, “Esther’s gorgeous, Joel. Most guys around here would jump at the chance to be with her.”

“S’like I told you. She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight.”

“So then, what kind of company are you looking for?”

Joel hesitates, then answers honestly. “Yours.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, your heart skipping a nervous beat.

He tests the waters. “That alright to say?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to utter.

Fighting to take a steady, even breath, you clutch at your glass even harder. 

“Y’know, when I was on my way out here, I saw Ellie and Dina still sittin’ together,” Joel finally says after a minute or two, breaking the silence. “She honestly seems to be havin’ a real good time with her.” He nudges your shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turns to you and asks, “Now tell me why I’ve got this strange little feelin’ that you had somethin’ to do with that?”

Your immediate expression of guilt prompts his grin. 

You’d been caught red handed.

“Okay, so I may or may not have talked to Dina earlier today while we were setting up the barn for the party. I asked if she could do me a favor and at least try and talk to Ellie tonight,” you admit, sheepishly. “I told her about how much Ellie reminds me of her, and how I thought they would get along.” You feel his dark eyes fix themselves intently on you and the heat creeps to your cheeks as you continue to explain yourself to him. It’s only just now occurred to you that perhaps you should have ran the idea by Joel—he’s her guardian and the last thing you want to do is cross his boundaries. “It took a little convincing, but she agreed. Dina can still be quite shy sometimes, but she’s a really good girl, Joel. I promise.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Really? You did that?”

“Yeah. I did.” Anxiously, you take a long sip of liquor before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”

“‘Course it is, darlin’. I really appreciate you doin’ that for Ellie.” Joel’s gaze softens and meets yours with genuine sincerity. “I appreciate everythin’ that you’ve done for her. It means a lot to me. More than I can probably even explain.”

“I can tell how important she is to you.”

Joel nods. “Ellie’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He stops, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. “She’s been through a whole lot—a hell of a lot more than anyone her age should have to go through.” Once again, he pauses momentarily, trying to keep his emotions in check. He swallows harshly and subconsciously leans closer towards you without realizing it. “Ellie, she ain’t my blood, but she’s my daughter. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t take care of her. I thought that I didn’t have what it takes to protect her.”

“And what about now?”

“Now that we’re here, I feel real different ‘bout it all. I finally feel like I can keep Ellie safe, y’know? Give her the life she deserves,” Joel states, sounding a bit relieved, almost like he’s only just now made the realization that things are different now—it’s not like it was while they’d been out on the road. Each day isn’t a fight for survival, a game of trying to stay alive long enough just to see the next. Sleeping in the dirt, watching her go hungry, seeing her have to wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time, those were all now things of the past.

Pulling yourself back from the fence, you glance up at him with a curious expression. 

“Ellie hasn’t told me all that much about what she’s gone through—about what either of you have gone through.” You catch sight of the worry that flashes in his eyes and reassure him, “And I don’t plan on asking because it isn’t any of my business. But in the short time I’ve gotten to know Ellie, I’ve already seen it in her eyes, Joel. It’s all there.”

“What’s there?”

“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to her.”

Joel hangs his head. “Jesus.”

And just like that, he somehow feels like a fucking failure all over again.

“I know that you’re worried about her, Joel. I don’t blame you, but you’re doing all that you can do,” you remind him, the kindness in your voice bringing him the warmth and comfort he’s been needing for far too long. “You’re here in the community now and she’s safe. That’s what matters—all the rest is going to fall right into place soon enough. Just give her a bit of time and don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

Joel sighs. “I just want what’s best for her, y’know? Just like any normal parent would want for their kid.”

“And you are doing the best that you can, just like any normal parent would.” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his bare forearm, your thumb brushing his warm skin. Your mere touch sends a tingle up his spine, and he can’t help but wonder if the connection had done the same for you. “It’s easy to see how much you care about her. How much you love her.”

“I do love her,” he murmurs. It feels odd, almost foreign for him to say it out loud. Of course he loves Ellie, and although he’s fairly certain she knew that and she loved him too, those three specific words had never been exchanged between them, and he had a hunch they never would be. “All I want is to do right by her. After everythin’ she’s been through—I just want her to finally be happy.”

“That says a lot about the kind of man you are.”

Biting back a scoff, Joel shakes his head. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s a good person—you’d be horrified if you knew about all the blood that stained his hands, about all of the things he’d done in the last two decades to survive. He’d stolen, he’d destroyed, he’d murdered. He’d lied.

He was not a good man. 

Your hand drops away from his arm, a lot sooner than either of you would have liked.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks, deciding to switch the focus of the conversation onto you. “How’d you end up in good ol’ Jackson, Wyoming?” 

“You take another sip of your drink, which is now completely watered down by the melted ice in your glass. “Well, like I told you, I grew up in New Mexico on a horse ranch. It was me, my parents, and my little brother,” you start to explain. “After the outbreak happened, me and my family ended up in the Albuquerque QZ. We were there for quite some time, until there was a breach at one of the gates and the zone was overrun with infected.” You pause briefly as the memories of that night come flooding back. By now, you’ve repressed them enough that they don’t bring you to your knees the way they used to when you had been younger. “Me and my dad made it out alive, but my mom and my brother didn’t.”

Joel frowns. “Shit. M’real sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a tiny nod. “After me and my dad made it out of the zone, we found this group of people who were heading east, trying to get to Boston. It wasn’t long before everyone started to get picked off one by one—by infected, raiders, and even slavers. Somehow, me and my dad survived all that, but we found ourselves alone again. We were starving, had no shelter, and winter was just around the corner. We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do, and even though neither of us ever said it to each other, we were both so sure we were going to die. But then Tommy and his patrol group came across us one night. Once we proved that neither of us were infected, he brought us in.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Joel states. He never would have even guessed.

You just seemed so well put together.

“Haven’t we all?” You let out a humorless laugh.

A silence falls like a curtain over both of you, but it’s comfortable.

Tranquil. 

Although it had been a warmer night, it was now much later into the evening, and a chilly breeze whips its way through the settlement, whisking its cool and crisp fingers through your hair. It causes the white daisy you’d been wearing to fall, and the flower flutters to the ground, landing right in between Joel’s boots. Without giving it a second thought, he reaches down and picks it up, being careful as he gingerly dusts the dirt off of the delicate petals. He turns to you, tucking the flower back behind your ear. As his hand falls away from you, his index finger accidentally grazes the soft skin of your cheek, and every part of him floods with the burning desire to feel more of you.

“M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say—and you mean it. You can’t even remember the last time someone’s touch set you on fire like this. You’d been feeling cold and empty and numb for so long, and while all of the things that Joel’s making you feel had become almost foreign to you, they’re starting to reignite that spark of life inside of you that you thought you’d lost a long time ago.

From the inside of the barn, you and Joel hear the band begin to play their cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love. 

“Elvis, huh?” Joel muses with a hum. He sounds impressed.

You’re not sure if all the alcohol you’d been consuming throughout the evening has only now just decided to kick into full gear in your system or whether you really do just lack any kind of common sense, but you find yourself looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes. “How about another dance?”

His lips part slightly in surprise. “To this song?”

Every inch of your skin burns hot with embarrassment and your fingers curl tighter around your glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I really love to dance,” you sputter out nervously, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. You only dig yourself further into the hole as you continue to ramble. “Luke doesn’t like to dance. He never wants to dance with me—”

That’s all Joel had needed to hear.

He reaches for your glass, prying it out of your grasp. He sets it down on top of the fence and holds his hand out to you. “I’ll dance with you, darlin’.”

Looking up at him in surprise, you accept and place your hand in his. His other hand finds your waist and the two of you begin swaying along to the music—a smile that could light up the entire town breaks out across your face. 

Joel didn’t know Luke, but he couldn’t fathom how the man you were married to wouldn’t do just about anything to see that smile.

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t dance,” you tease, noticing that he’s leading you.

Flashing you a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Guess the kid was right. I ain’t so bad for fifty six with creakin’ knees.”

Remembering Ellie’s words from earlier, you throw your head back and laugh.

His stomach turns, twisting in a tangle of desire and nerves.

You’re married.

But that does nothing to stop the want, the need. 

For either of you.

Being in his arms, it’s wrong.

It’s more than an innocent dance—it’s the beginning of something that’s bound to lead to nothing but trouble and you both know it.

Joel continues to lead you and begins singing along to the familiar lyrics, quietly, but just loud enough for you to hear the sultry richness of his voice. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he sings, subconsciously giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be.��

Impressed, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a nice voice, Joel.”

“Y’think so?”

You nod. “I do. What, were you a singer in your first life or something?”

“Close.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I was a contractor,” Joel replies, grinning as he elicits another sweet laugh from you. “Owned my own construction business with Tommy. I did enjoy singin’ though—and playin’ the guitar too. But it was a hobby more than anythin’ since I don’t think music would’ve paid the bills.”

You smile up at him. “Oh, well now you’re going to have to play the guitar for me sometime. Maybe even treat me to a whole song?”

“I still owe Ellie a song,” he remembers, shaking his head. “But I don’t have a guitar, so it gets me out of it.”

“Well then, we’re going to have to find you one and when we do, you’ll have to play something for us,” you tell him. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Joel agrees without thinking. He starts singing along to the lyrics again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too—” 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” You try not to laugh again at the shock on his face as you finished the lyric for him.

“Hey now, you’ve got a real nice voice yourself, darlin’.”

Darlin’. 

You shouldn’t let him call you that.

Out of respect for your husband, you should tell him it’s not okay. None of this is okay.

But it is okay. 

“Oh, now you’re just trying to flatter me, Miller,” you accuse him, playfully. 

The song ends and neither of you make a move to let go of one another.

Joel’s eyes fall to your pretty, plush lips and it takes every ounce of strength he has inside of him not to lean down and press his own lips against them.

Finally, he forces himself to let you go and takes a step backward, clearing his throat. “I should, uh—I should go and find Ellie so I can get her home. S’gettin’ kinda late.”

You nod, your heart slamming painfully against your sternum. “Of course,” you say, slightly breathless. “I’ll come along with you so I can say goodnight to her.”

As the two of you make your way around the barn and back towards the entrance, Joel sees a tall, slender man with short dark hair approaching. He’d called out your name and something inside Joel’s mind just clicks together—he knows exactly who the man is before you’ve even had a chance to open your mouth and say his name.

“Luke?” Stopping abruptly in your tracks, you stiffen and squeak out his name. “What—what are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey.” He comes up to you and immediately takes your arm, pulling you from Joel’s side and over to his. “Tommy told me you might be out here. I was just coming to look for you.”

It takes thirty seconds for Joel to size him up. Luke’s younger than himself, definitely closer in age to Tommy—somewhere around his mid to late forties. He’s a lot more clean cut than most of the other rugged men in the commune with his short, neatly kept dark hair and a clean shaven face. Though he’s on the thinner side, he’s in decent shape, but Joel’s wider, broader and far, far more intimidating.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again.

“Now, is that really how a loving wife should greet her husband?” Luke laughs, pulling you even closer into his side. 

Joel isn’t all too fond of the way he’s holding you. 

He’s rough, harsh.

“I decided to come and check it out. See what all the fuss is about,” Luke says. He glances at Joel, his green eyes giving him a once over—sizing him up, just like Joel had done to him. “Don’t be rude, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”

You speak softly, almost too softly.

“Luke, this is Joel Miller.”

“Ah. You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

Joel tries not to sound too curt, but fails. “That’s right.”

“Joel, this is Luke.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you introduce your spouse. “He’s my husband.”

Luke extends a courteous hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joel.” His other hand finds and takes yours. “I do hope that my wife here hasn’t been bothering you tonight. She can be quite the little chatterbox. Makes me wish she came with a mute button sometimes.”

Joel’s dark eyes briefly flit to Luke’s hand holding yours, taking note of the way he’s gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Between that and the comment he’d just made about you, Joel had every fucking desire to connect his fist to the side of Luke’s face.

“Luke, please,” you whisper, throwing him a tiny glare. 

“Oh come on now, honey. Where did your sense of humor go? You know I’m only joking,” Luke states, squeezing your hand a little harder, causing you to squirm.

Something tells Joel he’s not kidding around.

He’d meant what he had said.

“She hasn’t been a bother at all,” Joel speaks in your defense. “Actually, I came out here to talk to her and to thank her for bein’ so kind to my kid, Ellie. Your wife here, she’s been nothin’ but good to her since we arrived.”

“Well, as long as she wasn’t being a bother.” Luke glances down at you. “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few people that I still need to see and say hello to inside. Come along, honey.” He glances at Joel, a strange glint in his eye as he tells him, “Welcome to Jackson, Joel.”

His jaw clenches as he watches him drag you into the barn.

Nothing about Luke sat right with him.

The way he’d spoken to you, touched you, treated you.

And then there was you.

The light had instantly left your eyes the second he’d come around. 

Something wasn’t right.

A rough hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts.

“Really, Joel? Really? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy hisses, yanking him over to the side of the barn where nobody would overhear him. “What the fuck did I tell you yesterday in the mess hall?”

“The hell are you fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

His brother glares at him. “I know that you ain’t as fuckin’ dumb as you look, Joel. What the fuck were you doin’ out here alone with her? Huh?”

Joel purses his lips together tightly in silence.

What had he seen?

Having read his mind, Tommy shoves his shoulder. “You were dancin’ with her you fuckin’ asshole? Did you fuckin’ forget that she’s a married woman?”

Joel rolls his eyes at him and aggressively shoves his hand off of his shoulder. “We were just dancin’ together, alright? Ain’t like we were makin’ out, Tommy. Can you fuckin’ relax?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Joel! If I saw any man that wasn’t me dancin’ with Maria like that, I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’d kick his fuckin’ ass,” he spits. “Her husband just showed up to the goddamn party. You’re fuckin’ lucky that it was me who saw you out there with her and not him. What if he’d seen you two? Then what?”

“Christ, Tommy. Relax,” Joel tries again to calm him. “It was just a dance, alright? It was nothin’ more than that. Okay?”

“You listen to me and you listen to me good, ‘cause I ain’t fuckin’ gonna say it again, big brother. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout her. I don’t need you to go around stirrin’ up any kind of trouble,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “We can’t have that kinda shit here. Maria won’t tolerate it, and y’know what, I won’t either. Don’t fuckin’ cause problems. Got it?”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Joel mutters, bitterly.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him.

“Just fuckin’ watch yourself, Joel,” he warns. “I fuckin’ mean it.”

[hyperfixationgoddess]

Inspired by the fanfiction link above; kind of an aftermath scenario. I love the idea of Wayne being extra protective of Steve after Steve saved Eddie's life, and getting even more protective of him after he and Eddie start dating. What can I say, I'm a Wayne Munson simp. Also, while I might not have a lot of respect for him anymore, see if you can find the John Mulaney quote I slipped in here! @artiststarme I hope you like it!

Finally Protected

Wayne Munson was a lot of things. A salty grump, a loner, an uncle, a father.

But most of all, he was loyal.

Once someone earned his loyalty, it lasted for life. He would stick with them through thick and thin, and defend them against anyone. And against all odds, Steve Harrington had earned his loyalty.

Anyone with eyes could see that Steve was head over heels in love with Wayne's boy. Which was why he could not comprehend why it was Steve who was on the receiving end of all these goddamn shovel talks.

Found family, my ass, he thought to himself. Even that Buckley girl had given Steve a talk. Were they all stupid? They'd known Steve, really known him, for much longer than Wayne or Eddie had. How could they still think that Steve would hurt anyone, much less Eddie?

The worst thing about it was, Wayne knew that Steve would forgive them. It didn't matter how many times the Party hurt him, Steve would just shrug it off, like his feelings didn't matter. And considering Steve had already earned the loyalty of the Munsons, Wayne had a problem with that.

A big problem.

The day after Eddie apologized and the two boys made up, Wayne dropped by to talk to Steve. Even as he settled on the couch in the living room, he could see the tension in Steve's shoulders.

"You can relax, kiddo," he said. "I'm not mad at ya. Not here to give you another goddamn shovel talk, either."

Steve's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

Wayne nodded. "Eddie's an adult now, and he knows how to take care of himself. No, I'm here to talk about the rest of the Party."

Steve looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Wayne sighed. "Boy, you need to set some boundaries with these people."

"Boundaries?"

"Steve, I know this ain't the first time these folks have hurt you. Lord knows Eddie has gone on many rants about how the kids keep calling you an idiot, or how the Wheeler girl cheated on you after 'she ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it.' Eddie's words, by the way."

Steve looked uncomfortable, now. "Well, the kids are just messing around. And I shouldn't have tried to hold on to Nancy the way I did."

"The kids are old enough now to learn how to mess around without being disrespectful. And Nancy should have been honest with you instead of leading you on," Wayne countered.

Steve still looked apprehensive. Wayne sighed (again-he'd been doing that a lot lately).

"Look, Steve, I'm not saying you have to cut them out of your life. I know that'd be devastating for ya. But just letting them hurt you, and not saying a word about it... You deserve better than that."

Steve's eyes misted over. "No, I don't," he choked out. When Wayne opened his mouth to protest, the kid shook his head rapidly. "You don't understand, Mr. Munson, I was a really bad person in high school. The things I said about people... I'd tear them down without a second thought. I-"

Sensing that Steve was about to go on a self deprecating tangent, Wayne cut him off.

"Did you know that Eddie used to rant about you?"

This seemed to startle the kid. "Um... What?"

Wayne chuckled. "Yeah, I won't go into details, but he was very vocal about how much you bugged him... But then, out of nowhere, in 1984, he stopped. I asked him why, because I was curious. Do you know what he said?"

Steve gulped. "What?"

"He said, and I quote, 'he hasn't actually been an asshole in a while, and now that everyone else is trying to kick him down, I don't want to contribute to that.' You made a change, Steve. Not many people are willing to do that. Hell, most ain't even willing to believe that there's something wrong with em. But you were. I'll keep telling you, as many times as I have to for it to sink in. You don't deserve to be hurt."

The tears Steve had been holding back this whole time finally seemed to overwhelm him. Wayne scooched over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"You've had to be strong for so long, kid. Let me look after you, yeah? Lord knows you deserve protection just as much as Eddie does."

Steve didn't answer, but he nodded. That was enough for now.

--0--

Wayne had been pacing around Steve's living room for about ten minutes when he finally heard the doorbell ring. It would appear that this group traveled as a pack, because every single member of the party was there.

That is, every member but two.

"Mr. Munson?" Dustin asked confusedly. "What's going on? Where's Steve?"

Wayne grunted. "All of ya just come in. I'll explain once you get settled. And I'm sayin this now, I expect you all to listen."

When everyone was sitting around the living room, Hopper was the first to speak up. "So Wayne, what's going on? Where's the kid?"

Wayne scowled. "If you mean Steve, he's at my trailer with Eddie. If that were big enough, we'd be there instead, but there's too many of you, and I need you all to hear this."

The Buckley girl looked extremely confused. "Why would you want us here if Steve isn't?"

Wayne took a deep breath in an attempt to control his anger. "Because it would seem to me that you lot forget just how much that boy does for all of you."

Joyce furrowed her brow. "Um... What?"

"You folks got a lot of nerve, acting like Steve is the one who's gonna hurt Eddie. He ain't a ticking time bomb, and you gotta stop treating him like it. After everything he's done for you lot, it astounds me how you can still treat him like crap. Found family, my ass."

Nancy Wheeler opened her mouth with an angry expression, but Wayne cut her off. "Don't go acting so high and mighty, Wheeler. Did you even realize that Steve still flinches when anyone uses the word bullshit? You tore his heart out of his chest and stomped on it, and then slept with another guy before you even broke up with Steve properly."

That seemed to shut her up. Good.

"And as for you kids, how many times has Steve taken a beating for you? The only ones that I've seen being respectful to him are Will and El. The rest of you... You've all been the victims of bullies, according to Steve. So explain to me, how in the hell can you justify the way you all treat him on a daily basis? Insulting his intelligence, bossing him around, disregarding the work he's done to change, all of that has to stop."

The kids tried to protest, but Wayne was on a roll. He rounded on Joyce, Hopper, and Robin. "Hopper, Joyce, Eddie is my kid. He ain't your responsibility. You had no right to give Steve that goddamn shovel talk as if he were still the guy he was in high school. And you, Miss Buckley? You call yourself Steve's best friend. You might wanna try acting like it.

"Now, I know that Steve sees you all as family. That's the only reason I ain't told him to cut you folks out of his life. But Steve has got no standard for how he should be treated as a human being. Whether you lot realize it or not, you've all taken advantage of that. He thinks that he deserves it, but I've seen the effort he makes every day to be better than he was. Most won't even accept that they need to be better, and it would seem that you folks are a part of that majority. I know that he deserves better, and I ain't even known him a whole year. That says something about you, don't it?

"Now, you are going to give Steve as much space as he needs. You won't ask him to babysit, you won't ask him to chauffeur you around, you won't ask him for money. You'll take some time to think about how you've treated him. And when you feel you're ready to apologize-not because of guilt or obligation, but because you mean it-you tell me. I'll let Steve know. But only when Steve is ready to see you all again, and not a second more, will I let you talk to him."

Wayne shared a vicious smile with El and Will, and then looked at the rest of them with a raised eyebrow.

"Now get the hell out of my future son-in-law's house."

Fin

[reveluving]

Hii!

I was just thinking Price with a wife who is insecure about her body because of things like stretch marks or chub finally working up the courage to do something like lingerie or naughty photos as a surprise for him ;D

Hi!! OMG. SWEATING. As someone who has stretch marks and a little 'cushion' here and there, plus is also a big fan of this trope(?), this thot is CALLING me! 😩🤌🏻

Includes: soft dom!price, unprotected sex (p in v), finger-sucking, size difference, petnames ('pretty girl', 'sweetheart'), mentions of lap dance/strip tease

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

No matter which lingerie suits your fancy, just know it will give your husband a heart attack. 

Why wouldn’t it? He already loves you for who you are—you can do the most mundane things and he’ll stare. A lot. You could be wearing anything, even if you think it doesn’t suit you, and he’d have to fight the urge to just have you for himself, be it at home or in public.

So, you want to thank your husband for being the hunky sweetheart that he is. 

He wouldn’t be home until a few hours, giving you enough time to execute your plan.

Hiding the lingerie you bought days prior is one thing, posing for the camera is another. The thought of having your ass up, face down or the strap of your bra or babydoll fall off your shoulders in front of the lens just causes your body to heat up immensely, even if it's just you. Possibly because it’s your first time taking photos of yourself in such a deliciously scandalous manner, but it also could’ve been due to the fact that you know exactly how John is going to react to them.

Especially since you’re planning to gift these polaroids for when he needs to leave for work—with no way to have you with him except for these priceless photos, specifically made for his eyes and use only.

But three polaroids aren’t enough for him to survive the field without you. 

Because as soon as he comes home to find these photos on the table, placed under his hat for his next deployment in the near future, expect to hear heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom, where you’re likely waiting for him—being struck dumb to find you sitting prettily on the bed in your new piece. 

His eyes are blown out, and you can’t help but gulp when he closes the door behind him too calmly before walking over to you. The way he stalks over to you ever so slowly prompts you to crawl back. Not because you’re scared, but you had to admit, your heart’s beating wildly, even more so when he begins taking off his clothes without uttering a word.

Your nails dig into the sheets when you have nowhere to go, feeling the headboard against your back as he traps you from the front—resembling a predator hunting its prey. 

“John…” You mutter, letting out a shaky sigh as he slides his hand up your leg, biting his lip at the sight; the stockings/garter belt squeezing the plush of your thighs just enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t even give you a second to utter his name once again when he yanks you forward, with John on his knees as he holds you to sit on his thighs, forcing you to look down at him.

“S’a really nice piece, sweetheart,” He purrs, his voice telling you that he’s holding himself back from just fucking you. He licks on the deep cleavage, the small, thin material leaving little to his imagination as it barely covers your tits, all while maintaining eye contact as a guttural groan leaves his lips. One of his hands moves to your front, playing with the hem of your stocking/garter belt, pulling it back before releasing it. His lips part in delight, almost mirroring the way you gasp as the tight material slaps against you with a light smack, “Is this all f’me?”

You nodded with the tiniest whine, holding onto him like he was your lifeline. 

Ignoring the dampness of your panties was useless since you knew he could feel it against his thigh. His stare becomes too much for you, and you can’t do anything else other than rest your forehead against his, feeling his warm breath against you just as he feels yours and begging him to have you. 

And how can he say no to you?

Especially since you’ve been a good girl at posing for him as he takes countless photos of you on the polaroids—from the more ‘innocent ones’ like having you drool on his fingers (“Suck on them real good. That’s it, my pretty girl”) to the lewder displays, where he has you on your side, taking you from behind before taking a picture or two your pussy tightly gripping and leaking around the base of his cock.

Now he knows he won’t be alone in his next deployment.

Bonus: Him asking you for a lap dance or a strip tease for him as he sits all smug at the edge of the bed or the bedroom chair. He does this thing where he throws his head back and bucks his hips when you rub yourself against him. Yes.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[as-is-above-so-below]

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO << Previous | Next >>

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history. 

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. 

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm. 

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[bellarkeselection]

Kacey Dutton x reader

Readers out with kayce she hears a familiar voice and knows it's her abusive ex so she starts to run but kayce follows her in the restroom she tells him kayce calms her down " stay with me "

Dutton's Are Better

We got off of the truck walking inside the local bar. I found a spot near the bar that had two empty bar stools available. The bartender came over and we each got a beer. Kayce shifted the black cowboy hat on his head looking at me. “Sorry this isn't nothing fancy for date night.” 

“It doesn’t have to be. I've had a whole life of it.” Turning my head in the direction of the young Dutton. 

Kayce sent me a smile back. “Yeah.” 

Kayce and I had met the day after his sister came into a confrontation between her and my father Roarke Morris. The company he works for wants to build an apartment on the land that the reservation and the Dutton families own. I first believed it was a good idea to make some change but seeing it now it would be horrible to ruin this place. “So what is so different about this date night then any of our others.” 

“Why do you want to know?” He asked me sitting his beer bottle down in front of him. 

I take a drink from my bottle. “You told me this was going to be a little different than our others. I wanna know how?” 

At first we thought we'd always be enemies for as long as my father wanted to help destroy his way of life. He showed me the ranch one day when I was curious and wished to see it for myself. From that evening on some spark was born that we couldn't deny. Kayce reaches down into his pocket while getting down from his stool. “I was thinking we did this back at the ranch. But here works too I guess if you don't need some big spectacle.” 

“Kayce, I'm serious. You could propose to me with a lollipop ring for all I care and I'd be happy  - wait, are you actually proposing?” 

Sure enough before my eyes Kayce John Dutton lowered himself down on one knee. “Y/n, I love you. I didn't think I would give my heart to anyone else after my divorce and then you came around. I thought we were going to tear the other apart by how much we fought. But somehow we've made it past that. So will you marry me?” 

“Yes. I will-” 

“Y/n, is that you?” My entire body froze where I spun on my feet seeing a familiar guy walking up to me. 

I gulped nervously, bolting away from Kayce only uttering one name I wished I could forget. “Dylan…” Spinning in my boots throwing my hair around in the air leaving the young Dutton on a knee in front of me. 

“Y/n!” Kayce called my name getting up from the ground. 

Rushing my way through the hallway to the bathroom I pushed through the door. Shutting it behind myself I plastered my body up against the door. “He can’t be here now…he said he would never live out here.” 

“Y/n, hey are you okay?” I heard Kaycee’s voice on the other side. 

I croaked feeling a tightness in my chest beginning to form. “I’m fine, Kayce. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Did I do something wrong. I should have listened to Beth when she said proposing was too soon for us.” 

I snapped at him. “No that’s not it.” 

“Then what has you freaked out?” Kayce asked with concern in his tone. 

I slowly turned around on my feet staring at the door figuring he was standing on the other side of the wooden door. “I saw my ex Dylan say my name out there. I never thought I’d see that abusive asshole again in my life.” Threading my fingers into my hair I knotted it up, sniffing through tears I didn’t want him to hear me sobbing. 

“Y/n, listen to me. Please let me in. I can hear you crying darling.” Kayce spoke to me and before I knew it he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stands in front of me gently closing the door behind him so we had privacy and locked it too. “Y/n?…”

I parted my mouth open slightly, mumbling out his name until I broke down sobbing. “Kayce…” 

“Woah hey hey. Come here, darling.” He paused, opening his arms out for me. I raced into his embrace clutching the fabric of his brown jacket in my finger tips. 

I cried into his chest for the next few minutes until I lifted my head up and he wiped the fallen tears on my cheeks. “What if he’s here to try and win me back?” 

“That won’t be happening, baby. I love you and I’m hoping that you feel the same and I can slip a ring on ya. That sends a clearer message than anything…but only if you want to.” 

I squeezed his hands in mine realizing I never told him my answer. “Yes, yes I'll marry you Kayce.” 

He smiled reaching inside his jacket drawing out a ring. The ring was simple with one jewel in the middle that I got to look at when he slid it on my finger. “Don't worry about Dylan if he tries to come over and touch you I'll set him straight.” Kayce holds out his freehand and grabbed the door to open it with his other hand. 

“Thank you, Kayce.” I placed my hand in his and we walked back to our seats. The evening went fine till we tried to leave so Kayce did end up knocking my ex on the ground with a punch. Thankfully no charges were put on him since we later found out from the sheriff that my ex Dylan was plastered drunk. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[abiiors]

HI HELLO HI this is a half-formed, fully horny, wedding guest ross concept. i'm not fully back to writing yet but ross in white is a damn good muse!!!!

cw: minors dni!!! smut, finger fucking in a bathroom, alcohol consumption, smoking, typos probably-i wrote this at work

you haven't really met a lot of john's friends yet, that's probably why you don't remeber seeing this handsome stranger across the bar, cigarette dangling between his fingers, a glass of whiskey in his hands that he sips from so lazily.

he's busy in conversation, you're busy gawking at him, wondering how you've never seen him before (and this you're sure of because let's face it, there's no way you're forgetting this man if you'd ever had the chance to talk to him before.) much to your surprise, he's alone--well, his group of friends is there and he seems particularly close with the groom but there's no date in sight. at least you hope not, because you've definitely caught him staring a few times--long, hard, lingering stares that make you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust.

"this seat taken?" he comes up from behind you just when you're think he's too busy socialising. you smile to yourself, throw him a coy smile too.

"not if you're the one asking."

"is that right?" he smirks and settles into the chair. up close he's hotter somehow--the white shirt clings to him in ways that have you drooling. he takes a quick drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke to one side.

"ross," he introduces himself quickly, "no one told me there would be gorgeous bridesmaids."

you take a sip of your wine and tsk, "'m not a bridesmaid."

"so you're not off limits then?"

"off limits for...?"

he takes a sip of his whisky and leans in, almost like he's about to divulge a secret. then he looks you up and down slowly, gaze landing on your lips. you get the vague sense that he's undressing you in his head, and it sends heat swirling in your gut. "don't pretend like you weren't undressing me with your eyes, darling."

"and if i admitted to it?" you challenge, "what will you do about it?"

ross leans even closer, his breath fanning your face, his fingers are on your wrist, cool from the whiskey and deliciously callused. he draws circles on the skin. "i hear the first floor bathroom is not open to guests."

"is that right?" you mimic him, smirking when he nods.

"we can sneak in though. if you want?"

in one quick gulp you finish your wine and stand, smoothing down your dress that reaches just past your knees. he's up in an instant too, towering over you and so close that you can practically taste the heat radiating off him.

"lead the way," you giggle and he takes your hand in his.

--------------------

the marble edges of the countertop dig into your ass, his fingers dig into your thighs, and yet all of that simply fades to the background when you kiss--hungry and feverish, teeth clashing against each other, your lip caught between his teeth until you hiss and he slips his tongue in.

his hand snakes down your side, effortlessly undoing the hidden zip until you feel cool breeze against your ribs, and then his fingers--his big, warm, rough fingers, tracing the visible skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

hastily you loosen his tie and move on to his belt, fumbling with it until it's almost undone. ross laughs into your mouth.

"so impatient!" he tsks, "is that how much you want me?"

"the undressing with my eyes didn't give it away?" you retort, and finally undo the belt, sliding it out of the hooks and off his waist. it goes flying in some corner of the bathroom, clinks against a wall.

"turn," he pants, and the moment you obey, his hand are on the straps, pulling them down and off your shoulders until the dress falls just below your chest.

"fuck, darling!" he curses at the sight in the mirror--you, utterly breathless with messy hair and swollen lips. your peaked nipples are fully on display now. his eyes turn darker, taking you in hungrily, then he moves.

the moment his fingers close around your nipples, you moan, head thrown back and eyes closed and ass backed into his crotch where you can feel him completely. he's painfully hard and deliciously big and just the thought of him in you makes you clench around nothing.

"oh you are testing me," you grit out, desperate to be touched. his fingers circling your nipples feels good, his hand snaking down your body feels good, but you need more and more and more, you need him until everything other memory in you brain is replaced by the feel of his cock pounding into you.

he laughs, mouth hot on your neck, "what would you like me to do then?"

"touch me!" you hiss.

"like this?" his hand snakes down, bunching up the fabric of your dress until it's lifted up and around your waist. you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting, shivering when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh--up and up and up and---

"oops," ross grins, and rips the flimsy lacy underwear off you in one smooth motion. you gape at him in the mirror, but then his fingers are on you, circling your clit at a delicious pace and the buzzing in your head grows so loud, you forget the stupid underwear and forget the cold marble digging into your hips.

you moan, clutching on to the countertops when your knees threaten to buckle. "yes--god, yes, like that..."

tentatively he dips a finger in you and your breath hitches. ross clearly likes the reaction because a moment later he plunges a finger inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, thrusting the finger in and out and in and out until without warning he adds a second and you have to bite on the palm of your hands to stifle your scream.

"fuck, you'll kill me with those sounds you make," he growls in your ear, and increases his pace. you barely care to answer, mumbling something in gibberish, entirely focused on the feel of his fingers dipping in and out of you, of his thumb pressing into your clit and his cock digging into your ass.

heaven...is exactly how you'd describe it. your body agrees too--tensing and tensing until you're panting and barely even controlling the moans anymore. fuck it, it's fine if anyone walks in at this point. you and ross can put on a good show!

"'m so close," you moan, "ke-keep going, shit!"

and he does, his other hand snakes around your hips, holding you in place so he can reach deeper, hit your sweet spot with his long, thick fingers every time. your head spins, overwhelmed, dizzy and---

there's no warning like there usually is, all you know is that your vision goes white, your body feels slack and with a cry you cum all over his hand, holding onto the countertop to stay upright somehow. ross holds you too, dipping his fingers in and out slowly so you can ride out your orgasm. his hand feels wet and slick, your release coating his fingers. he looks like he's enjoying it though...

the moment you open your eyes, he holds your jaw in place, making you look at him in the mirror, them he places his fingers on his tongue, licking and sucking every corner, making you watch the filthy scene unfolding, making you wetter by the minute somehow.

"delicious," he moans, right in your ear. "ready for round two?"

you bite your lip and nod. "ready for round two."

[aforestescape]

ghoap x gn!reader

inspired by soaps mic collar. id love to make that man whimper. also i’m a simon lover at heart if you didn’t know:)

you’re all a few drinks in at the pub, listening to simon bicker on with kyle about some reality show they’d been watching. curtesy the influence of introducing them to your cousins who loved a snarky drama show. if you knew it would have led to heated conversations while you’re busy trying to get drunk, you probably wouldn’t have done it.

you and john share a look of stilted amusement before taking another gulp of your drink. eyes fleeting over the crowded bar until they land on johnny up at the counter. one well defined arm leaned against the counter, far too big for the tight shirt he’s sporting. that award winning grin on his face as he chats with some bloke next to him. you keep your eyes on them, taking a drink again to wash away the feelings that try to surface.

you were the newest addition to the group. somehow you’d ended up staying along with the four men. it wasn’t something you were used to, team dynamics. sticking to one place for so long to actually find yourself enjoying the company of your teammates. you’d always been an expendable asset. more of a freelancer to help assist other teams missions from the sidelines. but you’d found it hard to want to leave after the months long mission you’d been assigned to with 141.

you’d always been intuitive and from the moment you first met them all you could feel something settling inside of you. a small inkling in the back of your mind that you had time to get used to these people. so when the assignment ended and you sat across from price in his office going over last minute paperwork you couldn’t find yourself regretting agreeing to another mission with them.

the added bonus to the camaraderie, the playful banter and dynamics that felt closer to family than that of coworkers was just how attractive they were. simons cold indifference was similar to you in some ways, it’s the type of men you’d gone for in the past. ones who’s shells needed to be slowly cracked open before you could get a glimpse of what might be inside. it was all too easy to give dry laughs back to his terrible dad jokes. to make sure you kept your voice low when you talked to him, fingers moving in rusty form to talk back with him.

he didn’t like speaking. he could, of course. he had to when they were out on the field, during the times when they had to go, go, go with enemies right down the corridor, chasing them down. but when they were back on base, even on nights like tonight he’d be quiet for so long his voice would be hollower than normal when he finally spoke.

and you couldn’t possibly not have noticed the way he looked at johnny. their dynamic felt untouchable to you. how easily they fell into kilter with each other. the way simons eyes always tracked the mohawked man had your eyes following along. wanting to catch a glimpse of the man he saw. maybe a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have understood so much why his gaze felt like it could burn you in proximity.

but now you could. you’re sure your gaze burned just as hard as your eyes stayed on johnny.

johnny was smart, no denying it. he was analytical and loved to run probabilities with you. on the days following your post mission you’d end up sitting next to each other and he’d ask your thoughts on the people passing by. you figured he only sat still long enough because you entertained him as he quickly divulged into ramblings on how the stranger walking by was running late to his meeting since he found the missus’ with the neighbor. he supported her though since the guy was obviously a wanker, look at his scarf.

it’s not until he’s back at the table, drink in hand that he got for free and grinning at you that you decide that professionalism isn’t enough to stop you from what you want. he takes his seat next to you, thick thighs brushing yours as he goes off on a story about what just happened with the guy. you suppose it might be funny because the rest of the group laugh at what he says but your eyes are glued to his neck.

ignoring the rest of the group you lean over to him slightly, cold fingers from touching your drink grazing his neck as you touch the black leather choker round his neck. fingertips slipping past the fabric to hook it in your grasp before tugging on it.

“you like being collared johnny? why’re you still wearing this.”

your eyes track the swallow of his adams apple, trailing up to catch his tongue swipe over his lips and the blue of his eyes.

“can’t take it off myself,” he says, voice quieter than normal. you raise an eyebrow, mind processing as simon picks up to respond.

“i’ve got the key. you wan’ him you’ll have to ask nicely.”

wrote this a while ago but i wasn’t happy with it so it sat in my drafts. i had a passing in my family recently so my post are probably going to be even more sparse soz

[on-a-lucky-tide]

i am here thinking again. what could be the moment that price catches nikolai off-guard for once? surely even the smoothest men can be caught lacking, eh?

Nik has an allergic reaction to viagra and gives Price a small fright.

cw: allergic reaction, erectile dysfunction

"Nik, ah, Nik, stop."

Price shoved Nik's shoulders and tried to shuffle up the bed from beneath him. Something wasn't bloody right. Nik was mute, none of the usual guttural moans, or slurred Russian filth, delirious with pleasure. Nik was vocal. It was part of the fun and it got Price goin' like little else.

Hell, this was the first time they had fucked in months due to a range of different reasons, from clashing missions to meetings to Nik's schedule, and Price was expecting Nik to be ravenous. Instead, he seemed to be struggling; his brow creased, his eyes foggy.

Nik slumped to the side, propped on his elbow, his big chest heaving. "John, is there... was something wrong?"

"Yeah, you, I'm worried... Nik, look at me, oi, look at me." Price grabbed Nik's chin and lifted his head from where it was tilted forward. "Bloody 'ell, you don't look right. Think it was the resta--? Nik? Nik!"

Nik stumbled from the bed, almost tripping over the tangle of blankets and pillows wrapped around his legs. He just about made it to the toilet before the expensive three course meal and the few glasses of Macallan they'd knocked back after became a wasted investment.

Price walked into the en suite after him, rubbing a warm palm over his back. "Ay, you're alrigh', deep breaths between." As Nik's body continued to seize and tense, Price looked the rest of him over. There were hives on the back of the hands grasping the toilet bowl and his skin was cold to the touch, clammy, not the flushed heat it should have been from sex. "Nik, 'm gonna call the infirmary."

"Nyet!" Nik near shouted into the toilet bowl, reaching out to grab Price just behind the knee before he could walk away. "Nyet, John... It will pass."

"Don't be a muppet. They'll give you a look over and make sure you don't need A&E." Price grabbed one of his travel mugs and filled it with water from the tap. Nik took it from him in a shaking hand and managed several gulps before slumping back against the wall, throwing the toilet seat down as he went. His chin fell to his chest, one forearm slanted across a raised knee.

"This... This is self-inflicted," Nik said. "I am already embarrassed enough."

Price squinted, sitting slowly on the toilet lid, nudging the flush down with his elbow. "Start talkin'. This ain't like you. And if I don't think you're bein' honest, I'm callin' Janie."

"She is the doctor who signed you off for your ACL surgery."

"The very same."

"I would be in trouble."

"Yeah, loads. Stop delaying."

Nik sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes before his palm flattened to his chest. Price could see the flush of shame up his neck, the way his eyes stayed fixed on the floor rather than look up as he spoke. "I have an allergy to sildenafil."

Price wracked his brains and then huffed an incredulous laugh. "Viagra, Nik, I..."

When Nik turned his face away, swallowing, Price wanted to kick himself with steel toe-capped size twelves for being an arsehole of a partner.

"Ay, ay, don't... I'm sorry, that was... I was just... Why the fuck are you takin' viagra?"

Nik's jaw twitched from where his teeth were clenched, and he wiped one big hand down his face. The shame rolling off of him was palpable. "I am having... problems."

"Are they... Are we talkin' life-threatening problems?"

"Nyet. I simply cannot... it will not... you know," Nik waved his hand vaguely, "I... I was screened for some things. They said perhaps it is nerve damage from some shrapnel in my back, or perhaps it is all in my head, but I am... too ashamed to pursue more."

Price slipped from the toilet to sit at Nik's side against the wall, gently sliding his hand into the one dangling over his knee. Nik always spoke openly about sex, about their relationship, chuckling when Price squirmed and blushed like a prude. To watch him fumble and close up made Price's heart ache. "Why'd ya not tell me?"

Nik huffed dismissively, still looking away. "Da, how to say to your handsome, vigorous partner that you are unable to satisfy him in bed? That your body is... useless. That you are less than a man."

"Oh yeah, so the obvious solution is to take viagra, which you are violently allergic to. Absolute banger of a solution, Nik. Top marks," Price squeezed his hand, "and all this B.S. about bein' less than a man? Wind it in. It's bollocks."

"Zatknis, John..."

"Yer a smart man, Nik. But sometimes yer a..."

"...Muppet."

"Yeah, one of those," Price growled. "Yer seein' Janie in the mornin'. Not just for the allergy, for the lot."

"John, I cannot, it--"

"It could be a lot of things. Some of them more dangerous than others. Mine was stress."

Nik looked up quickly. "You have...?"

"Oh yeah. Mine stopped workin' fer about seven months five years ago. Coincided with a few large scale international fuck ups, a crammed schedule, an injury and some physio. Couldn't get it up fer the hottest piece of arse on Grindr, even if ya paid me."

"I did not know..."

"Course you didn't, we weren't exactly bumpin' uglies back then, were we?"

Nik smiled. "You have such a way with words..."

"Mhm." Price stroked his thumb over the back of Nik's hand, studying his face carefully. "You solid? No tight throat? You can breathe? There's an epipen in the first aid kit in the hallway."

"I am fine. This... It was similar when I tested it, but without the--" he gestured at the toilet, "my breathing is fine. I would... like to go to bed."

"Course." Price climbed to his feet, grunting at the clashing sensation of clicking knees and a numb arse, before helping Nik do the same. "Brush yer bloody teeth so I can kiss you."

Nik huffed softly. "Da."

When they climbed back into bed, Price kissed Nik gently, and then gathered him to his chest. Nik rested his ear over Price's heart and Price stroked his fingers through his hair. There was no fuckin' way he was sleeping that night. He'd stay awake and watch Nik sleep, listening to his slow breathing, checking the pulse at his neck. In the morning, he would let Janie eviscerate him for being so laissez faire with his health.

Then, and only then, they were gonna have a long chat about honesty, openness and trust. Cause knowing that Nik would rather poison himself than 'fail' Price in any way - regardless of how legitimate Nik felt that belief was - left Price with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

[darkroomkisses]

I Know What You Really Are (Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, Dubious Consent,Smut, Dark Rafe Cameron, Slut Shaming, degradation, Underage Drinking, Choking, Face Slapping, Drunk Sex, Creampie, Read at your own risk!

Words: 2.3k

Banner by @straywords 🥀

Summary: Dark!Rafe Cameron knows the real you...he knows you're not as innocent as you look and when the opportunity comes to break you...he takes it.

Part 2

Rafe Cameron was staring at you hard. Watching as you took a huge gulp of your drink. When you finished it, you slammed the cup down with a big smile on your face, JJ was cheering you on. 

It was a cool night; the bonfire was burning next to him. Rafe hated that stupid look you got on your face when you were happy.  

Something in him wanted to watch you break under him. You were always so happy; he couldn’t stand it.  

What did a Pogue have to be happy about anyway? And it didn’t help that he hated your friends. JJ and John B being the main targets of that hate.  

The coke in his system and the liquor he was drinking didn’t help calm him down but made his anger worse. He stared at you swaying in your short skirt clinging to your thighs.  

One wrong move and you would flash any perv watching. He couldn’t help but scoff at your outfit, thinking you liked looking like a whore.  

He hated to admit he found something captivating about you, you were pretty and had such an innocent look on your face all the time, something about that made him want to break that innocence.  

He knew it was all an act, you weren’t all innocent, you drunkenly hooked up with his best friend, if anything that made you fair game.   

He felt something shift in him, his hate turning into dark arousal. Fuck he was getting hard, imagining you on your knees, begging him not to fuck your mouth silly.  

Rafe closed his eyes for a moment, he inhaled a deep breath trying to calm himself down. When he opened his eyes to watch you again you were gone.  

He got up to look around the beach trying to find you, beer in hand. He noticed your friends were still around. He didn’t really know why he was following you; he blamed the substances in his system for his actions.   

He just knew he wanted to have you under him right now. He got up and walked around the beach, the cool night air felt good on his flushed cheeks.  

You were walking along the beach, trying to calm down. The alcohol slowed your movements as you walked barefoot in the sand. You wanted to find somewhere quiet to sit, just to get away from the noise, telling your friends you’d be right back.  

You found a little spot far enough from the party but not far enough where your friends couldn’t find you. You basked in the nighttime air, trying to calm your swirling head.  

You knew you shouldn’t have drunk so much but having fun with your friends after a long week at work was worth it. You heard movement behind you, your hair stood on edge, and you whipped your head around, feeling dizzy.   

Rafe Cameron.   

Kook royalty was walking towards you. Your eyebrows threaded together, staring because you were unsure if he was real or your drunk mind playing tricks on you.  

“Hey” was all you heard. No this was real; Rafe was talking to you. You and Rafe weren’t close, you were friends with his sister Sarah of course. But in all honesty, Rafe scared you.  

You have seen him in action at his worst, you tried to stay away from him, but he was always around, staring at you and teasing you for being “unbearably innocent” whatever that meant, you didn’t like how he talked to you most times.   

You were kind of sheltered yes and didn't have many boyfriends or hookups, expect a drunk night with Topper, which Sarah didn‘t know about, you felt too ashamed to tell her.  

You were okay with not being in a relationship right now, my time will come you tell yourself and friends. “Hey airhead, I'm talking to ya” He snapped you out of your thoughts.  

“I'm sorry, what’s up?” you slur sitting up straight. Rafe was standing above you, smirking while staring down at you.  

“it's dangerous sitting out here all alone y’know that?” You shifted in the sand. “Well, I needed some alone time, too much to drink” You gave a little smile to him, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You’re really dumb, aren’t you?” He laughed. Your smile faded, trying to ignore his mean words. “Why are you here, huh? Just to ruin my mood?” you mumble. Rafe sat down next to you, too close. He ignored you, still staring at you, his eyes trailed down your frame and back up.  

You felt a little uneasy “What? am I ruining your night? Did you have something better to do?” he cocked his head to the side “Like hang out with those losers pogues?” He finishes his beer, throwing the bottle in the sand. Asshole you thought.  

“My friends aren't losers, and I really want to be alone” you empathize the alone part, hoping he takes the hint.   

You start to get up Rafe tugs your arm, so you sit back down. “Nah where are you going? Relax, I was just having fun” The look in his eyes makes you feel uneasy. 

“Rafe...I really should go” you try to stay calm, but that sudden movement made your head spin. “Nah stay with me, I wanna talk” you got quiet, Rafe still has his hand on your arm.  

He let you go, only to move his hand to your skirt playing with the hem. Panic starts to kick in. “What I don’t get is why you’re dressed like such a whore?” Rafe laughs at his own insult. “It’s like you're asking to get fucked” His hand moves up your thigh. “I'm not a whore and I'm not asking for it” you spit.   

You try to move away from his touch only for his hand to grasp your thigh hard. He moved closer, his voice calm and quiet “You are a fucking slut. I know you gave Topper head at that summer party, he never shuts up about it, fuck it must have been amazing” Rafe stared in your eyes waiting for a reaction. 

Your eyes started to get blurry, tears kissed the corners of your eyes. “That was a one-time thing, I was drunk” you excused.  

Fuck Topper for opening his big mouth.  

“Still...how would Sarah feel if I let it slip?” his hand moved to your inner thigh inching its way closer to your pussy. The contrast between the heat of his body and the cool air was making you feel sick.  

“Telling her what a slut her best friend is, fucking with her ex? She would hate you” the words made you angry. In the back of your mind, you thought he might be right... 

You used all your strength to push him away from you “Fuck you asshole!” He didn’t budge, his blue eyes got dark.   

He pushed you into the sand, his big hands on your throat. He was so much bigger than you, his frame towered over you. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that, you hear me?”  

He squeezed your throat; you tried clawing his hands to get him to let go. But to no avail he kept squeezing. “Answer me bitch” The tears were flowing freely now. You nodded your head as much as you could. He moved his hands finally letting you breathe; you coughed trying to catch your breath.   

“Just for being a fucking bitch, now I'm going fuck your little disrespectful mouth” your eyes widened, no way he was serious right now. 

“Rafe please don’t do this” you whispered he used a hand to keep you in place, while the other hand undid the button on his pants. “Y'know I always hate how fucking innocent you look all the time, it's annoying” you hear the zipper come undone. "I know what you really are" The blonde whispered.  

“No-” you start to protest, when Rafe brings his hard cock close to your face, your voice dies in your throat. “Now open that pretty mouth, do something useful” when you don’t listen, a hard slap comes to your cheek. You cry out at the sudden strike “Fucking open up” you listened; he smiled down at you.  

“Good girl, knew you had a brain in that cute head of yours”   

Rafe took the opportunity to force his cock down your throat, you gagged at the harshness hitting the back of your throat. He pulled your hair in his fist, gripping it steady as he pulled you fast and hard on his length. He moaned at the sensation of your hot mouth on his cock.  

Your face was a mess between the tears and spit. He gave a few more thrusts before pulling you out of your mouth, saliva connecting your lips to his wet cock. “Shit, you’re good, no wonder Topper couldn’t shut the fuck up” you whimpered under him, your stomach pooling with a lewd feeling, as much as you hated him in this moment, your body couldn’t help but heat up from his dangerous touch.   

“Please let me go back to my friends, I won’t say anything I promise.” you tried to reason with him, voice shaking.  

“What? I didn’t even get to stretch that tight pussy out, I'm not done” you were even more upset now, why was he doing this to you? He didn’t even like you or you thought.  

“Fuck you're so pretty when you cry” Rafe kissed your lips hard as he could manage, moving his hands to your pussy, he rips your underwear off, you were already wet. He rubbed your pussy softly at first. He breaks the kiss. “Fuck you are drenched” he moaned in awe, as he stroked you with more force “you like it that much you little slut?”  

“No, I don’t” you manage looking away.   

Rafe grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. “Then why are you soaking my fingers?" Rafe cockiness only grew stronger at the feel of your wetness, he forced two fingers in you. “Fuck baby” he moaned into your mouth, kissing you again before he moved his lips to kiss all over your neck and chest. Making your eyes roll back. 

He was fucking you hard with his slender fingers. You focus again when you feel him slowly pull his fingers out of you. “I wanna stuff my cock into you baby” Rafe positioned himself in front of your opening.   

“Wait- Fuck!” you screamed when Rafe hard cock, made its way into you, no time to adjust to his size. He held you so close, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you, like you were made to be wrapped around his cock. “You feel so good baby, you like my cock filling you up?” Rafe asked fucking you hard, dragging himself against your hot walls.   

“Tell me you like it, tell me” Rafe slammed harder, you could barely speak, your mind going fuzzy from the pain and building pleasure.  

Your mind told you to scream no at him, but your body was telling you something different. Rafe eyes were glossed over, lust washed over his features, you bit your lips trying to suppress the moans that threatened to escape. Looking into his eyes “Yes Rafe, yes” you cried.   

You had to tell him whatever he wanted to hear so he would let you go home right? No way you really liked this...right?  

His pace sped up at your words. He hooked his arms under your knees to get himself even deeper in you. 

“I could fuck you better than any of those fucking pogues” Rafe breathed into your ear. You clenched at his words. “Fuck you like that whore?” he slowed down for a second, giving some relief which didn’t last long.   

“Hmm? Want me to fuck you whenever I want? he licked his lips. You hummed your mind swirling from the orgasm building up.  

“Huh? You’re going to be my little cockslut? All for me?” You clenched hard around him, cumming on his cock, you bit your lips, you were shaking from the release.  

“You little slut, you just came on my fucking cock” Rafe looked amused and proud himself.   

Your face heated up from embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you did that. “I don’t..i didn't-” you stutter at a loss for words.  

“You’re a slut who looks getting fucked rough, trust me baby I can keep making that happen” Rafe kissed you hard, getting lost in his rough thrusts chasing his own release.   

“Fuck, I'm going to cum” Rafe breathed into you, holding you tightly. “don’t...don’t cum inside me please” You beg when you realize he not letting you go. 

“Shut up and take it” Rafe slurred as he pumped a few more times into you, his seed filling you up. He laid there for a few moments before pulling out of you. You quickly pushed him off you to stand up. Sniffing, you fixed yourself up. “Can’t believe you’re such a good little slut” Rafe chuckled, pulling his pants up.   

“Why me?” you sniff again, your tears threatening to spill. Rafe cocked his head to the side, looking at you. You didn’t even know what type of answer you wanted.  

“Why?” Rafe stood up and walked toward you, you automatically moved back but Rafe holds on to your jaw and lower back, keeping you in place.  

“Because I don’t fucking like you, Y/N, and it was easy” he says slowly and shrugs, giving you a half smile.  

You were shocked at his words, your mouth slightly open. “Oh, and I won’t tell Sarah or your loser pogues friends, but I own you now” he says into your ear softly.  

“See you around yea?” Rafe winks and starts to walk away like nothing ever happened.  

You stand there in disbelief, your head feeling heavy as you watch him walk away. You were scared and confused, and you knew your life was about to fucking change.