katebacks - Tumblr blog

katebacks · 20 days

Text

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.

— I’ll find something to eat, alright?

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.

— Ah…your father is at home?

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.

— You didn’t tell him about me?

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh.

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.

— Ja. You can have it.

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.

— What do you mean by this, sir?

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.

König is.

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?

You look like a good candidate.

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.

— I don’t want to break his heart.

— He doesn’t have one.

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.

— I’ll tell him.

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.

— I need to return to my dorm.

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.

12K notes · View notes

katebacks · 21 days

Text

You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.

He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.

Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.

Until he gives you permission.

The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.

At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.

His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.

He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.

"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.

"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."

"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.

You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.

"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."

And so, you complied.

You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.

"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive a fighter jet ride."

He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.

Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.

"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."

"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."

"Did you take care of it?"

"No."

"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."

He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.

"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."

He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.

"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."

You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.

They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.

He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.

It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.

"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.

"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"

You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.

"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."

Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.

He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.

Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.

When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.

The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.

2K notes · View notes

katebacks · 22 days

Text

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man?

a/n: This is technically part two for this list. You could read them separately but I really think you should read them both so you can fully feel the angst.

non-mcu characters masterlist

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries this is one is for you girl

Price stalks over to him and grabs him by the front of his vest, not caring that everyone can see what’s going on. “You call and apologize to her right now, ya hear me? It’s unacceptable for you to lie to her like that and I should have your balls for it. You fix it before she does go off and find herself a better man.”

Now let’s say that when Simon got back, things were….different. You rarely fought but now you’re bickering about every little thing and having full on battles of the will that leave you crying in the bedroom while he’s storming out. The connection between you two feels strained and distant where’s before it was warm and comforting. You barely look at each other and sometimes you think he’s straight up ignoring you.

Even the dogs have started to notice that there’s something off about mom and dad. Most nights you’ll sleep alone with the dogs by your door while Simon is on the couch. It feels like they’re laying in wait, ready to spring into action if anything were to happen. They don’t go to him as much as they did before and your female dog, Echo, refuses to leave your side. She’s become glued to you while your other dog, Zade, keeps you within eyesight at all times. It really pisses Simon off because Zade is supposed to be his dog and the mutt won’t even look at him (Simon’s words, not yours).

It all comes to a head though one night when Simon is trying to get Zade to come with him on a walk and the dog just stares at him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares into Simon’s soul and judges him for how he’s been treating you.

“Zade! Come here now!” Simon grumbles in a half shout but the dog doesn’t move a muscle. You’re in the bedroom with Echo at your feet and she glances over at you with a look that says ‘let’s go’.

What happened next is a blur. Echo barely makes it into the living room before she’s growling and placing herself between you and Simon. Zade is up and stalking closer to his sister’s side while Simon is growing more and more angry. You don’t think you even had the time to say anything before Echo and Zade tackle Simon to the ground. You know they wouldn’t hurt him but it’s still a terrifying sight and you’re doing everything you can to get the dogs off of him. You manage to get them off but they refuse to go to their kennels and keep tucked behind you, still ready to protect you if needed.

“Simon, oh my god are you okay?” You ask him in a panicked and high pitched voice as you try to help him up. He shoves your hands off of him and accidentally uses too much force which sends you to stumbling into the dogs.

Everything is absolute chaos with his anger, the dogs trying to protect you, and now you’re crying while trying not to tell him off. At this point you grab the dogs by their collars and pull them away as tears are streaming down your face. When they hear your sniffles, they immediately give into you and let you pull them to the bedroom. You don’t hear Simon as you start to pack as much as you can. The weeks of being on edge have finally gotten to you and you’re done.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who isn’t willing to communicate with you.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who used to be the most loving and devoted man you’ve ever met but now he can’t acknowledge your presence.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s come so far and has forgiven himself for the things he’s done but now he’s slipping back into his old self destructive ways.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who can’t be honest with himself and admit that he’s wrong.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s become Ghost.

You’ve tried having faith in him after he broke up with you but it’s rotting you from the inside out. It’s eating away at your heart, gnawing at your ribs with your flesh stuck in its teeth. This faith is liquifying the kindness and patience you once had. It’s changing you into an anxious shell of a coward who can’t stand up for yourself. Change is alright but this is not. This change is making you cruel and hopeless while it waits for you to become a faithless savage who devours whatever light touches you.

It’s only when you come back into the living room with your bags packed and the dogs ready to go that Simon says something to you.

He questions what you’re doing.

He doesn’t apologize.

“I’m leaving. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow,” you tell him as you find your keys.

“What do you mean?”

You stop. You stare at the front door with completely blank eyes. They flicker to him over your shoulder.

“I’m leaving you. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out how to make it a clean break then.”

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you after that.

He lets you walk out the door. You don’t ask him to fight for you either.

He lets you leave him. You don’t turn back either.

You meant to drive to your friend’s place but somewhere on the way there you pull over and cry until you feel like you’re going to pass out. Zade and Echo watch from the backseat of your car with their heads on your center console. They want to comfort you but there’s not exactly room for two 100 pound dogs in the front seat so they stay put. Your friend calls you frantically because she’s not home but tells you that you should come meet her wherever she’s at. As nice as it might be to get away, it’s not appealing to you at the moment so you call the only other person you know you’d be comfortable with right now.

A part of you knows it’s a mistake to call him and if Simon finds out, he might very well almost kill his captain a third time. The other part of you knows that John would be understanding and the calm presence that you want right now. He already checks on you regularly so would it be a huge surprise if you showed up on his doorstep?

As if he’s been waiting for this moment, John already has a guest room for you and has the back door open for the dogs to run around outside. They’ve met him before so they feel more secure with leaving your side although they both give him a warning look.

Now it’s important to remember that the entire time you’ve known John, you’ve been with Simon. John thinks himself a gentleman, albeit a bit gruff, but a gentleman no less so you’ve been off limits. Obviously he can’t ignore the initial attraction he felt towards you because you are an utterly breathtaking person and it would be impossible to not notice that. He’s tried to lock away the yearning that tugs at the marrow in his bones when he sees you but it’s difficult. It’s like asking a dog to stop begging; they might listen for a moment but they go back to it within seconds. Also during the course of your friendship, he’s come to know the absolute amazing person that you are and seen that you have the kindness soul he’s ever known. It didn’t used to hurt when he saw you but after that night you texted him to keep Simon safe after he broke up with you, it’s damn near unbearable. Simon told you to find yourself a better man and John knows he could be that man. He wants to be that man but only if you come to him. He won’t approach you or even hint at it with you. It needs to be you who seeks him out. It needs to be you who wants him. It needs to be you who asks him to be that man otherwise John would never be able to forgive himself if it all went wrong.

Nothing happens that night or at all for that matter during your stay with John. It was meant to only be a few days but with losing your house so suddenly and trying to navigate a world Post Simon, it ends up being a few weeks. You feel awful about it and promise that you’ll be gone as soon as you can. John always laughs it off and tells you to stay as long as you need. Secretly he’s growing accustomed to your calming presence and gentle ways. He adores how thoughtful you are when you have to work early and barely make a sound. He appreciates how you make him a plate and leave it in the fridge if he comes home late. He’s thankful that you’re comfortable enough with him to tell him about everything that’s going on.

John made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t bring up anything unless you said something first. Even when he wants desperately to know why you’re crying when you came back from Simon’s tonight, he won’t. Instead he offers you a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and some space while he busies himself in his shop outside. It absolutely destroys him to even think about leaving you alone in the living room but it’s the right thing to do.

Just as he’s getting ready to leave, your small voice stops him.

“Can…can you stay?” It’s unusual for you to not be confident in your words. It causes him to freeze to hear the uncertainty. “If..if you want.”

He smiles at the ground before turning to look at you and nod. You’re curled into a ball on the couch with your dogs at your feet but there’s space for him next to you. You lean away from the arm of the couch and he takes the hint. Settling into the space between you and couch, he tosses his arm over the back and lets you decide how to proceed. Against your logical head, you tuck yourself into his side with yours pulled around yourself and your head on his shoulder. His fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair but they stay tightly closed around the couch cushion.

“Thank you…for everything.”

“No need for that.” He murmurs with bated breath. He knows you can feel the tension, how could you not when you’re practically laying on his chest?

“One day you’re going to accept my thanks. It might not be tomorrow or the day after, but you will,” you say with a snort. He says that every single time and you reply with the same phrase every time as well.

John’s hand betrays him and starts to play with the very ends of your hair. You feel it just like you felt his strained breathing. It’s strange to feel affection from anyone else but from him, it’s…. welcomed. You don’t acknowledge it and he knows that you’re doing that for his own sake.

“Maybe,” he tosses back and his breath catches when you move closer to him. Your arm moves to wrap around his waist and stills when he tenses. It’s your silent way of asking for consent to hold him. “Love,” he starts and moves his hand away from your hair.

You move to look at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and warmth it makes your stomach flip.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You ask him directly, unwilling to be tossed around again. It’s abrasive and you know there’s a better way to have asked but it gets straight to the point.

John looks sick and a tight lipped smile pulls across his face as he tries to come up with an answer. “I…love I think you need to rest. There’s been a…”

“No. Answer the question.”

He glances down at your lips and that’s telling enough.

“Now isn’t the right time,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “You’ve just gone through…”

Cutting him off, you say firmly, “and that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

He can only stare at you with half lidded eyes and pray that he doesn’t break in front of you. His resolve is crumbling and it’s only thanks to his military service that he’s not throwing himself at you.

“I told him it’s over.”

John tries to interrupt you but you silence him with a pointed look. “I told him that I will always love him but that doesn’t mean I want to be with him anymore. I won’t wait around for him to figure his life out. I don’t deserve that. I deserve a man who knows what he wants and will communicate with me.”

Honestly it feels like his world is crumbling around him. You’re here snuggled into his chest and saying all these things which he knows what they mean but he can’t believe that you know what they mean. He can’t trust his own understanding of you and believe that you’d mean that.

“I need you to tell me what you want…now.”

You.

He wants you. More than anything in the world, John Price wants you and you’re asking him to confess that secret.

1K notes · View notes