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fuzzyautumninmetal · 2 days

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Loving Husband pt 3

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Fucking in Soaps bathroom

Husband Price plagued my mind, I spent all night writing this It's over 6k words lmao

Part 2 Part 4

You pouted at John's words, "But your darling wife is hungry." You gave him your best puppy dog eyes "And she really wants her handsome husband to cook for her" John raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He'd learned long ago that it was impossible to resist those pleading eyes of yours. "Fine," he sighed dramatically. "But only because I'm such a good husband."

You smiled at John's words "The best husband actually!" You got out of the tub and to your shared bedroom to dry off, John followed close behind. Once dressed, John made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he began preparing a meal for them both. As he cooked, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have found someone like you. You brought light into his life, something that had been missing for a long time.

You put on of Johns shirts on, it fitted you like a dress (Well kind off, to stopped just below your ass) you went downstairs and hugged John from behind. You nestled your face into his bare back, leaving light kisses. Your hands roaming over his chest and stomach that's now a bit pudgy due to your cooking. You didn't mind, it made him 10x sexier in your mind.

John turned his head to the side, a soft smile curving his lips as he felt your warm embrace. Your touch sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, causing him to lean back against you. "I've almost finished," he murmured, his hand covering yours on his stomach. "Just a little while longer."

You nodded at John's words, you were content just being near him. You watched him cook, your gaze wandering over his body. You licked your lips subconsciously, thinking about how much you wanted him already. You wondered if he'd be up for round three after dinner....or maybe before.

John continued to cook, his mind wandering to the enticing thought of you. The image of your naked form filled his mind, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He could already feel himself getting hard at the thought of taking you again. "Just a few more minutes," he muttered under his breath, trying to focus on the task at hand.

You walked around to stand next to John, leaning against the counter. You looked up at him, biting your lower lip lightly. You reached out and placed your hand on his hip, squeezing it gently. "Mmm, you look so sexy standing there cooking for me shirtless."

John glanced down at you, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He could see the desire in your eyes, matching his own arousal. "Well, I do it for the compliments," he teased, his hand covering yours on his hip. "Although I must say, seeing you in my shirt does make me want to take it off."

"Oh? And what would you do if you took it off?" You asked playfully, your free hand moving up to rest on his chest. John's grin widened at your question, his eyes darkening with desire. His hand moved from yours on his hip to your waist, pulling you closer against him. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured huskily, "I think you know exactly what I'd do."

You giggled softly, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. You knew exactly what John meant, and the thought of it sent a thrill through your body. You leaned up and kissed his jawline, your other hand sliding up to cup his cheek. You rubbed her thumb over his lips lightly. "Food can wait.

John's heart skipped a beat at your words, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you fully against him. His lips captured yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth.

His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting you up onto the countertop. His body settled between your legs, his erection straining in his sweats. He could already tell that this was going to be another intense round, one that would leave them both breathless and satisfied.

You wrapped your legs around John's waist, pulling him even closer to you. You moaned into his kiss, your tongue dancing with his. You hands cupped his face, holding him tightly to you. You could feel his hardness pressing against your pussy through his sweats and your shirt. You rocked your hips up to grind against him.

John groaned deeply at the feeling of you grinding against him, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you. "God, you drive me crazy," he murmured huskily, his lips capturing one of your nipples through the fabric of his shirt. He suckled on it gently, his hand reaching up to cup your other breast.

Your head fell back against the cabinet, a soft moan escaping your lips as John sucked on your nipple. You arched your back pushing your breasts further into his hands. You ground your pussy harder against his cock, desperate for more contact. "And your a god damn tease!" Your hands went down to try and move his sweats down slightly.

John chuckled softly at your accusation, his teeth nipping lightly at your nipple through the fabric of his shirt. His hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your hardened nipples. "And you love every second of it," he murmured teasingly, his hands moving down to assist you with his sweats. He pushed them down enough to free his erect cock, the head bumping against your wet cunt. "Now that's more like it," he grinned, his hands reaching forward to grip your thighs.

You gasped softly as John freed his cock, the head pressing against your soaked cunt. You spread your legs wider, encouraging him to push inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

John obliged your silent request, his hand helping to guide his cock into your wet folds. He groaned deeply as he felt your tight walls clench around him, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you pulled him in for a kiss. He thrust slowly into you, savouring the sensation of being buried deep within you. His hands tightened on your thighs, his pace picking up as he began to fuck you.

You moaned into John's kiss, your tongue wrestling with his. Your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, digging into his muscles. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, locking your feet together. You grinded your heels into his ass, urging him to go faster.

John groaned deeply at the feeling of your heels digging into his ass, your legs locked around him. He increased his pace, thrusting into you faster. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he panted, his breath hot against your neck. "God, I love fucking you."

You whimpered and moaned loudly, your body writhing beneath John's. You threw your head back against the cabinet, biting down on your bottom lip. Your nails dug into John's shoulders, leaving small crescent shaped marks on his skin. Your body tensed, and then suddenly relaxed as an orgasm ripped through you. You screamed out loud, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Feeling your climax, John followed close behind, his own orgasm exploding within you. He growled low in his throat, his hips bucking wildly as he emptied himself into you. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding onto you as his body shook with release.

Finally, he collapsed against you, panting heavily as he buried his face in your neck, nuzzling your earlobe. "Jesus Christ, woman..." he managed to get out between ragged breaths.

You held onto John tightly, your legs still locked around his waist. You were breathing heavy, trying to catch your breath. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head. "Fucking hell" you rested your head on the cabinet and let out a breathless laugh. John lifted his head from your neck, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he gazed up at you. His hands slipped from your thighs to your hips, holding you firmly against him.

"Fucking hell indeed," he agreed, chuckling softly.

You smiled lazily at John, running your fingers through his hair again. You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips before releasing your legs from around his waist. "I'm starving now" you said with a giggle. John reluctantly slid out of you with a wet pop, pulled his sweats up and began plating dinner up for you both.

John chuckled softly at your comment, shaking his head in amusement as he stepped back. "Figures," he muttered under his breath with a smile. "You've just given me 3 intense orgasms within the last hour an half... You can't expect me not to be hungry." You chuckled while giving his ass a small squeeze before sitting on the couch.

John laughed softly at you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. He gave your ass a playful squeeze in return before turning back to the food. "I suppose not," he conceded, finishing off plating the food. He carried the plates over to the coffee table in front of the sofa, setting them down before taking a seat next to you.

You sat on the couch and picked up your fork, eating a bit of everything. You hummed in delight, closing your eyes as you savoured the flavours. "Mmm... This is delicious" you glanced at John and couldn't help but imagine him as a father, running around with your child (Knowing John. Children), it brought a smile to your face. Despite you and John struggling to conceive you know it will happen.

One day.

John watched as you tasted the food, a pleased smile spreading across his face when you hummed in delight. "It tastes even better when it's shared with someone special," he commented, glancing over at you. He raised an eyebrow curiously at the sudden smile that lit up your face.

"What's got you looking all dreamy?" he asked, curious about what could have caused such a change in your expression. "Thinking about when you finally become a father. Just you running around with them, most likely with toy guns" you chuckled at the thought.

John chuckled along with you at your comment, shaking his head slightly. He reached over, placing his hand on your stomach. "One day we'll make a fine little soldier," he said quietly, his hand gently rubbing your stomach.

You placed your hand over his. Despise all the tests that came back negative over the last 2 months having John by your side made you stay positive. Even after all the nights you've cried in his shoulder. It's one of the many reasons why you love him.

John squeezed your hand gently, nodding in agreement. He knew how much they both wanted this, despite the setbacks they'd faced recently. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We'll get there, love," he murmured reassuringly, his hand continuing to rub gentle circles on your stomach. You sighed softly, resting your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him with a small smile, appreciating his reassurance. You kissed his cheek lightly before going back to eating.

John continued to rub your stomach, his other hand reaching for his fork as he went back to eating. He listened as you hummed in contentment, the sound filling the room and adding to the comfortable atmosphere.

"You know," he began, pausing mid-forkful of food. He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. "If we keep this up, we might end up with more than one little soldier." You laughed softly, shaking your head at John's comment. You finished off your food before setting your fork down on the plate. "You've always said you wanted a big family"

John chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. He finished off his own food before setting his fork down, leaning back against the couch. "Well, I did say that," he admitted, glancing over at you. His hand moved from your stomach to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

You looked at John, smiling softly. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, wrapping your arm around his waist. "We'll get there eventually. And when we do... We're gonna need a bigger house" you teased lightly, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. John chuckled at your teasing comment, shaking his head slightly. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The weekend came round quickly. You and John were getting ready to go to Soap's for a BBQ, you decided to wear a pretty, red sundress you know John loves so much. "Don't forget the wine" you called out to John, who was downstairs in the kitchen. "Oh and the muffins I made"

John appeared in the doorway, carrying a bottle of wine and a plate of muffins. He stopped short when he saw you in your dress, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Fuck me," he murmured, setting the items down on the counter. His gaze roamed over her appreciatively. "You look absolutely stunning, love."

You smiled softly at John's reaction, turning around slowly so he could see the whole dress. "Thank you" you spun around again, twirling around before making your way over to him. "Ready to go?" John nodded, picking up the items he had set down. He followed you over to where you stood, offering you the muffins. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, slipping his free arm around your waist.

You got to Soap's place and rang the door bell. Soap opened the door and shouted "Mom and Dad are here!" You chuckled as you gave him a hug.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz always joked that John was the dad of Task Force 141. So when you two started dating it only made sense that you became mom.

John returned Soap's hug, chuckling at the familiar greeting. He stepped aside as you walked past him, giving your ass a playful squeeze as you passed. "Looks like we're the last ones here," he remarked, following her inside. As you and John entered the backyard, they spotted Ghost and Gaz standing by the grill, talking animatedly with each other. They turned as soon as they heard footsteps, grinning widely when they saw who it was.

"About time you two showed up!" Ghost exclaimed, patting the grill before pulling out a beer for John. "Blame John. Took to long on his beard" you teased knowing John took pride in his mutton chops that you grew to love.

John rolled his eyes at your teasing, taking the beer Ghost offered him. He lifted it in a mock toast before taking a swig. "I'll have you know these chops take time to perfect," he retorted playfully, running a hand over his beard.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes "I'm getting a glass of wine!" You gave John a kiss on the cheek and went into Soap's kitchen to open a bottle of wine. John watched as you left, his gaze trailing you until you disappeared into the house. A soft smile spread across his face, appreciating the view you provided. "She looks happy," Ghost commented, noticing John's distracted state. He nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Indeed she does," he agreed, he took another sip of beer, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

You found a wine glass and opened the bottle of wine. As you poured yourself a glass, you thought about how lucky you were to have John in your life. The way he cared for you, the way he supported you, even through the toughest times. He truly was your rock.

John sipped his beer, listening to Ghost and Gaz chat amongst themselves. His mind wandered back to the first time he met you - you were feisty, confident, and didn't give a damn what anyone thought. He fell for you instantly.

You carried your glass of wine outside, finding John chatting with Ghost, Soap and Gaz. You sat next to him, placing your hand on his knee. "Hey handsome"

"Get a room already!" Soap called out and you stuck your middle finger up at him that earned a laugh off everyone. John chuckled at Soap's remark, shrugging nonchalantly. "Maybe we will later," he quipped, winking at you.

"Johnathan Price don't be so rude" You playfully slapped him on the chest. You heard a bunch of 'Ooooo' because you used Johns full name. John laughed, catching your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, grinning mischievously.

"You better be sorry" You teased, poking his chest. "Now stop distracting me with your good looks and charm and go help Ghost and Gaz with the food"

John raised an eyebrow at your demand, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He stood, giving your ass a playful squeeze before heading over to help Ghost and Gaz. "Make sure you save some of that wine for me," he called over his shoulder, chuckling as he walked away.

John helped Ghost and Gaz finish preparing the food, a steady stream of jokes and banter flowing between them. He couldn't help but glance over at you every now and then, appreciating the sight of you laughing alongside Soap. Once everything was ready, they all gathered around the table to eat. The conversation flowed easily throughout the meal, filled with laughter and camaraderie.

"So how's the baby making going?" Soap asked.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz knew you and John were struggling to conceive but helped you two stay positive. Over the past 2 months they've supported you both and were always there to comfort you both when a test came back negative.

John chuckled at Soap's question, shaking his head slightly. He reached under the table, giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. "It's been... interesting," he admitted, trying to keep his tone light despite the underlying frustration. "But we won't give up."

"Well. When it does happen I'm uncle Soap" he grinned, trying to lighten the mood. It worked. You giggled and questioned "Uncle Soap? Wouldn't it be uncle Johnny?" Soap shook his head "Nope. Uncle Soap." Gaz then chimed in "I want to be uncle Gaz." You looked at Ghost who just shrugged with a smile "I'll just be Ghost". You rolled your eyes at him while chuckling "Obviously"

John laughed heartily at their playful banter, slapping Soap on the back. "Fair enough, mate," he said, nodding in agreement. "Just make sure you spoil the little tyke rotten." He glanced over at you, seeing the fond smile on your face. He squeezed your thigh again, feeling a surge of hopefulness. You laughed along with everyone else, appreciating their support. You leaned into John, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the day wore on you all laughed, joked and drank. A lot. Which meant you got a bit too touchy with John. (He didn't mind. Of course he didn't mind. Why would he mind?)

Throughout the evening, John found himself stealing glances at you. Your laughter rang out clear and true amidst the din of voices, your eyes sparkling with mirth. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his sent a jolt of desire coursing through him.

As the night wore on and the alcohol loosened tongues further, conversations became more risqué. Jokes about bedroom antics were made, causing John's cock to twitch in anticipation.

The more you drank the more handsy you became with John. Your fingers traced circles on his thigh and occasionally drifted upwards towards his crotch. It wasn't intentional but you were having fun and enjoying the attention you were getting from John.

John let out a low growl as your fingers brushed against his growing bulge, his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his arousal. He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Careful, love," he warned, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Or we might end up taking Soap's advice a bit too literally."

You giggled, biting your lip "Oh really?" Your hand moved higher, stroking his length through his pants. "That would be a shame."

John groaned softly as your hand continued its teasing exploration, his cock throbbing eagerly beneath your touch. He shifted again, trying to alleviate the pressure building within him. "You're killing me here, love," he muttered, his voice strained. "And I'm not sure Soap would approve."

You grinned devilishly at John's words, continuing to stroke him through his pants. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear "He doesn't need to know." You stopped stroking him and stood up abruptly. "I'm just going to freshen up" you told everyone while glancing a John. Giving him a small smirk as you walked off.

John watched as you sauntered off, a flush creeping onto his cheeks. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, desperate for release. He glanced over at Soap, who was engaged in conversation with Ghost and Gaz. Satisfied that no one was looking, he slipped off his chair and followed after you.

John caught up with you in the hallway, closing the distance between them quickly. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the bathroom. "C'mere," he murmured, shutting the door behind them.

You let yourself be pulled into the bathroom, a sly smile on your face. As soon as the door was shut John roughly pushed you against the bathroom counter, his hands gripping your hips tightly. His fingers traced over the hem of your dress, slowly pushing it up until it pooled around your waist.

His other hand reached down, sliding underneath your panties to find your wet folds. He groaned in pleasure at the feel of your heat, teasing your clit with slow circles. "Don't think I won't spank your arse if you make any noise," he warned, nipping at her earlobe.

You gasped as John's fingers found your soaked pussy. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he began circling your sensitive clit. You looked over your shoulder, smirking at him "Mmm don't threaten what you aren't prepared to do"

John grunted at your challenge, his fingers continuing their torturous tease. He pressed harder against your clit, pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger. "I can handle anything you dish out," he assured you, leaning in to nip at the curve of your neck. "Now behave yourself."

You whimpered as John continued to play with your clit, pressing harder against it. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms to try and hold back the moans threatening to escape your throat.

John could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, your arousal coating his fingers. He continued to tease your clit, his other hand reaching around to cup one of your breasts.

"Such a naughty girl," he whispered in your ear. "Making me fuck you in our friend's bathroom."

You moaned quietly as John continued to play with your clit, your body arching back against him. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more friction.

John chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers continued to move, rubbing against your clit in slow circles. "Impatient, aren't we?" he taunted, giving your ass a sharp slap. "You'll get what you want when I'm ready to give it to you."

You yelped as John slapped your ass, the sting sending a shiver down your spine. You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress the moans threatening to break free as he continued to tease your clit. John groaned in pleasure as your juices coated his fingers, your tight hole clenching around nothing. He gave your ass another hard smack, relishing the way you squirmed under his touch.

"That's it," his voice husky with desire. "Let me hear you beg." You whimpered as John continued to tease your clit, your body shaking with pent-up frustration. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip to hold back a moan. "Please... I need more"

John chuckled darkly, his fingers stilling on your clit. He leaned in, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Not good enough," he murmured, giving your ass another sharp slap. "Beg properly or I'll stop altogether."

You whined as John stopped playing with your clit, the sudden lack of stimulation making you ache even more. You gripped the edge of the countertop, biting down on your bottom lip to keep quiet. "Please fuck me John. Please"

John groaned in pleasure at your plea, his cock throbbing with need. He released your hip, reaching down to unbutton his jeans.

"Good girl," he praised, pulling out his hardening cock. "Now spread those legs."

You obeyed John, spreading your legs wide apart. You looked back at him, biting your lip as he undid his pants. You could see his cock straining against his boxers, eager for release. John groaned in pleasure as he saw your wetness glistening on your thighs, your tight little cunt begging to be filled. He stepped forward, positioning himself behind you.

"God," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm so fucking lucky that you're my wife."

You smiled at John's words, turning to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were glazed with desire as you watched him position himself behind you. "I am lucky too... I have a husband who knows how to treat a woman right"

John growled in response, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you by dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. "Mmm..." he hummed, nuzzling your neck. "And I have a wife who knows how to make a man feel like a king."

You moaned as John teased your entrance with the head of his cock, your body yearning for him. You pressed yourself back against him. "Stop being a fucking tease... please"

John chuckled, his hand tightening around his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you by pushing in only an inch. "Oh, I'm not done teasing yet," he warned. "But since you asked so nicely..." With that, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely with his hard cock. He groaned in pleasure, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "There we go," he murmured, his hips beginning to move. "That's it."

As John thrust into you, you cried out in pleasure, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You gripped the edge of the sink, bracing yourself as he began to thrust deeper into your soaking pussy. You both didn't care about being quiet anymore.

John groaned in pleasure as he felt your tight walls clench around him, your body welcoming him home. He thrust deeper into you, each movement causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through him.

"Fuck, you're so tight," his voice strained with desire. "I love this view."

John grabbed a fistful of your hair, tightening his grip, pulling your head back further until you were forced to look at yourself in the mirror. He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your clit with each powerful stroke. "Look at us," he panted. "Fucking beautiful."

Your eyes locked onto Johns in the mirror, he groans at the sight of your wicked smile, your eyes filled with lust and mischief. He increased his pace, thrusting into you harder. "You're such a dirty girl," his voice thick with desire. "I love it."

You moaned loudly as John picked up the pace, his cock driving in and out of your soaked pussy. You gripped the edge of the sink tighter, bracing yourself for the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "God I fucking love you John"

John grunted in response, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. He reached around, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "And I love you, sweetheart," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "So fucking much."

John groaned in pleasure as he felt your tight walls clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. He quickened his pace, driving himself deeper into you with every thrust. "That's it, baby," he praised. "Come for me."

Your orgasm hit you like a train, your pussy clamping down on Johns cock as you screamed in pleasure. You gripped the sink tightly, your knuckles white as your entire body shook from the intensity of it all.

His own orgasm crashed over him moments later, his cock twitching inside you as he filled you. He let out a guttural groan, his grip on your hair tightening as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

As John came, you felt your pussy squeeze him tighter, milking him for everything he had. You collapsed against the counter, panting heavily as your body slowly came down from its high. You could feel Johns cum starting to leak out of your pussy, dripping down your inner thigh.

John groaned in satisfaction, his hips still gently rocking as he emptied himself into you. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain control.

"Fuck," he murmured, finally releasing his grip on your hips.

He pulled out of you slowly, his cock giving one final twitch at the sensation of leaving your warm depths. He watched as his cum started to drip down your thigh, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

You turned around, wrapping your arms around John's waist. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow down as well. "That was... amazing" John nodded in agreement, his hands resting on your hips. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It always is with you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You're incredible."

He held you close for a moment longer before pulling away slightly. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "But now," he said, a playful glint in his eyes, "it's your turn to suck me off."

You grinned at John's words, you got on your knees and grabbed his cocks. A bang on the door made you stop and stare at the door with wide eyes. "You two better not be fucking in my bathroom!" Soap hiccupped.

"Fuck off sergeant" Price commanded.

You both heard Soap quickly walk away shouting towards Gaz and Ghost. "Mom and Dad are fucking in my bathroom" making you and John laugh but you had no intention of stopping as you wrapped your lips around the tip of John's cock.

John laughed at the sound of Soap's outraged voice, shaking his head in amusement. But the moment you took him into your mouth, he forgot about everything else. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his hands instinctively threading through your hair. "Just like that."

You hummed around Johns cock, sucking him deeper into your mouth until his cock hit the back of your throat and your nose was resting on his pubic bone. You gagged slightly but you kept your head there for a moment before pulling back to catch your breath and doing it again.

John groaned in pleasure as you took him deep into your mouth, the sensation of your tongue and lips working magic on his cock. Your gagging only spurred him on more, his hips bucking slightly as he fought to keep control.

You carried on taking him fully in your mouth, one hand moved to gently massage his balls. Your other hand rested on his hip as you worked him over. The taste of his precum mixed with the taste of his sweat filling your senses.

John's breath hitched as your hand found his sensitive balls, massaging them gently. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Fuck," he groaned. "Baby, you're going to make me-" But his words were cut off by a loud groan as he finally lost control, his cock throbbing as he spilled himself into your waiting mouth.

You swallowed Johns cum eagerly, your throat muscles working hard to get every last drop. You pulled back once he stopped cumming, looking up at him with a sultry smile.

John panted heavily, his grip on your hair loosening as he came down from his orgasm. He stared down at you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Jesus Christ," he murmured, running his fingers through your messy hair. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You giggled softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock before standing up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. "Pretty sure that's why you married me"

John chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart pounding in his chest. "Well. That was one of the reason," he agreed, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"We better go back and join everyone before Soap breaks the door down" You laughed as you began cleaning yourself up.

You both walked outside to see Soap looking at you like he was grossed out, earning a laugh from everyone. Even Soap. "If you two have managed to conceive in my bathroom he better be named after me!" He stated with folded arms.

John rolled his eyes at Soap's comment, a chuckle escaping his lips. He slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as they joined the others. "If we have," he said, winking at Soap, "then I think it's only fair that you name him Soap Jr." The group erupted into laughter at his suggestion.

"We are not naming our child Soap Jr." You shoved Johns shoulder playfully. John laughed, catching your hand and kissing the back of it. "Fair enough," he conceded, a teasing glint in his eyes. "How about Soap III then?" More laughter ensued, the tension from earlier completely dissolved thanks to their antics.

"We're not naming our child after anyone nickname." You shook your head at him. John shrugged, smiling at you fondly. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said, winking at you before joining in the conversation once more.

1 month later

John had been stuck at work all day, forced to deal with the usual bullshit that seemed to plague him wherever he went. He couldn't wait to get home, knowing that you would be waiting for him. The thought alone brought a small smile to his lips.

You went about making some lunch for yourself, you decided to cook your favourited. Salmon and rice. But the moment the smell of the cooked salmon hit your nose you felt sick. "Strange.... I love salmon" You mumbled to yourself, "Not unless?" You checked your period tracker on your phone and saw that you still had 3 days until your period but something told you to take a test "I guess taking one test wouldn't hurt"

What was 5 minutes felt like 5 hours to you. Waiting. Worrying. Praying. When you finally picked up the test you had to check it again.

It was positive.

"Don't get your hopes up" You told yourself. "It could be fluke" You rushed around the bathroom to find 3 more pregnancy tests.

When the 3 tests came back positive you couldn't do anything but cry. Cry with happiness. Your prayers had finally been answered. "I've got to tell John" You didn't want to tell him over the phone so you rushed to get dressed. Once you were dressed you grabbed the pregnancy tests and your car keys before driving to the base.

You were surprised you didn't get pulled over with how fast you were driving.

Once at the base you ran to Johns office and pounded on the door but no answer so you ran to the mess hall but again, he wasn't there. You saw Ghost and asked him where he was.

"He's in the gym" He answered and before he could ask why you ran off to the gym to find John.

John was just finishing up his workout when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see who it was and his breath caught in his throat when he saw you. "Sweetheart," he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" You ran and hugged John, you began crying.

John stiffened slightly at the sudden hug, but quickly relaxed and returned it, patting her back gently. "What is it?" he asked, worry clear in his voice. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

"I'm pregnant" You whispered in Johns ear.

John froze, his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, he pulled away slightly to look at you, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Really?" he asked, disbelief mingling with joy in his voice.

"Are you sure?"

You reached into your bag and pulled out the 4 positive pregnancy tests. "You're going to be a daddy" You said through sobs.

John's eyes filled with tears as he took the tests from your hands, unable to believe what he was seeing. He wrapped you up in another tight hug, lifting you off the ground, his laughter echoing throughout the empty gym. "Oh, my God," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Oh, my God!" He set you down carefully, his hands trembling as he looked at your belly, already imagining their child inside you. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in your neck, sobbing with relief and happiness.

"Thank you," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, baby. Thank you."

"We did it. We finally did it" You wiped your own tears away as you looked at John. This was the happiest moment of your life. "Yes, we did," John agreed, pulling you close again. He held you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. "We did it," he repeated softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Our family is starting now." His voice broke on the last word, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of their accomplishment. They had struggled for so long, faced so many obstacles...and yet here they were, expecting a child together.

"I love you," he whispered, nuzzling into your neck.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz rushed into the gym to make sure everything was okay after you were running about to find John. "Is everything okay Cap?" Gaz asked. He was concerned, they all were. Especially when they saw you both crying in each others arms.

John nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Yeah, I'm fine, guys," he said, trying to calm down. "Just...overwhelmed, you know?" He chuckled weakly, looking over at you, who was still sobbing but smiling now too. "She's pregnant," he explained, beaming with pride. "We're gonna have a baby." The other three stared at them for a moment, then broke out into cheers and back slaps, laughing and teasing John about becoming a dad but congratulating you both.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price #captain johnathan price #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x you

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ih21506 · 2 days

Text

| Hidden feelings |

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Genre: fluff

Warning(s): Age gap (Dean: 26 Reader: 21), no use of Y/N

Summary: You’re Bobby Singer’s daughter, and after John died Sam and Dean come to stay with you.

——————————————————

Sam sighed as he walked back into the house, lifting your head you saw the defeated look on Sam’s face.

“No luck?” You asked as he sat in the seat at the table across from you.

“Nope…” He mumbled, his eyes then landed on the collage work in front of you.

“I bet you don’t miss any of this?” I said, and Sam breathed out a laugh.

“Actually, I kinda do sometimes,” He said and looked over some of my papers.

—

The evening soon came and you had just finished making dinner. Your father and Sam sat at the table as they began eating, but there was no sign of Dean.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” You excused yourself and walked outside.

Soon enough you found the Impala, with a light shining on it, and Dean was working under it with a flash light. When you leaned against the impala, Dean stopped whatever he was doing and began to roll himself out from under the car.

“Sam I told you-” Dean cut himself off when he saw you, “Oh, hey Sweetheart,”

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink at the nickname, and you turned your head slightly to try and hide it. You’ve always had a crush on Dean since you were both younger but knowing his reputation and that the feelings aren’t mutual, to your knowledge, so you always tried to suppress them.

“Are you… coming inside for dinner?” You asked as Dean stood up to get his next tool.

“I’m not hungry,” Dean said and went to lay back down when you gently grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“You’ve barely eaten since you got here,” You insisted, Dean looked down at your hand for a moment and you quickly pulled it away before he spoke again.

“I’m fine,” Dean told you, and a sigh slipped past your lips.

“Whatever,” You mumbled and went to walk away. You knew there was no way you’d be able to make Dean do what he didn’t want to do, so you just gave up now.

Suddenly your arms was grabbed and you was pulled back, now stood much closer to him than you was before. Dean practically towered over your smaller frame, your bodies were almost touching, and you faces were inches apart.

“I’ll eat later, happy?” He said to you and a small smile formed on your lips.

“Very,” You said back.

For a moment neither of you dared to move, until you forced yourself to step back away from him.

“I- I’ll… um, leave your food in the microwave,” You said while looking anywhere but at Dean, you then quickly walked away and back inside.

—

When Dean had finally decided to call it a night on fixing his car, he went back to the house. The first thing he noticed when he walked inside was the silence that filled the house and he figured everybody must have gone to bed by now.

As he walked down the hallway and past the living room, he briefly noticed the light coming from the tv.

Taking a step back, Dean looked into the room properly and saw ‘Friends’ playing on the TV, then his eyes moved to the couch where you laid with a blanket placed over you legs and waist.

Dean looked down the hall way and into the kitchen for a moment, then back at you, as he contemplated his next move.

Eventually, Dean stepped into the living room and walked over to where you laid. He pushed a piece of hair, that had fallen over your face, and tucked it behind your ear, taking a moment to admire how peaceful you looked while sleeping.

Snapping himself from his thought, and wondering what the hell he was doing, Dean slid his arms under your back and legs, so he could pick you up. Without waking up, you wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

Walking upstairs, with you in his arms, Dean walked towards your room and used his foot to push your door open. He took you over to your bed and gently placed you down, before pulling your covers over you.

“Don’t forget to eat,” You mumbled as you shifted onto your side and Dean felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips.

“I won’t, goodnight sweetheart,” Dean whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead, he then quietly left your room.

——————————————————

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #bobby singer #spn #spnfandom #supernatural x reader #fluff

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

Text

7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place.

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger.

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich.

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things?

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.”

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement.

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings.

And shit, you believed him.

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin.

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname.

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans.

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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lisenberry · 2 days

Text

We drift in and out

Chapter 3: Did I find you, or you find me?

E/NSFW/MDNI

CW: Consensual Somno, Light Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst

6k (I know, I went nuts)

10k COMPLETE!

This whole fic started with one picture of a man with hairy arms holding a baby. Everything that came after was a fever dream.

Ch. 1 , Ch. 2, AO3

You had one last night together. Eighteen short hours before a black Land Rover would pick him up and take him away. Off to catch a plane to some forward operating base in a remote, foreign place.

He’d been home with you for four months, by far his longest leave yet. With each day, you’d gotten more comfortable, wondering if maybe he’d become permanent. That instead of just playing house, you were living something real. Building something special together.

That your plans could change, and you could let the fearful part of you rest. That doubtful voice that kept you always prepared. Always on. The survival mode that kept you moving forward but also stopped you from slowing down long enough to breathe. To enjoy.

It was a skill that benefited you in your work. The single-minded attention to detail and success. And when you’d learned you were pregnant, it had kept you from giving into the panic of the unknown. But once she was born, you didn’t have a choice, but to sit with it all. The joy, and the exhaustion. Slow, blissful days had become your routine.

Now you were facing the plan again. The one he wasn’t in. You’d survive, of course, but the bleakness of it cut like a wound. You should’ve known nothing so perfect could last forever. Maybe you did know, deep down. Maybe he did, too, and that’s why you kept each other just a bit out of reach.

But you still had a little more time. A few more memories to make before it came to an uncertain end.

You popped out to Marks & Sparks for supplies to make dinner. It had become a little holiday for you in the last few months. He’d stay home with the baby, and you’d put on real clothes and do your hair and escape for a few hours to squeeze the fruits and smell the cheeses. Go aisle by aisle and daydream about new recipes to try.

Not this time. This time you hurried through as fast as you could. Wasted not a minute as you snatched up everything on your list and rushed to get back to them.

They weren’t in your apartment when got home, so you crossed the hall and knocked on the door to his.

“It’s open!” His voice rang from inside, as you tried the knob and walked in.

He had the baby’s highchair in the kitchen, and the dining room table set with fine china and candles. Music crooned from some hidden speaker, something classical you’d never heard before.

“What’s all this?” You asked, as you set down the bags of groceries on his counter.

“I thought we could eat out tonight. Something different.” He stood with his hands at his hips, and a burp cloth strung over his shoulder. A scheming smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. They didn’t crinkle at the edges the same way you’d gotten used to.

“You’re okay with me making a mess of your kitchen?” You teased. “You know I’ll use every pan and utensil at my disposal.”

Your place was lovely, but his side of the building had twice the space, and a balcony that overlooked Hyde Park. During the few times you visited, it had felt like stepping into a different world. Like a fancy hotel suite in a far-off country, in the way that it had visitors but never really felt lived in. Sanitized into a blank slate, adaptable to anyone who crossed the threshold in search of an escape from their mundane reality.

Or like a museum, it was a place that existed outside of time.

“You cook, I’ll clean up.” He leaned his hips back against the granite and opened his arms to it welcomingly.

It made sense that he’d want to spend his last night in his own home. His own bed.

“Suit yourself,” you plopped a smacking kiss on the baby’s downy head as she sat contentedly in her chair, chewing on a colorful toy.

When you turned your attention back to him, he waited patiently for his greeting. The longing with which he first looked at you and your daughter the day you’d come home was back again. It had seemed like the start of something then.

This time it felt like the end, as you pulled up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Short and sweet. If you hooked your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, like every corner of your soul was aching to do, you’d never let go.

The food would rot on the counter and the hard things would never get done.

So, you settled back down and unpacked the bags in front of you.

“Will you pick the wine? I’m making your favorite.”

In lifetimes past, you would’ve dressed up and gone to The Midland in King’s Cross for dinner. Fed each other oysters and champagne. Danced until the early hours of the morning and crashed wildly into bed. Shared a cigar afterwards, naked but for the shelter of each other’s arms.

This time, you made roast beef with fingerling potatoes, minty peas, and glazed carrots. Topped with gravy and with a side of Yorkshire pudding to sop it all up.

It’d be some time before the baby could join in on the feast, but she flailed with enthusiasm at the smells and the excitement with which the two of you ate. Oblivious to how much her lukewarm cereal and the bottle that she could now almost hold on her own paled in comparison.

In place of a West End show, there were airplane spoons and milky sneezes to keep you laughing. Something to focus on besides the future. Besides each other.

The chasm that was too deep and too far to cross, let alone name.

As if on cue, with the last sip of wine, she started to fuss. Fisted her eyes and arched her back in surrender as John rose to soothe her. You’d have many more nights to put her to bed, but who knew what awaited him. You gave him the time alone as you collected the place settings and started the cleaning that he’d promised you.

The little one sighed so heavily against his chest as she curled into him, burying her fingers in his shirt. You knew the feeling, ached for it as you silently cursed your ability to dirty so many dishes making a meal.

He was gone long enough for you to handwash the china and fill the dishwasher, and you wondered if she fought sleep, or if he simply lingered a little longer. Did he tell her a story, or share some secret that was just between them?

The polished wood floorboards creaked under his weight when he finally returned to the kitchen. There was a stiffness to his towering form, as if he was flexing under an invisible weight.

“Just in time. Everything’s already done,” you chided, gently, as you dried your hands on a towel.

“I set her up in the portable crib with the monitor. In the bedroom next to mine.”

“Her first sleepover.” You still couldn’t look at him. You hadn’t yet, had you? Not really. Not since he got the call earlier that day.

Since you’d told him he was never meant to be a part of your life. That you could live without him.

A lie that he’d surely seen through, but you needed to keep for yourself as you busied your hands and kept your back to him.

But he wouldn’t let you hide, as he stepped behind you and pulled you in.

“Don’t pull away. Please. Not yet.” He tucked his grizzled chin into the curve of your neck.

“I’m trying.” You let your head fall back against him, vaguely aware that the music was still playing. Something sad and slow as you swayed to the beat of it.

His hands rested on your hips as he spun you around to face him. If a kiss could fix everything, you gave it to him then. Did your best as you fisted his hair and pulled him down to you, while his palms roamed lower to cup your ass and lift you onto the counter.

Like meat and wine, you savored his lips and his tongue as he delved even deeper. Splitting you open and demanding more. Demanding everything.

Your shirt was over your head and his roughened fingers scratched along the skin of your back, massaging and kneading the sides of your spine while he unhooked your bra. The same muscles you’d kept rigid all day he coaxed into pliancy with each stroke as a weak moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s a girl. Be soft and sweet for me, will you?” He started off slow at the tip of your ear, trailing light, tickling kisses down the shell and to where the lobe met your neck.

It sent shivers down your arms, and your naked breasts budded to peaks as they grazed against the cool smoothness of his shirt. You didn’t want cool, or smooth, just heat and texture as you pulled it off his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his hips.

He groaned at the contact, a fierce and hungry sound as he took one of your hands and slotted it between you. Pressed your palm against the bulge in his pants and grinded against it, letting you feel the way it grew and hardened at your touch.

“Tell me you’ll miss me. Fucking lie to me, just say it,” he grated out, against your collarbone. Miss him? Lie to him? It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t. “I need to hear you to say it.”

“I miss you already,” you whined, as you slid your hands from his groin to his ass and anchored him closer to the dampening heat at your core.

“I’m right here.”

“Then take me to bed. And show me how much you’ll miss me.” It was your turn to grind against him, rubbing the bud of your arousal greedily along the lip of his fly through your thin linen pants as your tits bobbed wantonly against his furry chest.

“Not going to last long if you keep doing that, love,” he growled, lifting you up again and carrying you down the hallway. “I’d rather take my time.”

And he did, starting with his fingers, then his mouth. Drawing out each sensation like he was mapping the stars. Exploring the far reaches of your body and forging new paths until you were shaking and spent.

You marked him in return. Staked a claim on the meat of his pec with a dark red love bite as he came hard and hot inside your pulsating quim. Filled you up with a contented smile on his face, as if there was no better feeling in the world. No place he’d rather be.

“Be back before it fades, okay?” You nuzzled the hair around the spot with your nose as you drifted off beside him, his fingers lazily circling your hole to push the leaky drops of his seed back in.

Did he have hopes that it would take?

Did you?

Later, a strangled sound, like a wounded animal woke you from a fitful sleep. At some point, you must’ve turned to your side and faced away from him because he was behind you. Pulling at your hips and burying his head between your shoulder blades.

“John? What is it?”

“Just a dream. A bad dream.”

You felt the swell of his cock as he sought out the smooth shelter between your thighs. Arching against him instinctively, you curved onto your back and parted your legs as he absently rutted around to find your opening. Still brimming with the sticky spend from your last bout.

He’d always been a giver, but this one was just for him as he worked out his nightmare on your flesh, your insides, your soul. It felt like a battle. A whole damn war as he smothered you with his heavy, dead-weight body and took ground, pounding away at your sensitive, stimulated cunt.

You wondered if he was even awake, or if he was still in the dream, as he fucked into you roughly and muttered far away words. Bit back his own tears as they mixed with the sweat on your skin.

“Mine...Fucking mine...Not letting you go...Not to anyone else...”

Deprived of oxygen from his bulk on your chest, you almost blacked out with the force of your climax, caught by surprise at the way the mound of hair at his base aroused your clit into bloom with each thrust. A tenderness amidst the brutal onslaught. A divine mercy.

If you had air, you’d have screamed at the intensity of it. Spotty flashes of light broke the darkness as you felt the last of your spurting aftershocks flutter around him, soaking you both and easing the incinerating friction from the stretch of him.

You could only clench your teeth and your walls as he shuddered with the strength of his own fresh release. With his face buried in your shoulder, you knew he didn’t smile this time. The sorrow of it hit you like a blow to your heart as you felt him stiffen with awareness, the fog of sleep clearing from his consciousness.

“I’m yours. There’s no one else, John,” you panted, begged, as he eased up onto to his elbows to give you enough space to take a breath. “Only you.”

********

Before you knew it, the black Land Rover was waiting like a harbinger along the street below.

“Here’s the keys to the truck, and to my place. Just in case.” He tossed a set into the bowl you kept on the sideboard. “I know how much you’re dying to go spying in my cupboards.” He raised a amused eyebrow to match the gentle hitch in his mustache.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Except you totally would. At the first opportunity.

“Afraid of what you’ll find?”

“An expired box of Earl Grey in the kitchen, perfectly sorted socks in the bedroom. Stinky smelling beard oil in the bathroom.” You flashed a cheeky grin at the last, in an effort to keep the tone light.

If he could be strong, so could you. You wouldn’t be the one to break. No matter what you felt like on the inside. You’d save it for when he was gone.

“Beard oil? This is all natural.” As if you’d insulted his manhood, he smoothed his mustache down with two hands, in a way you’d seen him do a thousand times. He’d trained any willfulness from his facial hair with nothing but nose grease and perseverance. Molded by time and patience, like marble cliffs and silt-shined creek beds.

“But I was right about the socks though, wasn’t I?”

“And the tea.” He hitched his mouth into a smile and turned his focus to the gurgling baby perched on his hip, yapping and cooing like she was in on the conversation.

The way he looked at her gave you hope that he’d call it all off. He’d sit back down on the couch and turn on the football. Put his heavy feet up on your table and let his flight leave without him.

“I’m sure we can find some priceless antiques in there she can teeth on.” They would start coming in soon. Another change he’d miss.

“Look, you don’t have to wait.” He paused to clear the words he was looking for from his throat. “I understand if you—”

“I just got you, John,” you cut him off, saving him from the self-sacrificing speech, and looked down at her chubby fist wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around his finger. “You’re not getting rid of us yet.”

Don’t let go, sweetheart. Don’t let him go. You willed it into her with your own thoughts.

Your world had gotten so small since she was born. You’d gone from having a job that needed you, coworkers and clients with a network of responsibilities, down to having just one job.

One person who needed you.

But it would’ve been a lot smaller without him. How lonely would you have been without someone to share it all with? How much of him had seeped into your life, and your heart?

“Be nice to your mum,” he whispered against her soft head, as he kissed her cheek and passed her back to you quickly. Looking everywhere but at you. “You have Kate’s number? In case you need anything?”

You pulled him closer with your free hand to his waist, forcing him to see you. Eyes wide and blue, he looked scared. For the first time.

Anything more than a kiss to the forehead would have broken you both. You’d already said your goodbyes the night before, and again that morning. So, you simply tilted your head up to him, your own eyes kind and trusting, and felt his beard graze your skin one last time.

And then you watched him go.

********

By the third week, nothing in your apartment smelled like him anymore. Everything had been washed, and the windows had been left open too long to let in the cool fall breeze. Looking around, you realized that nothing in your home was his.

He’d come through your life with a force and left no trace behind, as if he was never even there. It wasn’t right. You wished with renewed clarity that you’d taken more pictures of him. That you’d recorded every moment.

Something to show your daughter, someday, if she ever questioned whether or not she was loved. Something you could show yourself, when your mind tricked you into believing it was just a dream.

It was the need to seek out that connection, that comfort, that had you unlocking the door to his flat and letting yourself inside. It was dark, and too quiet. Cold and cavernous, like he was the one who heated it and gave it light.

With the baby bouncing on your hip, you explored from room to room. Three bedrooms and four bathrooms. And still, you couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere there either.

His sheets had been washed since you’d spent the night. His bathroom scrubbed of any lingering soap by the cleaning company that came once a month to keep it free of dust and spiders while he was away.

Trapped in time until the next visitor passed through.

Your grief and frustration sprung anew as you moved into his office. Surely it would have something. The indent of his body in a leather seat, or the half-burnt end of a forgotten cigar.

But his chair was too firm to leave a crease, and his ashtray was clean.

There were no medals or honors hung along the walls, and the top of his desk was empty, except for one framed photo. It was exactly what you were looking for, but at the same time, something you never expected.

It was from four years before, when he’d talked you into running a marathon together for a charity for wounded veterans. You remembered the day clearly but never knew someone had taken a picture. It must’ve been at the end, because you were both dewy-faced and soaked in sweat, smiling like mad.

His arm was around your shoulder and yours was at his waist. You looked like a couple. Like you were in love. Was that how you always looked when you were together?

Was this what you’d been missing out on all this time?

Surely, there were others. You’d open a drawer and find photos of him with other people. His parents, his friends. Other women.

But as you pulled them apart one by one, you only found files of old bank statements and tax forms. Until you got to the bottom. A lone manila envelope, padded and thick.

With your name written in the wonky, hurried strokes of his hand.

Your own hands shook as you turned it over to find it sealed. He must’ve wanted you to see what was inside, or else it wouldn’t have your name on it.

Right?

It felt like paper, documents of some kind, but with something else to give it bulk. You shouldn’t have seen it, shouldn’t have gone digging through his stuff. But he’d known you were going to snoop. Had practically dared you to, didn’t he?

You tucked it back in where you’d found it. Whatever it was, he could give it to you when he came back. You’d promised him that you’d wait, and you would.

However long it took.

Just as you shut the drawer, your phone began to buzz in your pocket, jolting you guiltily as if you’d been caught. You took it out, expecting it to be just another spam call, but paused in immediate horror at the name across the screen.

(John’s) Kate

He’d saved the contact in your phone in case you needed to get in touch with him. You couldn’t think of a situation where you’d be justified in pulling his attention away from a job, but you could only think of one reason she’d be calling you.

“Hello,” you answered.

*******

Two hours later, your apartment was full. Well, there were only four guests gathered around your coffee table and perched with varying degrees of curiosity and tension along your couch and side chairs, but it felt overcrowded considering their size.

Three men that you’d never seen before, and then there was Kate. Somehow, she took up just as much space as they did. She carried herself with an air of authority that made your spine straighten reflexively.

“He didn’t tell us he had a family.” The clean cut one in the ball cap, who’d introduced himself as Kyle, spoke first as you poured him a cup of tea. “We all wanted to express our support in person.”

“There wasn’t much to tell until recently,” you smiled, slightly, trying to be a good hostess despite the circumstances.

“You’ve been his emergency contact for the last five years,” Kate added as she declined your offer of milk and sugar.

“I didn’t know that.” That was as long as you’d known each other. Did he really not have anyone else?

“He’s a very private man.” She did you the favor of talking about him as if he wasn’t gone. As if there was still hope.

“How did you know about it?” MacTavish, the stocky Scot with the close-cut mohawk intoned back to her, with a bristling hostility you couldn’t miss.

“I’m CIA. It’s my job to know everyone’s secrets.”

You thought maybe she was trying to make a joke, but her face was dead serious.

“We never would have let him—” He looked regretfully from you to your baby as the blond one with the black surgical mask cut him off with a supportive hand to his knee.

“Have any of you ever successfully talked him out of something once he’d put his mind to it?” You looked around at the faces of the men staring back at you. The people he spent all his time with when he wasn’t with you. “I’m sure that’s why he didn’t tell you. Afraid you’d treat him differently if he was a real person.”

Perhaps for the same reason he’d never told you how he felt. Afraid to make it something real. Something it would hurt to lose.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, please,” you continued, bracing for the worst.

“A massive fuck up from the beginning, is what it was—” Kyle interjected, heatedly, before he was interrupted by a pointed look from Kate.

“It’s mostly classified, of course. So, we can’t go into details. But John requested an indefinite leave of absence about four months ago. In the interim, his team was assigned to assist another task force in a sensitive operation.” She spoke evenly as if reciting a sequence of events before a committee.

And you listened, all the while searching for the bits she left unsaid. The parts that she hid behind her narrative.

Phrases like, ‘severe loss of life’, ‘pinned down in hostile territory’, and ‘unable to ascertain status’, were cold, calculated ways of saying something went horribly wrong.

You weren’t a naïve civilian who devoured sound bites at face value. You worked with government contracts all the time. American, British. They were all the same. ‘Cover your ass,’ was their collective motto.

When she finished, you had more questions than answers. But one thing stood out in your mind. He hadn’t been home for so long by accident. He’d chosen to stay. He’d given up his team, indefinitely, to be with you.

“So, if I understand correctly, it was a massive fuck up. You him called away, despite his clear wishes to be left alone, to save your ass and theirs.” You turned your attention from Kate over to the team. “And he got you out. And you left him behind?”

He’d quit for you. But he’d gone back for them.

“Not willingly.” The one in the mask, Lieutenant Riley, spoke up for the first time. His eerily dark eyes shot daggers at Kate, as if the fault was hers.

“He knew what he was doing. We needed to reassess the objective and regroup. And I’m available to discuss it at length with you another time, Lieutenant.”

“We know he’s alive.” MacTavish reassured you. “If he was dead, they’d be broadcasting his body and celebrating all over the dark web.”

Oh, what a relief. The visual turned up bile your throat.

“And if he’s been taken prisoner or something?”

“He’s an exceptionally valuable hostage. We’ll have a few weeks at least, while they interrogate him, before he’s ransomed.”

Tortured, she meant. The bile turned to acid, and you forced yourself not to be sick.

“So, what now?” You were in a daze. Kate’s firm, rational, voice grounded you and kept you present when all you wanted to do was breakdown. To scream and cry and pound your fists against their chests to get back out there and find him.

Her position demanded it, you imagined. Judging by the tension flowing between the team, they ached to do just that. It was as if they were held back by some invisible muzzle. Reined in by years of service. One strong woman was all that kept them from charging off to take matters into their own hands.

“We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have news,” Kate answered, softer than before. Perhaps aware that her words alone held little comfort. That they were as grim as hollow condolences. “But here, standard protocol. We had it stripped of anything sensitive. There’s only a few pictures and text messages left. It’s unlocked.”

She handed you his battered old phone. The screen was scratched up, and the case was cracked enough to be useless protection. You didn’t think they even supported this model anymore. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw it.

‘It’s busted to bloody hell, but still hanging on’, he’d said about it once with a proud laugh. You prayed that he was the same, wherever he was.

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you all,” you replied, politely, suddenly anxious to be alone. To fall apart in peace. “I wish it was under better circumstances. Maybe next time we can have a drink and a proper laugh. When he’s home.”

“We’ll get him back, Mrs. Price.” It was Kyle who pulled you into a hug, as if you were family. “I promise.”

It was the first time anyone had called you that, and you didn’t correct him. In the moment, it was a comfort. A universal truth that you longed to hear from someone else’s lips.

The others followed suit with their goodbyes, but their warmth and concern were a shallow replacement for the man you were missing. Kate settled for a stoic handshake before you closed the door on them all and set your back against it for support.

The phone in your hand was heavy as you pulled it up to see his text messages, looking for any possible clue or something to keep hope alive. There were a few off color jokes between him and his mates. Notes to you about what was for dinner, and silly photos he’d taken of the baby.

One single text exchange with Kate. As if he’d deleted them as soon as they came in. Or perhaps Kate had wiped them as part of her pruning. It was from four months prior.

I hope you know what you’re doing.

Never more certain in my life.

Were they talking about you? Of his choice to leave? It reminded you of something else he’d left behind. Something you’d forgotten in the whirlwind of the last few hours.

When you held the envelope again in your hands, you didn’t think twice about ripping through the seal. Inside was a stack of handwritten letters, all dated and signed with his name.

You focused on the one on top, from the day before he’d left.

Hey love,

If you’re reading this, then something must’ve happened to me. Or your curious nature got the best of you, and you went snooping around my desk.

I hope it’s the latter because it’s time you knew, and who knows when I’ll get the courage to tell you myself. But if it’s the former, then I’m sorry.

I can’t say I’m surprised, though. There’s only so many times I can dare death to find me before it wins. You just have to know that I did my best, for whatever it’s worth.

I never felt like I could have a family. I didn’t deserve that sort of peace after the things I’ve done. I’ve taken too many lives to have any chance at a happy one. Killed too many sons to be entitled to any of my own.

It’s been my purpose. What I’m good at. And I never wanted to bring that burden home to anyone else.

Then I saw you again after I made myself a promise to stay away from you this time. You were so fearless and calm. I just wanted to be near you. Close enough that you might scare away the darkness in me.

If someone like you, and her, could trust me and see any good in me, then maybe I’m not such a monster after all.

You made me believe in fate. In something bigger that was beyond my control. I just hope that it’s not done with me yet. That it’s not done with us.

If this is the end, then I just want to say thank you and leave you with everything. Everything that I have, and everything that I left unsaid.

These letters are from all the other times I’ve done this. The other missions that called me away since we met, in the event that I didn’t come back. You were the only thing worth coming home to, and I’m sorry I didn’t share them sooner.

If you’re just being nosy, and I’m already warm in our bed with the baby drooling on my chest, I hope I’ve already told you a thousand times how much I love you. How lucky I am to have known your love in return.

And I hope you’re already wearing one of these rings. I couldn’t decide which one, so I’ll let you choose. They’ve been in my family for ages. All yours now.

All my heart, John.

The pages were flooded with salty tears by the time the jingle at the bottom of the envelope caught your attention. Five different rings. Yellow and white gold, glistening diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. Old and new.

But not yet. You didn’t dare to touch them yet. Didn’t choose. You believed in fate, too. He wasn’t gone, and it wasn’t the end.

*******

The next days passed by in a blur, waiting by the phone. You were thankful for the baby, as she didn’t let you wallow or crumble the way you wanted to. There were still diapers to change, and bottles to fill. Smiles to fake and colic to soothe.

You wondered if she missed him, too. If she even noticed he was gone.

It was three in the morning when you got the call, and you shot up in bed, sleep quickly forgotten when you answered. You didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

“John!”

“Hiya, darling.” His voice was a faint groan of relief.

“Where are you?” You held the phone away from your face just long enough to see the long, foreign number with a country code you couldn’t place. “Does Kate know where you are?”

“I don’t have a lot of time. I’m in the blind. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You flung off your covers and rushed to your computer. He was in trouble.

“I’m here. Are you hurt?”

“Not bad.” You could hear him smiling, the way the words huffed out through pained lips. It was definitely bad.

You had to keep him talking, to stay on the line long enough for you to work. The laptop took forever to start up. You hadn’t used it since you’d left your employment, and it must’ve needed a hundred updates. But you didn’t have time as your fingers trembled anxiously over the keys.

This was what you did. This was your job. You designed software that could find people. Find targets. Needles in the giant haystack that was the world.

You set the phone to speaker mode and plugged it in to your program.

“Whose phone is this, John?” It would be encrypted, you presumed. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to have its location turned on.

“An old friend. I’d put him on, but he’s not with us anymore, I’m afraid. Poor fellow took a fall.” Another gurgled laugh. “But his name was Makarov. When you talk to Kate, tell her the mission’s complete.”

“You can tell her yourself. You’re going to be fine. Just keep talking to me.”

You buzzed through lines of code, searching for the one you needed.

“How’s the poppet? Is she being a good girl?”

“She’s sleeping. She’s okay. Misses you. Can’t wait to see you.”

Got it! You broke through the encryption and pinned his location using satellite GPS.

“It’s not looking good, love.”

“Do you believe in fate, John?” You asked, as you used your laptop’s connection to call Kate.

There was a reason you’d met each other. You were certain now that nothing had been by chance. You were meant to find him. You were meant to find each other.

“Ah, went pawing through my drawers, did you? Which ring did you pick?”

“I’ll show you when you get home,” you promised as the line finally connected. “Kate! I know where John is. You have to hurry.”

You sent her the coordinates to the exact centimeter. He was deep underground, in some kind of a bunker. Or an old mineshaft. To her credit, Kate didn’t argue or ask where you got your intel.

Two hours later, you were still on the phone with him. The light began to creep slowly through the curtains, bringing with it a brand new day. But his breath had slowed, and his words came thicker from his throat.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You didn’t let him sense your fear as you quietly willed your life into him, to keep him hanging on.

Where the fuck were they?

The line had gone too quiet when you heard the blast.

“John! John, what was that?” You prayed it was the team, and not a fresh wave of enemy combatants come to finish the job.

“In here!” John’s voice, with a renewed strength.

“Bravo-7 to Watcher. Eyes on Bravo-6. We’ve got him.” You heard Lieutenant Riley’s unmistakable accent breakthrough as he got closer to the phone. “Have med-evac waiting topside. He’s in rough shape.” He switched from his comms to John. “Can you walk, Cap?”

“Well, you aren’t fucking carrying me, Ghost. That’s for bloody sure.”

“Please don’t leave me.” The tears that you finally let fall were of release. Of relief. You didn’t know if he still held the phone, or if it lay forgotten on the ground as they carried him away.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

#call of duty #john price #captain price #price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141

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eli0004 · 20 hours

Note

Any Levi headcanons you’d like to share with the audience 🥹

Whew😮‍💨 Anon, as a dedicated Levi stan of multiple years, you know i do!

Pairing: Levi x GN! Reader

Synopsis: Random relationship hcs!!! Woohoo!

Warnings: Levi struggling with emotions, gossiping, mentions of substance use, very slight nsfw implication

Levi isn’t really someone who cares too much about what music he listens to. He’ll listen to whatever you put on, even if it’s like…loud angry metal, he’ll sit there like 😬 Yes this is great i love it and i’m absolutely not horribly overstimulated right now. He just likes to see you happy.

This man is made of 100% husband material. He thrives living the quiet married life, and feeling appreciated and loved for doing the simplest, most menial household chores.

For the most part, if you were to ask him if he wants children i think he would say no, but then he watches you interact with children and it patches up this broken place inside of him, and suddenly he’s dreaming of little feet pattering around the house.

If he accidentally hurts your feelings with some dumb joke he made, he will feel intensely guilty. It will eat him alive, he can’t believe himself. But he also has no idea how to say that, so he’ll just make you tea and torture himself over it.

Even if you’re years into your relationship with him and living together, he still gets butterflies when he sees you again after a long day. You’re his solitude, his safe place, his home isn’t a home without you there in it.

He likes to listen to you gossip with your friends. Every once in a while he’ll pipe in and share his thoughts on something, and you’re like…? Since when did you start paying attention to this?

He has a high tolerance for alcohol, but half an edible has him absolutely faded. It’s actually ridiculous. And high Levi is so soft and sleepy, and he seems so genuinely relaxed, it’s a blessing to be able to witness him in that state.

Levi is hardly interested in status symbols, and values practicality over luxury. In a modern AU he probably drives a slightly beat up older classic car, but has no idea it’s a classic, so when car people compliment it he’s like ??? Tf

He’s a slightly picky eater, but if you make dinner one night and it doesn’t look appetizing to him, he’ll gather every ounce of courage in his body to take a bite and try it for you, since you went out of your way to make him something.

He has a keen sense of smell, and he loves fresh, fragrant aromas. He definitely stops in the candle aisle in the grocery store to smell all of them, and then gives himself a massive headache.

When you get out of the shower and smell all nice and clean, that shit gets him so bricked up.

I mentioned this before in another post, but if you ask him to pick something up from the store and it’s on a shelf he can’t reach, he will literally leave that store and go to a different one. He’s not going to ask the 16 year old cashier girl to help him reach it, and he’s definitely not climbing the shelves like a mad man. You’ll just have to wait a while longer.

Literally blushes from ear to ear when you call him pretty, or cute. If he gets compliments on his physical appearance, it’s usually said that he’s “sexy” or “handsome” which are still great things to hear, but it’s about the loving adoration in your eyes and the gentleness with which you touch his face. The genuine honesty behind your compliments, and the way it feels like you see something in him that nobody else does.

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 2 days

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7

Azriel x Reader Fic

WARNING:

I wanted to give you a heads-up that the following portion of this fic contains mentions of rape. While it does not go into graphic detail or describe the actual event, it does acknowledge that it is happening, focusing more on the feelings of the character. There is also a short secondary scene involving an attempted rape, but again, it is not described in detail and the scene ends before the assault can take place.

Please read at your own comfort level. If this content makes you feel uncomfortable, that's completely okay. I see you, I hear you, and I deeply appreciate you taking care of yourself. To ensure you don't miss any plot points, I will provide a brief summary in a follow-up post available at this same time. It will not mention the assault. You can look for it under "Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7, Summary".

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of rape, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author's Note:

This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Throughout the rest of the day, you continued to watch the soldiers below, noting the times when the camp seemed quiet and when it was bustling with hundreds of males. An uneasy feeling gripped your shoulders as you felt trapped, reminiscent of being confined in your cabin in the mountains. You were unsure of Azriel's true intentions, despite his kindness, and you didn't want to wait around to find out. You decided you would leave tonight.

You took one of the pillows out of its linen lining, stuffing the naked pillow under the bed before placing your stored food and small collection of knives into the pillowcase and pushing that under the bed as well. You took the ribbon that Anthea had used to tie back your hair and looped it over a few times, securing the hunting knife Azriel had given you in the inner lining of your pants where it couldn't be seen. The only thing that gave you pause was your lack of shoes. Azriel had taken your shoes when you were brought here, and while you wanted them back, asking for them would raise suspicions. Your feet would have to endure the cold. You also gathered a few candle sticks and empty bottles from around the room, intending to use them for collecting water.

When Anthea brought your dinner, a simple stew, you made an effort to eat every bite, savoring the warmth and preparing yourself for the uncertainty ahead. As she left, a sense of guilt washed over you—escaping a place where she clearly couldn't, if you could escape at all. The fear of continued confinement overwhelmed your fear of being caught. You half thought of bringing her with you, but her uneasy demeanor and the length of time she had been here made you question her ability to survive outside. If you could, you would someday return for her.

You perched by the window, watching as Azriel left for the evening. He didn't come to see you for the rest of the day, which was fine by you. When he was far enough away, you slid from your perch, grabbed the pillowcase of supplies from under the bed. You eyed the swords and axes, but when you went to pick one up, the heft of it caused your side to scream at you, and you decided it would slow you down too much to travel with it. You slipped out the door, ignoring the groaning protest from your aching side.

You found yourself in a small hallway, your room at the end. You made your way down towards the light radiating from below, the cold hardwood floor squeaking beneath your feet. Two other rooms were on this level, each with identical dark wooden doors. At the end, you descended the narrow stairwell to the lower level of the house. At the base was a modest living room with a large mantle, a red sofa, a dining room table with two chairs, and a meager-looking kitchen. Your heart raced too fast to take in much of your surroundings. Behind the stairs was a door that seemed to lead out the back—a welcome relief from having to walk out the front door. You pressed the door open and were immediately met with the smell of wet earth and excrement. Your lips curled in disgust as you pressed your sleeved arm to your nose and walked out, the mud squelching beneath your feet and oozing between your toes. You clambered up the hill, the fires being lit for the evening illuminating your path. Once you hit the treeline, you felt a renewed sense of peace as you continued forward, bumbling in the dark.

Patrols would be in these woods, you were sure of that, and the best you could do was remain as silent as possible. You continued onward, occasionally freezing at the sound of a shifting branch but otherwise mostly alone. The cold mud made your legs shiver, and goosebumps erupted over your body. You silently wished you had brought one of those furs with you.

You must have only been fifteen minutes away from the camp when you heard what sounded like quiet sobs, followed by male grunting. Your heart stopped in your chest as you listened, the sobs sounding inherently female while the male groaned and moaned. As you walked closer, the sobs became clearer, and the male grunting louder. You realized the female was Anthea, from the small squeaks she let out.

You stopped dead in your tracks, recognizing the sounds of the crying. Your mind raced as you considered your options. There was no way this was of her own accord. Knowing what you did about Illyrian males and the way females shrank around them, you knew this wasn’t the first time this had happened to Anthea. Steeling yourself, you moved closer to the sounds, the light of a single lantern shining in the distance. As the sounds grew louder, the bile in your throat rose as you heard the male, between his animalistic grunts and groans, praising his victim. You had been in her place before. You had felt what she was feeling, and the anger that grew in you bloomed into a red-hot fire.

You pulled the knife from your pants lining, gripping the handle hard within your fist, dropping the pillowcase behind you, long forgotten as you started to see red. Swallowing the rock in your throat, you moved towards the light and, without thinking, hurled yourself forward.

Your blade slashed through the wings of the male, and he howled, throwing you off him. His pants were still around his ankles as he turned to face you, breathing ragged. His face. Suddenly it all came back: the three Illyrian men, the tree, the storm. Darian.

Anthea slunk away, pressing herself against a tree, tears streaming down her scarred face.

“You,” the male hissed. “I thought you fucking died.”

You said nothing, holding the now-bloody knife as you struggled to your feet.

Darian pulled his trousers back up, tying them in place while licking his lips hungrily. “You’re going to wish you had died when I’m done with you.”

You pushed yourself upright. Though smaller than the others, he still towered over you, his wings flared out in anger, red blood streaming from the gash you had cut. He drew a long serrated hunting knife from his side, flipping it in his hand with ease, as if to show you the weapon he intended to gut you with. You swallowed any notion of fear and steadied yourself, crouching slightly to stabilize your body. The male smirked at your attempt. “Little kitty wants to play?” he laughed, crouching lower as well.

Without a sound, you launched yourself forward, your shoulder connecting with his upper chest, pushing him back slightly. Seemingly taken aback by your strength, the male stumbled and then laughed. “Strong one,” he hissed. “I like fighters, unlike that one over there.” He gestured to Anthea. “She stopped fighting a long time ago.”

His comment sent a new wave of rage through you. You yelled gutturally, slashing forward in a few long strides, but the male sidestepped immediately. When he was next to you, he wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you tight against him. His scent turned your stomach as he leaned in close, sending his tongue up the side of your face. “Delicious,” he purred as you desperately reached to loosen his grip.

He lifted you from the ground, his continuous pressure on your neck closing your windpipe. The familiar white lining of blacking out began to creep into your vision. You gasped, your nails digging into his hardened skin as he gripped places on your body that recoiled from his touch. He laughed into your ear, breathing you in.

In a moment of panic, you clawed wildly at his face, successfully scratching a long, bloody line down his cheek and through his eye. The male yelled in pain, loosening his grip enough for you to fall to your knees, choking on the air that filled your lungs. “You bitch!” he screamed, covering his eye as he picked up his knife and stabbed it down towards you. You rolled out of the way quickly, the knife digging into the forest floor.

Ignoring the pain in your side, you stood and looked over at Anthea, who sat frozen against the tree. You stumbled over to her, croaking out, “Come on!” But Anthea merely looked at you, her eyes glazed over the same way they were when Azriel touched her, the same way you knew you looked when your mate had done this to you over and over again. “Anthea, we have to go. Now!” you urged, but she didn’t move.

Darian got to his feet, turning towards you, rage embodied. You glanced back at the trembling, half-clothed Anthea, but before you could say anything, your feet were carrying you deeper into the forest. The male came barreling after you, howling insults and threats. Your throat raw from where he had choked you, hot tears poured down your face as you ran into the midnight black. But the male was faster and more calculating. Before you made it far, he grabbed your shoulder and slammed you to the ground. The air was knocked from your lungs as you cried out.

Darian, bleeding from his cheek, laughed. “Thought you could get away?” he taunted.

He straddled you, his hulking body pressing into your midsection as he fumbled with his pants. Even in the night, you heard the sound of rope untying. You screamed, blood-curdling, begging him to stop. Your hands flew up, only for him to grab your wrists, his hands caked in blood as he tried to work your pants down. You kept screaming, begging for anything, anyone. The male laughed into your face.

Just when you thought it was all going to begin, the beginning of your end, the male screamed and lurched backward. Behind him stood Anthea, holding your knife, lodged in Darian's back. Her eyes were still glazed over. In an instant, he turned around, tackling Anthea, pulling his own knife from his holster and plunging it repeatedly into her neck and chest, howling curses at her.

You lay on the forest floor, unable to stop what was happening as Anthea was almost dead upon impact. You let out a hollow shriek, screaming for him to stop hurting her.

“Y/N!” someone called out, followed by the crashing of woodland underbrush breaking around whoever was running. You were still screaming as Azriel cleared the last fallen log and took in the sight. The male, so enraged, didn’t even turn to see Azriel. Azriel ran to you, wrapping you in his arms, and then a whoosh of cold wind carried you away from the forest.

Author's Note:

Due to the sensitive content in this chapter, I have chosen not to tag anyone. Those who requested tags will be tagged in the summary chapter instead.

I understand that rape and sexual assault are deeply troubling and painful topics in our society. I wrestled with the ethics of writing about these themes and considered whether this addition would move the story forward or if it would be better left out. I am aware that some depictions in novels and fanfictions can be harmful, as they may glorify or misuse these themes. That is not my intention at all.

My writing often reflects my journey toward healing and understanding myself in more complex and holistic ways. While I recognize that such writings don't always need to be shared, my connection to these characters, their pasts, and their traumas compelled me to include this subject matter. I frequently ask myself if scenes involving power and control over another character can be portrayed without depicting non-consent or sexual assault. If possible, I avoid these topics altogether. However, I chose to include this scene because of the ongoing systemic oppression of women in these novels, particularly Illyrian women. I aim to do justice to these characters and highlight the complex systems of oppression both in fiction and in our world.

I am still learning how to share my art with others, and my art includes a part of myself. I hope you understand that my intentions are not to use these themes as mere plot devices or for shock value, but rather to serve a greater purpose.

Please take care of yourself and make choices that honor your well-being. Know that you are loved, cared for, and valuable.

Thank you for allowing me to explore this topic. I'll see you in the next part.

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fishsticksloser · 11 hours

Note

I have another idea for requesttttt >:D

Okay, so the request is for rottmnt boys (obv) with S/O that loves beach (swimming is the ehh part) mostly just spending hours looking for seashells, sea glass, stones, etc. SO, whenever S/O gives the boys gifts even small once, they always find one or few seashells with the present like a small charms >^<

Thanks ahead🫧

-Ed

Collecting Shells

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: thank you @mapleleavesart for your help with this! I've been struggling a lot and I'm so happy to have your support.

Donnie

He's always making you gadgets and stuff

You didn’t really need them

Only half of them didn’t blow up

Donnie had to figure out a better way to make you happy with his gifts

Since he thought you didn’t like them cause you weren’t using them much (he feels guilty when they blow up)

So he starts watching you carefully

What made you smile the most, what got you excited

When y’all went to the pier and you immediately started picking at the sand

And handing him glass and rocks that were similar in color to his skin/eyes/etc

He realized that you loved collecting this kinda stuff

About a week later he makes you a little music box

Which is pretty nice all on its own

You thought it was just a plain jewelry box at first

He urges you to open it, there’s shells and seaglass inside

Along with an oyster necklace

And your favorite song playing inside

Donnie is very proud of this one and is eager for your inevitable praise

He'll occasionally make you more jewelry and such out of the sea glass, especially the ones you said reminded you of him

Leo

My guy goes above and beyond with this one honestly

You like to collect sea shells, sea glass, cool rocks, etc?

He is going with you to collect stuff

He’ll go out on his own on nights you two can’t talk and go to the beach and looks for stuff you like

This boy is so desperate for attention and approval

He’ll give you a handful of stuff the next time you see each other

His tail wags when he sees you get excited about it

Every time he thinks of you he’ll portal another one (shell, sea glass, etc) from his secret stash

He starts leaving some in odd, innocuous places

You find them for months to come

In your kitchen, your bathroom, on countertops or desks right where you can see them

Others are hidden in drawers or cabinets

You found one in a pot as you were making dinner once

But once he portaled it on your desk while you were working

You smile when you realize that he’s thinking of you as often or more often as you think about him

Mikey

Mikey also loves cool rocks

He stacks them

You’ve made a few towers with him once

He’ll hand you any pretty rock that reminds him of you

One beach trip he ran up to you and said “look! It matches your eyes”

He put it in your hand, smiled, and dashed off again

He decided to paint you the beach But it didn’t look complete

He went to the beach and took some sand and a few shells and pieces of sea glass

He laid out glue on the canvas

Sprinkled the sand over the beach part of the painting

And placed the shells and sea glass purposefully

It gave the piece some nice texture and some visual interest

Then he gifted it to you and insisted you hung it up in your room

So that, even when you were home, you have a part of the beach watching over you

He was so happy to show it to you, and to have his artwork hanging in your room

Raph

Raph knitted you a sweater

Put it in a bag with your favorite colored tissue paper

When you opened it and saw the sweater you thought that was it, because he had been promising to knit you something for ages

However, upon his urging you looked at the bottom of the bag

There was a small wooden box

Like the ones at craft stores that were meant to be painte

You open it

There’s a small collection of sea glass and rocks that you'd given him

You love it regardless

Raph grins and hugs you, picking you up as you both laugh

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aireia · 2 hours

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Am I the ocean you dream of? -- Nanami Kento

tw/cw: gn! reader, angst angst angst, hurt no comfort, nanami's dead.

note: it's almost 1AM. —masterlist

The sound of whirring engines and conversations filled your ears. You leaned back on your seat and looked out the window, the clouds are unhappy today. A sigh left your lips, and you flipped open the small book in your hand. Well, book wasn’t exactly the right word. It was more of a journal, a diary, even. More specifically, the diary of your late lover, Nanami Kento.

Your eyes scanned over the neat cursive handwriting you would’ve recognised in a room stacked to the brim with papers, and you closed your eyes, then tried to remember how you got here in the first place.

Ah, there it was. You remember how empty you felt the few weeks after the Shibuya incident. You should have convinced him harder to not go, but you knew what he was like. If he is needed, he will show up, even more so because the students were there. Your eyebags were heavy and your movements were sloppy around the apartments as you cleaned through some of the things Nanami owned, and you came across a book with a leather cover, the one you’d always see him write in at night.

You knew it was an invasion of his privacy, but curiosity got the best of you. You turned the cover and for minutes, you just stood there, staring at the words on the first page. There was nothing there, just his name, and a date. The date of your anniversary, that is. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had started a new book because it symbolised a new chapter of his life with you, or that he had run out of pages in his old journal.

You flipped to the second page, and there it was. “I bought roses to confess to y/n today.” You gulped as you continued reading. “They’re currently asleep on my couch. I’ll leave them something to eat tomorrow because I need to head out early.”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you continued reading, and one specific page caught your eye.

“Maybe I’ll bring them to Malaysia for a holiday. Kuantan seems like a good place.”

Right. He’s talked to you about it before, and the last time he’s mentioned it was a while before he got busy with work, always coming home with different bruises and injuries. Hell, he even told you that he thought about moving there with you.

And here you are now, on a seven hour flight from Japan to Malaysia. Your tired eyes continue scanning over the words, and now you aren’t sure whether you’re just staring at the words or actually reading, because you’ve found yourself reading Nanami’s diary at night when you’re unable to sleep. The thoughts you’ve read inside were all things he’d whisper into your ear at night, and those nights you’ve had the book in your hands as you read through, a faint voice of his remains at the back of your mind, as if he were the one reading to you instead.

There was one in particular that you kept going back to. You remember the one time both of you were extremely tired, but Nanami had insisted on cooking dinner for the both of you. He ended up overseasoning the food, and it was too salty to be edible. You laughed at how many times he tried to apologise while you were busy giggling to yourself about how the ‘great cook Kento’ had finally messed up his cooking.

Now, as you close your eyes as the plane begins its take off, you realise there’s no one’s shoulder for you to rest your head on when you fall asleep.

When you open your eyes again, everything is blurry, but you can feel the plane finally land on the solid ground. You’re here. The flight attendants see the passengers off the door, and the message the captain spoke through the speakers stuck in your mind.

“For those returning to Malaysia, welcome home.”

How you wished that were the case for you now.

You collected your suitcases and went through the standard procedures, and the first thing you realised the moment you walked out the door was how hot Malaysia was as compared to Japan during this time. It’s winter in Japan, but it’s always summer in Malaysia.

It wouldn’t be so bad living here, maybe. Then he wouldn’t need to hear you complain about the cold in winter.

You booked a cab to your hotel. You purposely booked one near the beaches, so that you could walk to the beach after you got checked in.

Though, that wasn’t really the case. You’re exhausted. Both from the flight and everything you’ve been through the past few months. The moment you got into your room, even though the sun was blaring hot outside, you just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next few days you were here.

You’ve been telling yourself these days that Nanami’s had it worse, and he was more tired than you were, than you’ll ever be, but now, you’re in Malaysia, wanting to live his dreams for him… And suddenly, it all felt so wrong. You’re alone here, but where was he? He didn’t get to be here with you.

Somehow, through your vision that was muddled by your tears, you convinced yourself to go to the beach. Perhaps it’s the final page of his diary you never brought yourself to read, the one he wrote the night before the Shibuya incident.

“If anything happens, I’ll be waiting for them by the ocean.”

The calming sounds of the waves instantly reached your ears, and you took your sandals off before stepping onto the warm sand. With each step, the sand slots itself in between your toes, a tingling feeling you’ll probably never get rid of. You knew you’d never find him here. Maybe at the bottom of the ocean, he’d be waiting for you as a siren.

The breeze of the ocean blew by, sticking to your hair. You walked towards the ocean and stepped into the water, shivering from how cold it was. You then crouched down and dipped your finger into the waves, and for a moment, you hesitated before bringing it to your mouth and licking it. You almost immediately regret your decision, laughing at yourself for how idiotic you must have looked.

You breathed out heavily after, before trying your hardest to put on a genuine smile and smiling at the ocean.

“It’s salty.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

#signed by aireia!#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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bbbuckaroo · 3 days

Text

Love Actually is All Around (re: @plutobuckley headcanon inspo)

For @plutobuckley's headcanon post I just couldn't scroll past:I wanna see domestic bucktommy. I wanna see them having dinner or enjoy an evening together at one of their places, a night in if you will. And then I wanna see one of the firefam and Co. just show up at the door. Give me exasperated boyfriend's cause their family members are having personal drama and feel the need to tell them!

Once I got this in my head I couldn't think of anything but Christmas, mostly due to Tommy's quip to Hen about a Christmas card. So Happy Very Early Christmas in July everyone!

Hen had stopped by to hand deliver their family’s Christmas card this year, seeing the way Tommy’s eyes went soft and shiny at the sentiment. “I know it’s a few years overdue so I wanted to make sure I hand delivered it.” She found the two men in a sea of wrapping paper and bows, Buck fussing over the cut Tommy had gotten on his finger curling ribbon (oddly enough there was a matching one on the other finger) before he hastily dove into the pile to hide Hen’s present. "No peeking!"

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fic #bucktommy headcanon #buck x tommy #buck x tommy fic #buck x tommy headcanon #911 fire fam #911 fic #all the christmasy domesticity #happy early christmas #like really early #figured the fandom could use some christmas cheer

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milflewis · 3 months

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#in a strange place today and i need to put this somewhere. i do not have a journal yet. this is it #my grandad was diagnosed with dementia years ago and the grandad i have now is often unrecognisable from the one i grew up with #and while this like isn’t fun and it is strange for him to look at me and not know me more times than he does. it has also been kind of l #lovely?#bc he thinks my granny is still alive so whenever i get to go see him i get to pretend she is too. and she is for a minute. and tho i am #glad she went before him. it is nice to say oh i’m popping in to see her after this grandad and talk about her like she’s hasn’t been gone #since i’ve been ten. my dad has spoken more to him in the last five years than he has his whole life #he was not an easy man. he was loud and friendly and hard working and funny and scary but not easy. in ways he is even #harder now. in others he is easier.#he is more of a child. this is what dementia can do to a brain. we are learning things about his childhood that no one alive has ever spoken #about. that no one knew. my dad doesn’t love him more now but he understands him better #my grandad taught me how to drive a tractor and how to fish through my dad and he has not recognised me in over a year and he #hasn’t walked since he broke his pelvis seven years ago and his muscles are nearly all gone. he is a fraction of the size he used to be. his #personality and body took up my childhood like adults on the screen in cartoons. he hasn’t dressed himself in a decade. he told one of the #nurses that after dinner he wanted ice cream plain like herself and nearly peed when she laughed and told him to fuck off #he is in there. he is himself. i know him. but he isn’t. he doesn’t know me but he allows me to tell him how to ppl he knows are doing. he #still somehow trusts me. we talk a lot about my granny and how she stayed up watching tv again last night so she’s tired today. don’t stay #long when you call in to see her?#whenever we would journey to see him and my granny and get in v late he’d ask us if we wanted apple tart and my granny would say michael.#not ur kids. u can’t parent them. he didn’t know my name yesterday but he asked me if i wanted apple tart #i hope he dies soon. for all that i will miss this. miss my dad having this. he would not want to live like this. it wouldntbe living to him

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cactusdodes · 1 year

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#i woke up the other morning and on my way to work it popped in my head to break up with my partner #i love them and they're so fucking sweet and good to me and we've hardly had any issues. never had a fight and we've been together 5 months #we work really good together and i really enjoy spending time with them #but that morning on the way to work it wasn't like it was a question that popped into my head or 'should i break up with them' it was more #just an objective fact 'it's time to end things. it's over' and it's like something shifted. a switch flipped or something and i can't go #i can't go back. i still love them but i can't enjoy it anymore #i went over to their place night and went to dinner with them and their friends and hung out watching tv #like we have so many other nights #but it felt completely different. it felt wrong. i didn't belong anymore #it all just made me sad #i went hoping that spending time with them would bring it back. would make things normal again #but i just can't get it back. whatever the fuck 'it' is #but they're still so happy and in love and they were being so fucking sweet today trying to comfort me because they knew something was off #and it breaks my heart knowing that i'm about to hurt them #because i don't want to leave them but i feel like i'm being deceitful and fake because #i love them but i can no longer love them how they want me to. how i want to #but god i really really don't want to hurt them #i think i'm having or about to have a panic attack because of how stressed i am at the idea of hurting them #especially because it's already a tough time of year for them and work has been stressful nd i dont want to add to it but i cant lie to them #i can't really think about how much i don't want to do this or how much i'm going to miss them because i'm at work and i can't cry in front #of customers but fuck fuck it hurts #it hurts me just thinking about how much hurt i'm going to put them through #how much i already am because i know i'm acting different #but i'm pretty sure they think i'm just going through a depressive episode or something #bc they haven't fucking done anything! how can i break up with someone who hasn't even done a god damn thing???#and i never really could see a distant future with them but it was so nice being with them #but it was so fucking nice to have somebody be as into me as i was them and to feel so reciprocated and on the same page as someone #why did that all of a sudden change. just completely out of the blue. completely unprompted #i don't know what to do.. and i'm out of tags. that's never happened before #madi says shit

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weaselle · 3 months

Text

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

#long post #sorry #i just have a lot of DO PEOPLE UNDERSTAND feelings left over from all my years in restaurants #restaurants #line cook #service industry

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