Thinking Again About Neighbor!Price And His Sweet Little Bird Down The Street…(kind Of A Pt 2 To This)

Cᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ Jᴏʜɴ Pʀɪᴄᴇ ɪɴ Cᴀʟʟ ᴏғ Dᴜᴛʏ: Mᴏᴅᴇʀɴ Wᴀʀғᴀʀᴇ II [2022]

The Arrangement

Summary:  John proposes a friends with benefits arrangement. But he's making it so very difficult to stick to the terms.

Warnings: Slight reference to Reader being harassed, making out, implied cunningulus and fingering, actual cunningulus, p in v sex, lotus position, hand job. Initial miscommunication of expectations about what John wants now and what Reader thinks John wanted last night. A flirty, teasing, knows-what-he-wants-and-its-you John appears.

Author’s note: This has interspersed flashbacks to the night before– those are expressed as paragraphs of italicized text. Hopefully that makes it easier to follow.

Word count: <4K | Rating: 18+ MDNI. NSFW. It’s smut, people. | Credits: Left photo, unsplash. Remaining photos, pinterest. Banners and dividers made in Canva.

John Price masterlist | Main Masterlist

No matter where you were stationed or deployed, the one habit you followed religiously was to wake up and have a cup of coffee. It was a grounding ritual for you–a small pocket of time that was yours and yours alone, before the demands and obligations of your life imposed themselves on your day.

Today was no exception. You lean against the kitchen sink, staring out the window of your flat, listening to the coffee maker bubble and brew. It was still pitch dark (the kitchen clock read 5:06am), and all you could see was your reflection staring back at you. Of a woman in her mid-30s. Tired, body well-used and aching, her world shifted on its axis. 

John Price was a long-time colleague and friend. Last night, that status changed to long-time colleague and friend with benefits. Well…that’s what he had proposed, and that’s what you agreed to. 

Except…after the night you just had, you weren’t sure how you were going to keep things casual.

“John, thank you for the walk back. I’m sorry you had to witness that debacle at the pub.”

You glance sideways at him. Wearing his usual watch cap, wool overcoat, jeans and winter boots, he blended right into his surroundings–a cold January night, snow silently falling in big fat flakes, covering everything in sight. 

The streets were quiet–not a single car on the road or people out and about. The only sounds the two of you could hear were from the crunching noises of your boots as you trudged down the street together in the snow. 

He rubs his bare hands together briefly, blowing into them with his mouth before shoving them back into his pockets before he speaks.

“Love, that random drunk was out of line and everyone knew it with the way he was harassing you. You were magnificent, verbally handing his balls to him. Well done. I’d have wrecked him and given him a toss through a window, yeah? But everyone just joined in and took the piss out of him instead.” 

You snort, a small puff of warm air escaping into the frigid night. “Well, I’m glad you let me handle that.”

“I knew you could.” He pauses, then adds, “I have no doubts you could’ve wrecked him and tossed him through the window yourself.”

You chuff out a laugh, imagining that ridiculous visual.

Stopping at the front doors of your apartment building, you turn to look back at him. “Come in for a drink? Least I can offer you for your troubles walking me back.” 

He removes his watch cap, slapping it against his leg and stomping his feet briefly to shake the snow off of himself. You tiptoe up to brush the remaining snow off his shoulders before doing the same yourself.

“Well?” you ask him, bouncing on the balls of your feet, trying to keep warm.

“I’m afraid if I say no to you now, there’s no telling what you’d do to me, in the mood you’re in. Lead the way,” he chuckles, following you inside the building foyer.

“Can’t sleep?”

You turn around, seeing John clad only in his boxer briefs, leaning against the kitchen doorway. His eyes sweep over you in your thigh-length silk robe, watching you intently. Gods, he was ruggedly handsome, especially with that knowing smile tilting the corner of his mouth. 

Your eyes travel from his feet, darting upwards over his tall, broad, muscular form. Over his thick thighs. His large, capable hands and brawny forearms folded across his hairy chest. All the way to his roguish, bearded face and mussed, dark brown hair. His ocean blue eyes meet yours, watching you intently.

You let out a small, shaky breath as your body reacts to the totality of him standing before you. More, your mind traitorously whispers. You firmly shut that thought down until he takes a step towards you. 

“How are you doing, love?”

The two of you were sitting on your loveseat. Drinks long done and the conversation finally winding down. This would be when he would say it’s getting late, and then you’d hug him and see him off. But this time he’s made himself more comfortable on your loveseat–legs spread, his knee lightly brushing against yours. 

His mood seems reflective tonight, and you don’t miss the lingering looks he’s been giving you. He reaches out to trace your kneecap lightly with his fingers, as if to assess your reaction. His fingers lazily trace a random swirl pattern, causing small shivers to course up your thigh. 

John was always a tactile person, clapping his hand on your shoulder, patting your knee, hand on the small of your back when steering you through a crowded room. It was something over the years that you’d gotten used to, and you always thought he was being gentlemanly. 

But this…this felt a little different.

“This is the first time in a very long time we’re both not seeing anyone.” It’s a statement rather than a question. 

“Yes?” you reply questioningly, curious at the shift in the conversation.

“I’d like to propose something to you, and all I’d like to ask is for you to hear me out.”

You laugh. “You’re being very cryptic. That’s not like you. But…you’ve got my attention now.”

He tilts his head to the side, a small smile ghosting his lips.

“We’ve known each other for several years now? I’d like to think we’re good friends and work colleagues, wouldn’t you say?”

“We are…” you say slowly, searching his expression for any sign of where he was going with this conversation.

“We’re in a very unpredictable, stressful line of work. We have our own language and ways of working that few people understand.”

“Mm hmm…go on,” you wave at him to continue, genuinely intrigued. 

“But we’re human beings too. It’s difficult to meet people who can put up with what we do. Being in a committed relationship takes a lot of time and effort that we both don’t have the headspace for. Doesn’t it get lonely sometimes? We crave intimacy. We have wants, desires, physical needs that aren’t getting met.”

Your mind rapidly sifts through all the scenarios of where John’s train of thought is going, and you can’t help but blurt out the one improbable possibility that remains. “A friends with benefits arrangement? Is that what you’re proposing?”

You lean back up against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. “I-I…don’t think I’ve used some muscles in a long time John…they’re screaming at me now,” you admit, trying to deflect with some dry humor, trying to give him some version of a truthful answer.

He tsks playfully at you. “You’re not really answering my question.” Now he’s drifted closer to stand in your personal space, scant inches away from you. 

Your eyes lift again to meet his, wary. Afraid of stammering out that you’re in way over your head. Messing things up mere hours after you agreed to this arrangement that he proposed.

He lifts a finger to trace up along your jaw, then further back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You’re trying to mentally retreat to being at arm’s length again, but you both know it’s way too late for that. 

Dropping your eyes back down to his chest, you gasp, surprised. Faint bite and scratch marks dot across his chest and shoulders. Embarrassment heats your face as you recall everything the two of you did last night. “Oh sweetheart, if you could only see your face right now,” he says, his raspy voice deepening. “Are you sure you want to stay as just friends with benefits, love?”

“Exactly. Friends with benefits. And we’d keep it casual.”

You instantly call him out. “John. You don’t do casual. Casual and John Price is an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp. You commit 110% in everything you do.”

He cocks his head, grinning at your rebuttal. You’re completely right about him. You’ve seen how intense he is on missions, how dedicated he is to his team. Hell, even how competitive he is at pub trivia nights (which was the actual reason he was out with you tonight–he was your ringer on all things military history).

“I could say the same about you, love. All the more reason to give us a chance? Look, I’m not asking for an answer from you right now, but maybe give it some thought, yeah? I’ll respect your decision either way. We’re adults here.”

“John, I–this…this is a lot to process.”

He nods and lets out a long sigh, drawing his fingers away from your knee. “I completely understand. And…it’s late and I think it’s my cue to go. But…before I do, how about a goodnight kiss?”

You cross your arms, looking at him skeptically.

“I just need something to keep me warm enough for the walk back home. It’s cold out, you know,” he says, straight-faced.

Your mouth twitches, as several comebacks form on the tip of your tongue, but you choose to go with the first one that came immediately to mind.

“Johnny’s been rubbing off on you. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so dramatic. Fine.” 

You lean forward, and before you realize it, he’s pulled you effortlessly on top of him. Straddled on his lap, hands resting lightly on your hips. Giving you the option to get off of him if you wanted to.

“Go on then, give me that kiss,” he softly dares you, an amused look on his face. Seeing your eyes target his cheek, he clarifies. “On the lips.” 

You stare at each other silently for a few more seconds–a charged test of wills over this one small, trivial thing. 

“Incorrigible,” you finally huff, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. Gods, he smelled good, a mixture of whiskey and cigar smoke. 

You gulp, suddenly hesitant, as your eyes meet his.

“It’s just me,” he whispers conspiratorially, one corner of his mouth lifting, eyes crinkling. “It’s just one wee kiss. What possible harm could there be in that?”

You lick your lips and lean forward.

“Yes. Friends with benefits. That was what we agreed on,” you say slowly, faintly, kicking yourself almost instantly as soon as the words come out of your mouth. 

He’s practically giving you an opening, girl! Why didn’t you just take it? your inner voice shrieks.

“You know, I’ve always wondered how it would be between us. Would it be tender, hot, sensual? Filthy and feral? And to know now that it’s all of that, and so much more? Now I’m not so sure about what we agreed to. Maybe you were right. Maybe I can’t do just casual after all,” he rumbles. 

You exhale, closing your eyes briefly. Was he saying this was a mistake? Was this the part where things would get weird and awkward?

“So…what is it then you want?” you mutter in exasperation, slowly scrubbing your face with your hand.

Gently claiming that same hand, he turns the inside of your wrist towards him, planting several reassuring kisses against it, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you, love. Never, ever doubt that. But after last night, you’re giving me hope there could be more with us. Like maybe we could be exclusive. That maybe we could…have this every day and night we’re together? What would you say to that?” 

Now he’s right up against you, his hands on either side of your hips, gripping the kitchen counter, his growing erection pressing against your stomach. Bright blue eyes filled with wicked promise stare at you. Watching for your telltale reactions, the same ones he learned intimately last night.

A small involuntary shiver runs through you as you allow yourself to think that there could be something more between the two of you. But was he just teasing, or was he being genuine?

“Why are you trembling? Have I not satisfied you enough? D’you want another go?” 

Despite yourself, you laugh at his attempts to fluster you. A small, breathy moan escapes your lips as he leans down to kiss the side of your neck. 

“I knew it,” you say, eyes fluttering shut as he switches over to kiss the other side of your neck. “This was a straight up seduction. You planned this all along. This was never going to be a friends with benefits thing.”

The kiss started innocently enough, until one of his hands drifted up your back, caressing the nape of your neck. Trailing up gently, his hand tangles in your hair to cup the back of your head. His other arm curls around your lower back to bring your core flush against the growing bulge in his pants. The room was silent save for your soft pants and his low rumbles of encouragement as one kiss turned into several.

“Want more?” he murmurs against your lips, the hand around your back snaking down and around to grab one of your thighs, wrapping it around his waist, bringing you even closer to him.

You nod, followed by a soft whispered yes as you buck your hips against him, trying to ease the ache forming between your legs, only to realize it was making the ache worse.

His hand flexes in your hair, tugging slightly, making you arch your back slightly.

“John?” you gasp as pleasure prickles along your scalp and down your body.

“Yes, love?”

“Friends with benefits? D-do you really mean it?”

John leans back to look at you and shakes his head in disbelief. “How can we just keep it casual when you’ve been asking, pleading, begging me for more all last night? Who’s doing the seducing? Not me. You are. But how can I say no to a smart, tough, beautiful woman like you in need? Turns out, I’m a weak-willed man for you.” 

You scoff faintly at his last statement, but he continues.

“You want to know what my favorite four letter word is now? S’not fuck or cock, or cunt. It’s more. Especially when you whimper it. Cry out saying it with my name. But it’s alright love,” he smirks, kissing down to your exposed collarbones. “You can be greedy. I’m in a giving mood this morning.”

His hands caress your hips, massaging in slow circles over your robe. Drifting upwards, he palms your breasts through the silk fabric, gently tweaking your nipples, rumbling in approval at your hitching breaths. 

“Sweet girl, you sound so pretty when you come,” he utters softly, wet fingers rubbing against your throbbing clit one last time, mouth and beard still shiny with your slick. “Seems like your body was craving something it needed, coming so quickly on my mouth and fingers. Had no idea you tasted so…addictive. Can’t get enough of this.” 

On your back now, catching your breath, you look up at him. Jeans and panties wrenched down to your ankles, caged in between his arms and legs on the loveseat. You watch him lick and suck each of his fingers slowly, humming with satisfaction. You close your eyes briefly, trying to gather your thoughts as you feel your pussy pulse in reaction at his lewd display.

“John?”

“Yes, love?” He groans at the way your eyes open again to meet and hold his gaze. Tentative, yet hungry at the same time. A part of him is ecstatic that he’s finally getting to see this side of you.

Grasping one of his wrists, you ask him hesitantly, “Can we go to the bedroom now?”

He sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting one of your legs to drape over one of his broad shoulders. Rucking up the hem of your robe, he lets out an indistinct sound of approval, seeing that you’re completely bare underneath and dripping wet between your legs. He parts your robe, eyes feasting in appreciation over every exposed curve, slope and stretch mark he sees before he lowers his head again.

He speaks, interspersing kisses up along your inner thigh slowly, his soft beard lightly tickling and abrading your skin.

“You don’t have to say it.” Kiss. “But I know what you want.” Kiss. “Your eyes, your body are telling me everything I need to know about how you feel about me.” Kiss.

You steady your hands on the counter, your standing leg shaking slightly before feeling the heat of his mouth and tongue fasten over your aching clit.

“Such a good girl, riding me like this.”

On your bed, the two of you were entwined in a lotus position, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms wrapped up and around his shoulders as you rocked your hips. You were keening softly as you rode his hard, thick cock. Nipples sensitive from rubbing against his chest hair. Losing your mind at all the filthy and depraved images he was evoking and promising with his rough, gravelly voice.

“John, s’good,” you slur in his ear, the pleasure stealing your ability to form words. “Feels s’good.” You didn’t know it could be like this with him, and now that you had a taste of it, you couldn’t get enough. 

“Always knew it would be…you just needed convincing. Timing was never right. Was trying to be a gentleman,” he rasps, feeling you clench hard around him. “Now you have me. Anytime, anywhere, however you want. I’m all yours.”

A small little alarm in the back of your mind trips at his words. He can’t be saying what you think he is saying…friends don’t just say those things like that…do they?

You cry out as he angles his hips slightly to hit that spot deep inside you. You rake your nails down his back. He grunts slightly at the pain, but he ignores it, focused solely on making you come apart in his arms.

Your thoughts scatter to all but one which you give voice to as you bounce harder on his cock, craving the friction, the feeling of fullness, chasing the orgasm just building, just barely within your reach. 

“More, John. Need more. Please.”

He instantly complies, gripping your hips, thrusting up into you harder.

“Fuuuuck. That’s my girl. Using your words. Coming with you now. Come now, with me.”

Arching your back, white-hot pleasure forms in your gut, expanding and streaking through your body as you shake and whine brokenly, coming harder than you ever had before in your life. Seconds later, you find yourself almost crushed in his arms as he lets loose a feral sound, bucking upwards, feeling him spurt hotly inside you.

“And w-what is it that I’m t-telling you that my words c-can’t?” you stutter, your hands tangled in his hair, biting your lip as his tongue joins the fray against your sensitive clit.

“‘M busy right now, sweetheart, trying to make you come again.” Your thighs partially muffle his words, but his fingers keep busy teasing your folds, his mouth and tongue working their magic against your clit.

You let out a small exasperated laugh-moan. “In-infuriating man…t-trying to get me addicted to your t-touch. That was the p-plan all along, wasn’t it?” you whimper, toes curling, head tilted back. “W-with hot, mind-melting s-sex?”

“Hmm…is it working?” He turns his head, sighing against your inner thigh, kissing and nipping it. You can feel his smile against your skin.

“An-answer my q-question, John.”

You swallow your disappointment as he backs off. He stands up to take a half step back, but is still close enough to close your robe back into place and gather you into his arms.

He whispers your name. “I need to ‘fess up. I genuinely went in proposing this friends with benefits thing, thinking that was what we could have, and it would be enough. Except, once we kissed, I knew that what we agreed to wasn’t going to happen. Especially not after the way we spent the night together. But you were being so serious and earnest about sticking to what we agreed to.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. “I thought that was what you wanted! I didn’t want to mess up our friendship because I was feeling things. Big things, and it wasn’t the same for you,” you quietly trail off.

He cups the side of your face with the palm of his hand.

“Oh sweetheart, it is definitely not one-sided. It’s 100% mutual. I was giving you all those outs so you could change your mind.” He huffs out a small laugh. “And yes, I might’ve been a little underhanded in trying to…persuade you to see it my way first with sex.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were teasing me, or playing some kind of warped game about calling the whole friends with benefits thing off.”

“I’m sorry, love, that wasn’t my intention. You know me. I’m as direct as they come. But I should’ve come clean sooner, to just admit that I can’t even follow the terms that I proposed and not have you doubt yourself. And that this, this is something real and worth having.”

You close the gap to hug him, arms stroking up and down his back.

“I’m blaming the dopamine. Or the serotonin. Or some other unspoken chemistry we’ve had for a long time and we didn’t realize it until last night. I don’t know,” you say half to yourself, half into his chest before you speak up again, looking into his vivid blue eyes. “So what are we to each other, then?”

“Simple. I’m yours, and you’re mine now. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can live with that,” you grin.

“Good.”

The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a few more moments, listening to the sound of the coffee maker finish its brewing before it beeped twice in finality.

“You going to have your coffee?” he asks, tilting his chin towards the appliance.

You shake your head slowly, new possibilities unfurling in your mind with this man standing in front of you. “Coffee can wait. I think…I might want something else first thing this morning,” you smirk at him.

Your hands trail down his back slowly, then around his waist to his front, fingers tangling in the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Snapping the elastic band playfully, you dip one hand below.

You gently grasp his erection, stroking him up and down languidly. Tiptoeing up to kiss the side of his bearded jaw, you murmur, “You don’t have any plans for today, do you? It’s the weekend.”

“No, I don’t, I–fuck...” He chokes on his next words as you stroke him a little more firmly, teasing and circling the tip gently with the pad of your thumb.

“Excellent.” A pause. “So, back to what you said earlier. You said you were a weak-willed man for me?” you purr, emboldened by his responses.

You watch his eyes crinkle in amusement, then shift to surprise as you roughly drag his boxer briefs down to the floor with your free hand.

“And that I’ve been the one doing the seducing?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says solemnly, mouth twitching ever so slightly.

You let out a low, throaty laugh, the sound making his cock twitch in your hold. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” you purr, nipping at his collarbone. “You kept calling me your good girl last night. I loved that. I wonder…are you partial to being called a good boy from time to time? What would you say to that?”

You stroke him exactly the way he showed you last night, making him almost cross his eyes now like he did then. 

“Fuck. Right there, love. I…ah…I could be persuaded.” He lets out a low, sandpaper-rough noise of need. “I have to say, I am really liking how forward…” he shudders, “you’re being right now.”

You give him a hungry smile as you open your robe, sending it slithering to the floor. “I’m just taking a page out of your playbook, John. Now, let’s go back to bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

John Price masterlist | Main Masterlist

Barry Sloane as Zachary Heflin | Longmire s6ep9

need him to look at me like this so bad

i cannot get over how low his jeans are here

cw: john price x f!reader - older man/younger girl; smut; smidge daddy kink; meet cute or smthn

thinking about being moderately creeped out when the waiter came your way and told you that your tab has actually been settled by that gentleman over there.

and you’re quite hesitant to look around and acknowledge the gentleman’s presence but your friends are whooping, making kissy faces and being so embarrassingly obvious at their own checking-out that you bit the bullet and turned around, dutifully ignoring the lump lodged in your throat—

oh.

well, that’s one good looking man, sure. kind of young for your taste though, if you’re being honest but if he’s treating you and your friends, then you guess that’s—

the man beside him turns, meets your gaze, and shoots you a sultry wink.

his scruff and his hair is a mess of salt and pepper, and he’s got crinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and he’s got tan skin like he just spent a summer in greece while you were honest to god killing yourself for your capstone as your graduation is coming close, and—

“yeah,” your friend laughs, all sleazy. “he’s your type, ain’t he? a fucking dilf.”

oh.

so that younger one is—

god, he’s almost twice your age then if that kid’s his son. what the fuck that’s—

“please shoot your shot before we lose this group-sugar daddy,” another one of your friends chirps and that forces an ugly snort your way but mr. dilf doesn’t even look turned off by the way his smile just grew and- oh god, he’s standing up and he’s moving close and—

“hey, sweetheart,” he says and honestly the british accent is just uncalled for.

“hi,” you reply after being jabbed on your side.

his scruff dances as his humour bloats. he nods his head to the group and turns back at you.

fuck, yeah okay so— “thanks for that, by the way. you didn’t have to.”

he shrugs. “i wanted to. ‘sides, all that money ought to be spent on a pretty thing, don’t you think?”

pretty thing — does he mean you?

that…

that honestly does it for you.

your cheeks tingle with warmth as shyness creeps in. you feel yourself slowly clamming up, still so painfully unused to being the point of attraction. no one has ever liked you above your friends, but there he is, so suave and beautiful in his tan and charming in an honestly concerning way as he pours all his attention to you. not them but you.

“do you want to, uh, go somewhere? show me around or something?”

he huffs a fond laugh and offers his hand — big and callused, with a scar drawn across his whole palm — and says, “thought you’ll never ask.”

he pulls you up. “name’s john.” he tips his head back to his table, one that’s now bar of the other patron. “that was my son, lucas.”

you didn’t even notice that john’s hand has left your own until you felt it on the small of your back.

“and what about you?”

“huh?” you ask, trying to focus on not tripping on your feet.

“what shall i call you, sweetheart?”

“oh,” you say, blinking, before muttering your name.

john hums something deep in the base of his throat.

“beautiful.”

and, somehow, you know that he doesn’t just mean your name but he means you.

.

(it ends with you on his hotel bed, speared open by his cock. you’ve never been this wet before, walls all loose and squelching as he fucks it even deeper, punching the head into the pucker of your cervix.

john is all quiet grunts, animalistic as he devours you.

jesus, this man couldn’t truly be almost twice your age — how the fuck is he moving this way?

he fills you up to the point of tears, and fills you up even more, pushing and pressing in until he’s all snug in you, his pelvis flushed to yours. you feel so full. so stuffed that you couldn’t even moan right, raspy breaths all that could puff out of you.

“s’good!” you hiccup, sobbing, twitching at the drag of his cock as john pulls out only to choke on your own voice when he fucks in.

“jo-hnnn, s’good! s’good!”

“yeah?” he grunts, scruff tickling the shell of your ear. “y’feel so good ‘round me, darling. tight like a vice. christ, has no one ever fucked you open? stretched you out good?”

you shake your head, whining because no. no one’s fucked you this way. no one’s filled you this way. and if they did, everything’s been overwritten by john.

and his thick fingers and wide palms and his fat cock, fucking in, in, in.

“oh, darlin’,” he croons, his skin slapping against your own. “don’t worry, then, love. daddy’s going t’fix you up, ‘kay? daddy’s going t’make you feel so good, i promise.”

daddy—

fuck.

fuck.)

john price and shy reader 🙂‍↕️😵‍💫🥹

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 14/??

More Than Temporary

Valentine’s Day Special

pairing: John Price x Shy!Introvert!Reader

synopsis: You never expected John Price to be anything more than a fleeting moment in your life—something warm but temporary, a quiet dream you’d wake from eventually. But when he overhears your fears of being nothing more than a passing phase, he decides to prove you wrong—starting with Valentine’s Day.

warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, insecurity, self-doubt, Price being the most patient and loving man alive, lots of soft domestic moments, implied intimacy, Valentine’s Day romance

word count: 1943

a/n: This one’s for all my fellow overthinkers, especially when it comes to love. Happy Valentine’s Day!

You’d always been the kind of person who preferred the background.

Quiet corners, neatly organized files, the soft hum of printers, the faint shuffle of papers—that was your comfort zone. Military administration suited you well. You blended seamlessly into the routine: processing reports, organizing schedules, ensuring the logistics of war ran smoothly from behind a desk. People came and went, their names etched into documents you processed, their faces blurring together over time.

Except for him.

Captain John Price wasn’t just another name on a file. He was larger than life—commanding, confident, with that deep voice and sharp eyes that seemed to see right through people. The first time you met him, you’d barely managed to string together a coherent sentence, your voice soft and tentative as you handed him a report.

And he’d smiled.

Not just polite or dismissive, but warm. Like you were the only person in the room.

It didn’t take long after that. Glances turned into small conversations, small conversations turned into lingering moments, and those moments eventually unraveled into stolen nights tangled in sheets, his touch burning into your skin like you were something precious.

But you knew better.

Someone like him—charming, confident, respected—didn’t settle for someone like you. This was temporary. A distraction. A phase he’d forget once something—or someone—better came along.

You’d accepted it.

Until he overheard you.

It was a few days before Valentine’s Day when you found yourself tucked away in a quiet corner of the base’s small café, a steaming cup of tea cradled between your hands. The soft hum of conversation and the faint clatter of dishes filled the background, but your mind was far too occupied.

Your friend, Mia, sat across from you, stirring her coffee absentmindedly as she studied your face. You’d been fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater, avoiding her gaze, clearly lost in thought.

Mia finally broke the silence, her brow arched with curiosity. “Alright, spill. You’ve been weird all week. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the mug. “It’s nothing.”

She snorted. “Yeah, because ‘nothing’ always makes people look like they’ve been overthinking their entire existence. Come on, talk to me.”

You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot before leaning in slightly. “It’s… Price.”

Mia’s eyes lit up with interest. “Captain Price? The Captain Price you’ve been hooking up with for, what, two months now?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to shush her, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Keep it down!”

She grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Sorry, sorry. So… what about him?”

You fiddled with the rim of your cup, trying to find the right words. “I just… I don’t know what this is. Between us.”

Mia tilted her head. “What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious? You’ve been spending time together, he’s always looking at you like you hung the damn moon—”

“That’s just it,” you interrupted, frustration creeping into your voice. “I don’t think this is… anything. Not really. I mean, look at him. He’s—he’s John Price. He’s confident, respected, he could have anyone he wants. And then there’s me. I’m just—” you waved your hand vaguely, “—me.”

Mia frowned, leaning forward. “You’re not ‘just’ anything. Why would you think that?”

You swallowed hard, staring into your tea as if it held the answers. “Because I’m temporary. This… whatever we’re doing, it’s just a phase for him. Maybe it’s convenient, maybe it’s casual, but it’s not… permanent. He’s probably going to get bored eventually, and I’ll just—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I’ll get hurt if I let myself believe it’s more than it is.”

Mia was quiet for a moment, her expression softening. Then she reached across the table, placing her hand gently over yours.

“Have you ever thought that maybe you’re wrong?”

You blinked at her, caught off guard.

She continued, her voice gentle but firm. “You see yourself one way, but that doesn’t mean that’s how he sees you. Just because you think you’re temporary doesn’t mean he does. Have you ever asked him how he feels?”

Your stomach twisted. “No. I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.”

Mia squeezed your hand. “You’re not a burden, you know. Maybe you should give him the chance to prove that.”

You nodded slowly, her words lingering in your mind long after the conversation ended.

What you didn’t know was that John had been standing just a few feet away, waiting for his coffee.

And he’d heard everything.

And that’s when he decided—Valentine’s Day wouldn’t just be another day.

It would be the day he proved you were wrong.

You woke up to warmth.

Not just from the soft morning sunlight spilling through the blinds, but from the solid, comforting presence of John Price wrapped around you. His arm was slung over your waist, his face nestled against the crook of your neck, his beard scratching gently at your skin.

You blinked, heart racing.

He was still here.

You shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him. But his grip tightened, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” His voice was thick with sleep, low and gravelly against your ear.

"I was gonna make coffee," you stammered softly.

"Coffee can wait," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Stay.”

So you stayed. Wrapped up in him, his fingertips tracing slow, idle circles on your skin, his breath warm against your neck. Time lost all meaning in the cocoon of his embrace.

Eventually, he did get up—to make breakfast.

You tried to protest, but he just kissed your forehead and said, “Let me take care of you today.”

The kitchen smelled of coffee and something buttery with a faint hint of burning. You padded in quietly, drawn by the soft clatter of dishes and John’s voice humming under his breath.

He stood at the stove, wearing nothing but sweatpants, the muscles in his back flexing as he flipped pancakes. A dishtowel hung over his shoulder, and he was concentrating so hard on not burning them that he didn’t notice you watching.

You leaned against the doorway, hiding a smile.

"Y’know," he said without turning around, "staring’s rude."

Your face flushed. "I wasn’t staring."

"Oh, sure you weren’t," he teased, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. "C’mere.."

You crossed the room, and he reached out, tugging you gently by the waist until you were tucked against his side. He pressed a kiss to your temple before turning back to the pan, flipping the pancake with a little more flair this time.

“They’re a bit burnt,” he admitted sheepishly, plating them anyway.

"They’re perfect," you replied softly.

And they were.

After breakfast, he laced his fingers through yours, tugging you toward the door.

“C’mon, love. Let’s get some fresh air.”

The streets were dusted with remnants of snow, the cold biting just enough to make you tuck yourself a little closer to him. Not that he seemed to mind. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand as if he couldn’t help it, small circles of warmth seeping into your skin with every step.

The town was buzzing with Valentine’s Day energy—shop windows decorated with red ribbons, heart-shaped balloons, and couples wandering hand-in-hand. Normally, this much attention to romance might’ve made you feel awkward, but with John beside you, it felt… natural.

Further down the street, you stumbled upon a small bookshop with faded letters painted on the glass. Without thinking, you slowed your steps, eyeing the display of well-loved novels and dusty hardcovers stacked in the window.

“You wanna go in?” Price asked, already steering you gently toward the door.

Inside, the scent of old paper and worn leather filled the air, and you found yourself relaxing into the quiet comfort of the space. Price trailed behind you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you browsed through the shelves.

You picked up a book—a battered copy of a romance with a cracked spine—and flipped through the pages.

Price leaned over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “That one any good?”

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. "I… I’ve read it before."

"Then let’s get it," he said easily, plucking the book from your hands and heading to the register before you could protest.

After the bookstore, you found yourselves wandering into a quiet park. The pathways were lined with bare trees, their branches reaching like fingers toward the pale winter sky.

Price guided you toward an empty bench overlooking a small frozen pond, dusted with a thin layer of snow. You sat, the cold of the wooden seat seeping through your coat, but the warmth of his arm draping around your shoulders made it bearable.

He pulled you closer without a word, your head naturally finding its place against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear was grounding, soothing.

For a while, you sat in silence, watching a few kids in the distance throwing snowballs, their laughter echoing faintly.

Price shifted slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. "Y’know, I never really cared much for Valentine’s Day."

You glanced up at him, curious. "No?"

He shook his head, his thumb grazing your shoulder. "Felt like a load of commercial nonsense. But today…" His gaze softened, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. "Feels different."

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest despite the winter chill.

"Because of me?" you whispered, half teasing, half terrified of the answer.

His response was immediate. “Because of you.”

You tucked your face into his chest, hiding the smile that you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to.

By the time you got home, the anxiety had faded—replaced with something warm but terrifying.

Because he still hadn’t left.

You curled up together on the couch for a while, his fingers threading lazily through your hair, his thumb tracing circles against your skin. The day slipped into evening, the sky painted in soft shades of pink and orange.

That’s when he disappeared into the kitchen again.

You peeked in after a while, finding him standing at the stove, humming softly under his breath as he stirred a pot of sauce. The table was set—candles, wine glasses, even a small bouquet of flowers.

When did he…?

You swallowed thickly. “John…”

He turned, wiping his hands on a towel. “Sit down, love.”

After dinner, he pulled out a small box.

You blinked. “What’s that?”

"A gift." He set it in front of you, his fingers lingering on yours.

You hesitated, then opened it.

Inside was a delicate necklace—a simple chain with a small pendant shaped like a compass.

“I figured,” he said quietly, “it’d remind you where you belong.”

Your throat tightened. "John, I—"

He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I heard what you said,” he murmured. "About being temporary. About me not settling for someone like you."

Your face flushed, embarrassment flooding your chest.

“But here’s the thing,” he continued softly, leaning closer. “I don’t want temporary. Not with you. I don’t care how shy you are, or how much you try to fade into the background. Because every time I walk into a room, you’re all I see."

Your breath hitched.

"So," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, "let me be your man. Not for now. For as long as you’ll have me."

Your heart ached with the weight of it.

So you answered the only way you knew how.

You kissed him—soft, deep, sure.

Because John Price didn’t settle.

He chose.

And he chose you.

for your plane reqs….id just love the dirtiest age gap/daddy kink shit. just like old man bf john or soap

oh anon you have come to the right gal. cw infidelity

i wrote about something similar on this post, but i deeply believe in a handyman retired price reality. his wooly hands are built for termite wood and rust, so when he holds a soft thing like you, the callouses catch on your dress before he takes it off.

specifically and technically, you’re off limits. sweet newlywed he’s working for, with an ungrateful husband who’s already forgotten the luck of his marriage after the first down payment on the house.

that’s okay though, old man john knows how to treat a woman. his wisdom corners you in the kitchen over tea, where you entertain conversation with him because he’s working on your kitchen. and then he makes you laugh. really laugh, the ugly kind that tickles your insides and heats your neck.

his crows feet and smile creases make you flush, and when you hold your husbands face you start looking for that same sign of aged petrichor and expensive wine in him.

never comes.

you blink, and suddenly John’s got his big, working hand clamped over your mouth in the coat closet, fucking you from behind as you grip the sides of the door. he grunts, whispering as he ruins your soaked cunt,

“knew a pretty doll like you needed a real man in your womb, hm? the daft boy,” he groans when you cum for a third time, cunt squeezing his cock, “was a couple years too young. this is what a decade gets you, darlin.”

comes deep inside you, and the dirtier part of you hope it takes.