Simon who gets tired of his comrades constantly yapping about women and asking questions about his personal life, so he lies he has a girlfriend and refuses any details - no matter how much they bother him.
Little does everyone know you are genuine. The difference is that you are not Simon's girlfriend and don't even know he exists.
He met you at the supermarket, found out where you lived, and stalked you ever since - simple as that.
Simon saw no harm in his actions since he followed you around simply because you were pretty. Plus, he was keeping you safe, so when you think about it, he was your unpaid, secret, would get hunted for sport by Price if found out, bodyguard.
And maybe, maybe, on occasions, he would drive potential unreliable suitors away from you. Don't ask how.
But even the great Simon Riley could resist you for so long. As his guilt was keeping him away from introducing himself to you, he decided to create the fantasy of his perfect little girlfriend - for the team.
Simon made up stories of how you two met, gave details - the works. And it truly satisfied him.
Until, one member, Gaz - found the whole thing sketchy. There was no way, his lieutenant found such a cute bird - all by himself. Something was wrong and the sergeant would get to the bottom of that.
Three weeks later he finally found you, messaged you - asking you if you were real and inviting you to base to surprise your "boyfriend".
You kept the convo short, accepting the invitation and triple-checking if the military base was a real place, not some trap.
Imagine the horror and shock on Simon's face when he finds you, waiting for him with the rest of his team, laughing sweetly at their jokes and getting up to put a small kiss on the lieutenant's lips while he stays there - frozen in embarrassment and fear.
“Hey bonnie, you busy? I have a ton of paperwork to do but i was planning on- whats that?” Soap stops his rambling questions upon seeing me with an open flame.
I look down at the candle on the cupcake, it was halfway melted from when i had lit it. The wax was already mixing with the frosting.
“Yeah but its all good.” I say trying to sound light hearted.
I got up and pinched the flame out not bothering to make a wish.
“I can do the writing dont worry about it. Go have fun.” I say looking back to Soap in my doorway.
I walk over and softly grab the files in his hand, expecting him to hand them over easy and take his leave. Only he doesn’t, he doesn’t even move, he hadn’t looked away from the lone cupcake on the counter.
“Hey if im gonna do it i need the files.” I say trying to pull them out of his grasp without ripping them. Only then he looks down at me, i was surprised when i couldnt read his expression. The man was usually an open book, you could read him cover to cover without flipping the page.
“What is that.” It was more of a statement than a question, like he knew but couldn’t believe what it meant.
I look back to the treat i had bought myself, a little more than just confused now as i look back at him. “It’s a cupcake?” I say now skeptical. “Its not gonna bite you, relax.” I joke hoping he would snap out of it.
Soap stares at me still unreadable in the doorway, he takes the papers back and walked down the hall to presumably Prices room without another word. I close my door for the night, no need for anyone else to be upset with my presence today. It seemed no one was remotely happy with me all damn day and that for lack of better words was the cherry on top.
I hadnt expected anything to happen on my birthday, not really anyway. I hadnt brought up my birthday with the team and i had only joined the 141 less than 10 months ago. They hadnt asked and i never told so really it wouldve been my own fault if i had expected anything. But i had hoped for at least a happy birthday wish, as stupid as that sounds. I had thought for sure as the Captain, Price wouldve known my birthday and maybe he wouldve said something, anything. But wishful thinking can hurt worse than a bullet.
When i had emerged from my room this morning to find Gaz had started our usual run without me that had hurt a little, but no worries i can catch up or just run it alone. Only Gaz had stopped running after i started and had gone back to the barracks. I had shrugged it off then.
Later was Ghost, he quite literally ghosted me on training together, it was supposed to start at noon on the dot. Nothing, not a text, not a call, not even 4 hours later. It was when i was training recruits that i saw why, Ghost and Soap had been at the range all day. Shooting the new guns Soap and i had agreed to try out together.
So three of the four men i worked with day in and day out had done something completely out of character. Surely Price would break the cycle of today.
I decided to test it out, walking to his office across the base. I decide i need to start telling the guys more about myself, hell, did they know anything personal about me? They never really asked so i didnt worry about it. I knew so much about them, i could recall all of their favorite movies, food, drinks, guns, knife brands, i could even remember the family members theyve talked about and Soap had so many. But i cant remember telling them any of that about me. By the time i got to Prices office im so lost in thought i almost just walk on in. Luckily im pulled from my thoughts hearing Price on the phone, louder than normal.
“I dont care if the best is on my damn team i need to be able to trust every single person on it! Im not keeping someone if i cant trust them!” The other person talks calmer more trying to coax him to relax.
Price still raises his voice annoyed. “I don’ know shite about’em! Im done, im not having this conversation anymore.” Hanging up the phone he sighes loudly. I blink back tears in succession.
He didn’t trust me? I get not knowing much but i didn’t hide things from them, if they asked i wouldve told? I didn’t mean to make them not trust me, i just didn’t want to share if they didn’t want to know. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean for any of it. How did it get this bad? How did i miss the signs of them pulling away, i hadnt seen anything different up until today.
But now it made sense, Gaz wouldn’t want to run with someone he couldn’t trust, Ghost would never train someone he didn’t trust, and why would Soap test guns with me? It was so obvious now.
I wipe my tear streaked face and walk quickly back to our- their, barracks. I couldn’t call it ours anymore, i wasn’t part of the team. Id need to pack, id need to find a new team again. Only i didn’t want to and that just caused me to cry again. I loved the guys with everything now, it took me so long to let them in and just as long to get Ghost to trust me, i thought everything was okay. It was so perfectly fine just 12 hours ago.
I walk into my room shutting the door quietly, packing wouldn’t take long, i didn’t have much. I hadnt joined with more than a duffel bag to my name. I could still fit everything in that bag in the corner of the room. But when i opened the fridge is when I remembered the cupcake i had bought myself.
Now here i was packing after Soap had walked out, i didn’t relight the candle, i didn’t really have a wish that could come true. The only one i could think of is that today hadn’t happened at all. But it was bound to happen if Price was that upset on the phone. Better to jump ship than to be pushed. I finish up packing and look around, nothing of mine, nothing that could show i had even been there at all except a lone cupcake on the counter. And thats exactly how i had lived before the 141, why would now be any different. Price had said in the beginning that i could change the room however i wanted, glad i didn’t.
Walking out of the barren room i could hear voices down the hall, some louder than others, seemed like an argument. I turned and began the walk to the front base gate, no longer do i need to worry them with my presence. No longer did they need to worry about an untrusted stranger.
john price x reader, icky john, slight dd/lg, daddy kink, cum eating, established relationship, blowjob
wc… 375
(kinktober masterlist) (masterlist) (nav)
“oh for fucks sake!” you screamed out in anger smacking your hand on the table. john just gives you a stern look, eyebrows raising as he holds your hand.
“let go of me!” you pull your hand away, folding them in your lap. “fucking bitch” you whisper under your breath.
“i heard that. language.” who does he think he is?
clearly he had some authority over you in the relationship, based on how you were now crying around his dick.
“oh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you cry out, holding onto the sheets. you swear you hear john tut under his breath, but you couldn’t focus when his cock was so deep inside of you. “shit!” john’s hand reached on your throat, applying pressure to your neck.
“oh fuck you!”
“tha’s it.”
in less than a second, john’s cock is out of you, his hands picking you up off the bed. only to drop you onto your knees, that is.
without words, john pushes his cock down your throat. he grabs a handful of your hair, holding it into a loose ponytail out of your way.
he fucks your mouth, your muffled protests doing little to stop him as his length tickles the back of your throat.
“needa’ learn to watch your mouth, huh?” he coos condescendingly, watching as tears fill your eyes.
gagging sounds fill the room as you choke on his length. hands gripping his thighs as you take all of him, lips touching the base of his cock.
you don’t even remember why you were screaming at him earlier or why he carried you over his shoulder all the way to the bedroom.
“daddy’s gonna wash out your dirty mouth…” he grunts, hard thrusts ruining your throat. “swallow it all.” you feel a hot trail of semen paint your throat whilst john’s cock sat in your mouth, you tried your hardest to swallow it all.
this was your punishment; ‘washing your mouth out’, john said it was for when your mouth was dirty. you didn’t mind, your ‘punishment’ was all nine inches of john right down your throat. he pulls out of your mouth, lightly tapping his cock against your cheek as he murmured.
“let’s find better words darling, ‘specially when y’talkin’ t’me.”
Edit: had to fix the spacing it didn’t copy well from Google Docs
——————
Eyes fluttering open, the fog of sleep slowly lifted as thin red numbers glowed through the darkness of your bedroom. Rubbing at your eyes, you squinted toward the alarm clock across the room.
5:48 a.m.
Curled beneath your comforter, a smile tugged at your lips.
After one long stretch, you peeked over your shoulder to find your boyfriend still fast asleep. John’s broad chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm beneath the sheets. He looked so peaceful like this, especially after the night you’d had.
The two of you had gone out drinking with friends and stumbled back to your flat thoroughly intoxicated. Somewhere between getting home and passing out, an argument had broken out over the last peanut butter cookie you’d baked that morning.
Unfortunately for you, John had won.
The disagreement had escalated into a drunken wrestling match in the kitchen, ending with John shoving the entire cookie into his mouth while you tried to pry it from his hands.
You’d been so offended by his lack of generosity that you’d gone to bed with your back to him. John, naturally, found the whole thing hilarious. He’d spent the next ten minutes calling you petty, dramatic, and the prettiest brat he’d ever met.
In response, you’d informed him you would never bake for him again. He dramatically declared that you clearly didn’t love him.
Even now, the memory made you smile. John could be an ass when he was drunk, but you loved him anyway. Quietly slipping from bed, you headed for the shower.
When you emerged a short while later, freshly dressed in light blue jeans and a faded green flannel rolled to your elbows, you peeked back into the bedroom. A grin immediately spread across your face.
For once, you were awake before your military boyfriend. John usually rose with the sun whether he wanted to or not. Seeing him still asleep felt almost unnatural.
Which gave you an idea. A terrible idea.
But at the time, it felt brilliant.
The bedroom remained dim, pale morning light filtering through the open window and casting a soft grey glow across the floorboards. Careful to avoid the ones that creaked, you crept toward the bed.
This would be your revenge for the cookie.
John was sprawled on his back, head tilted slightly to one side and snoring without shame. His beard had grown thicker during leave, giving him the appearance of a lumberjack who’d somehow wandered into military service. His dark hair had grown long enough that he could finally push it back after a shower.
You loved the overgrown look. It somehow made him even more rugged.
Standing beside the bed, you made a decision you would almost immediately regret.
With a squeal, you launched yourself onto him.
The plan was simple: Straddle his waist, grab his scruffy cheeks, kiss him awake.
That was not what happened.
A startled shriek tore from your throat.
Something hard slammed into the side of your face and your world flipped.
One second you were laughing. The next, your face was crushed into the mattress, your arms pinned painfully behind your back. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. Everything had happened too quickly that fear flooded your chest.
“Let go! Let go! Let go!” You kicked and thrashed, your voice cracking. A crushing weight pinning you helplessly into the mattress.
The pressure disappeared instantly.
Heavy footsteps stumbled backward across the room. When you finally lifted your face from the olive green covers, you gasped for air and dramatically looked around. You found John crouched several feet away, looking absolutely horrified.
“Fuck.” The color had drained from his face.
“I didn’t mean to hit you.” His hands hovered helplessly near your face as though he wanted to check for injuries but wasn’t sure if touching you would make things worse.
“Ow.” It was the only word you could manage. Slowly pushing yourself upright, you leaned back on your heels.
Judging by the look on John’s face, whatever had happened wasn’t good. It certainly didn’t feel good. A deep throbbing radiated from just above your left eyebrow, spreading into your temple and down toward your jaw. When your fingertips brushed the area, you winced immediately. The spot was already tender.
“Y-you hit me.” The disbelief in your voice cracked into a sniffle. Almost instantly, tears welled in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry, darling.” John climbed onto the mattress, only to stop himself halfway through reaching for you. His hand hovered uncertainly in the air. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel unsafe around him.
Guilt twisted sharply in his chest. He wanted to explain that you’d startled him. Wanted to tell you it had been pure instinct. But that felt too much like shifting the blame. And John knew from experience that anything resembling blame would either make you defensive or send you retreating into yourself.
“We have to see my dad today!” The panic hit you so suddenly that John physically flinched.
The tears vanished. You scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet before stumbling toward the dresser mirror.
“Wait. Are you okay?” John stared after you, suffering a bit of emotional whiplash as you went from nearly crying to frantically inspecting your reflection.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You grabbed your face and groaned. “But you’re not going to be.”
Getting off the bed John stepped closer. The area around your eye was already turning red. A bruise was beginning to form beneath your cheekbone, stretching toward your temple.
His stomach dropped. If he was being honest, he’d hit you pretty hard. You were lucky the sharp edge of his elbow hadn’t split the skin.
“Darling, can I please look at it? I didn’t mean to—”
“I know!” You cut him off immediately.
“Now that I think about it, jumping on my military boyfriend while he’s fresh home from deployment might have been the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. I genuinely don’t know what I was thinking.” The words weren’t really directed at John. They sounded more like a furious lecture aimed at yourself.
John watched you pace back and forth in front of the dresser, muttering under your breath. With a frustrated sigh, he’d finally had enough of your spiraling. Reaching out, he caught your wrist and gently tugged you toward him. The movement startled you enough that your pacing stopped immediately.
Before you could protest, John’s hands settled on your hips. Letting out an involuntary squeak, you found yourself lifted clean off the floor and placed on top of your shared dresser.
Now sitting several inches higher, you were finally closer to eye level. Your face immediately grew warm. John ignored your flustered expression and tilted your chin upward between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand brushed a few loose strands of hair behind your ear as he inspected the damage.
The bruise wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d suspected. The area was swollen and already darkening, but the sharp point of his elbow had missed. He’d caught you with the flatter part of the bone.
All in all it was painful. Embarrassing. But not serious.
Relief settled into his chest. Unfortunately, it was competing with another feeling. Annoyance. You’d seen his nightmares. Seen him wake up swinging before. So why in God’s name had you thought launching yourself onto a sleeping soldier was a good idea?
The woman sitting in front of him was brilliant. The smartest woman John had ever met. Which made this even more baffling.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” You groaned and glanced toward the mirror again.
“I still don’t know why I did that.” You huffed.
“Bloody stupid idea if you ask me.” John hadn’t meant to say it out loud but he did. And your head snapped around looking at him in disbelief.
“I’m not stupid.” You insisted, clearly offended. The immediate defensiveness caught him off guard making his brows raise.
“I didn’t call you stupid.” John said matter of factly.
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You literally just did.”
“I said the idea was stupid.”
“Same thing.”
John stared at you.
“No. It isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
The argument was escalating so quickly he almost got whiplash. Moments ago you’d been worried he had fractured your face. Now you seemed more upset about a single word.
“It wasn’t your brightest moment.” John corrected.
If he’d sounded even remotely apologetic, you might have let it go. Instead, he sounded irritated.
Your eyes narrowed making John roll his own and go to make the bed in hopes to create some distance.
“You should be nicer to me.” Your tone was snappy as you stared at your boyfriend who was visibly annoyed with you.
“Why?” John asked unamused while tucking the sheets in neatly.
“You hit me.” Sliding off the dresser, you folded your arms and stared at him expectantly.
John returned a deadpan look.
“Right.” Then he went back to making the bed.
In his mind, he was being perfectly reasonable. You, on the other hand, had launched yourself at a sleeping man with military training and unresolved trauma. The bruise felt more like an occupational hazard than an assault.
“Well now my dad’s going to kill you.”
John glanced over his shoulder. Billy was the least of his concerns. Right now it seemed like you’d finish him off first.
“Billy’s a reasonable man.” John sighed.
You laughed, making John frown, blue eyes finally coming up to look at you.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Darling.”
You pointed at the rapidly darkening bruise.
“My dad’s going to see this and immediately assume you beat me.” Your face matched your tone, a subtle nudge for John to stop being an idiot.
“…Right.” For the first time all morning, John looked concerned.
“Just tell him the truth.” John suggested.
“You’re a terrible liar anyway. If he thinks you’re hiding something, it’ll look much worse.” Tossing his hands slightly in the air they fell back down clapping against John’s thighs.
“Maybe we should cancel.” Looking at your self again you grimaced at the bruise.
“No.” John crossed the room and cupped your face again. His expression softened immediately.
“It was an accident.” His thumb brushed gently beneath the bruise.
“You swear you’re okay?” The guilt was back. Heavy, persistent, no longer able to out run that he really did strike you whether it was intentional or not.
You could see it written all over his face. Leaning down, he pressed a feather light kiss against your bruised temple.
“I feel awful.” He whispered.
A small smile tugged at your lips.
“I’m fine. I promise. It hurts a little, but it looks way worse than it feels.” You confessed.
John studied you for another moment before finally nodding. Then his jaw tightened. Determination replaced guilt. Which was a surprise to you.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He stated matter of factly.
You immediately snorted.
“I think you’ll be making it up to my dad.”
——————
“Do I look okay?” you asked.
“Sure.” John didn’t even look at you.
“John.” You poked his shoulder. That finally got his attention.
“I told you at the flat that half a pound of makeup would make it more obvious.” The look he gave you was almost pitying.
You sighed in defeat. Yet again he was right.
“Yeah. I’m starting to think you were right.” You groaned.
“I usually am.”
You rolled your eyes. He could be so smug even in these tense moments. It could be infuriating.
“It’s going to be fine.” Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, John pulled you against his side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You nodded still feeling unsure and a strange tightness gripping your chest.
Then John knocked on your father’s front door. A few seconds later it swung open. Revealing a man about John’s height, built like a wall only not as muscular as he was when you were a kid.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.” Billy stepped aside with a grin, waving the two of you inside.
John entered first, squeezing your hand before letting go. You followed behind making sure to kick your shoes off in the pile by the door that was mostly your father’s. John placed his neatly to the side which made the mess look a little odd.
By the time your shoes were off, your father had already disappeared into the kitchen. He returned carrying two beers, Budweiser to be exact. Your favorite wine sat decanting on the kitchen counter.
Your father’s flat was small. The first room you entered was one long rectangle, the living room. He had a simple leather sofa, coffee table, and a entertainment system with a tv on the opposite wall. 1/3 into the room it turned from hardwood to the kitchen tile. And right before the kitchen to the right was a small hallway that lead to the bathroom and bedroom.
“Glad to be home?” Billy asked, handing a can to John.
“Been nice.” John accepted it with a nod.
“Y/N’s been spoiling me with cooking.” John’s words went from sincere to having a twisted look on his face from how unpleasant he found American beer. Billy snorted out a laugh at John’s expression.
“Smart man.” Taking his beer your dad motioned it towards you.
John glanced at you trying to silently remind you. Tell him now before he had a chance to jump to conclusions. You nodded feeling your heart pound in your chest.
The two of you had already agreed it would be better to explain immediately. Before assumptions could be made. Before your dad noticed.
Taking a breath, you opened your mouth.
“I bet. What’s she been ma—”
Billy stopped mid sentence. His eyes narrowed, fixed on your face. The room suddenly felt very quiet. You knew immediately he’d seen the bruise. Even underneath the makeup, the blueish purple discoloration was impossible to completely hide.
“Dad—”
Two loud thuds echoed through the room. The coffee table scrapping violently across the floor.
“Dad!” You screeched.
Your father had crossed the room so fast you barely registered it. One second he was standing beside the couch. The next, he had John by the front of his shirt. Billy shoved him backward hard enough that he stumbled into the coffee table before colliding with the wall.
The beers hit the floor. Foam exploded across the hardwood some seeping into the old second hand rug your dad thrifted. Your father looked ready to commit a felony. It wouldn’t be his first so you were anxious John was about to be murdered.
John, meanwhile, simply raised both hands. He didn’t fight back. Didn’t even look surprised but like a man ready to descalate the situation.
“Get the fuck out of my house.” Billy’s voice shook, teeth gritted, eyebrows knit together. This wasn’t fear for his daughter’s safety but pure white hot rage.
“Dad, stop!” You grabbed at his arm.
“Can I at least explain?” You begged.
“Explain what?” Billy barked. “Explain why he hit you?”
“It was an accident,” John said calmly which made Billy laugh. The sound was entirely humorless.
“Oh, I bet it was.” He said incredulously. “And I’ll make what I do to you look like an accident.” He growled in John’s face.
“I jumped on him while he was sleeping!” You shouted. That finally got his attention. The room fell silent once again.
“I thought it’d be funny. I scared him and he accidentally caught me with his elbow.” Billy looked between you and John. Trying to decide if he believed it. John’s expression wasn’t helping your case.
He looked profoundly disappointed. Finally, Billy released his grip. Though not before shoving John back into the wall one last time. Then he turned toward you.
“What were you thinking?” He snapped, his focus now on you.
You froze.
“A sleeping soldier fresh home from deployment?” Billy continued. “One you’ve watched wake up from nightmares before?” The disappointment in his voice somehow hurt more than the shouting. And John stood there wondering how much you shared about him with your father.
“What did you think was going to happen?” He demanded.
“I wasn’t thinking.” The answer came out small and somewhat frantic. Billy let out a sharp breath through his nose.
“Exactly.” He scoffed.
You immediately looked away. Because you already knew what was coming. The same question he’d asked a hundred times growing up.
“And what do we call people who don’t think?” Billy asked.
Eyes fixed on the floor you watched the beer leak from the red and white can. You couldn’t ignore the heat that crept up your neck.
“Stupid.” The word barely left your lips.
And for the first time all day, John understood.
The argument from earlier. Your defensiveness. The way you’d reacted when he called the idea of you jumping on him stupid.
He’d thought you were being stubborn like he knew you could be. Instead, he’d accidentally stepped on a bruise far older than the one on your face.
“Oi.” John stepped forward.
“It was an accident.” His hand settled against your back. A small protective gesture. Billy’s attention immediately shifted toward him.
“Yeah. And you still hit her.” John rubbed the back of his neck.
Fair point.
“How exactly do you plan on making that up?” The question rung through the air, a beat of silence following it.
“What?” John asked dumbfound.
“Better spoil her dumb ass rotten.” Billy pointed a finger at him.
“I’m talking flowers. Dinner. Jewelry. Empty your damn wallet.” Your dad barked at John.
Despite everything, John could only blink completely caught off guard.
“You serious?” He asked almost tripping over his words.
“Dead serious.” Billy threw his hands into the air and turned away. Clearly too angry to decide whether he wanted to yell more or lock himself in another room. Walking away and down the hall you and John both stood there stunned.
“And clean up the beer!” A door slammed somewhere deeper in the flat.
Silence followed. A longer silence than normal, as you watched the foam of the beer on the floor fizzle. John looked down at you, who was clearly disassociating.
“You’re not stupid.” John spoke quietly but sternly as if to make sure Billy didn’t hear him.
You bent to pick up an empty can. Ready to rinse them out and clean up the mess like your father had just ordered you both to do.
“Yeah, I know.” The lie wasn’t particularly convincing. John caught your elbow before you could pick up the cans.
“You.” John’s voice softened. Avoiding his gaze your name fell from John’s lips as an attempt to get you to look him in the eyes. Reluctantly, you looked up.
“You’re not stupid.” Something in his expression made your chest tighten. His crystal blue eyes speaking to you in a way you didn’t know you needed.
“It was an accident. A bad idea, sure. But you’re not stupid.” John continued.
You stared at him. For a moment, you felt like a little girl again. Like he wasn’t talking to the woman standing in front of him. As if he was trying to convince a little girl who’d spent years hearing otherwise.
Eventually, you nodded. Trying to ignore the swelling pain behind your eyes from suppressed tears.
“Yeah.” This time you almost believed it.
“I’m sorry he grabbed you.” John chuckled darkly at your apology, an attempt to get him to stop comforting a clearly sensitive scabbed over wound.
“Honestly? Thought he was about to swing.”
“Me too.” You laughed with no humor.
“I don’t blame him.” John shrugged, his hand rubbing your shoulder lovingly. You couldn’t hide the frown that took over your pretty lips. John’s head tilted slightly and he placed a kiss to the top of your head before hugging you close to his chest.
“If some bloke put a bruise on our daughter, I’d probably react worse.” The words left his mouth before he seemed to realize what he’d said.
Both of you froze. Yet another beat of silence filling the small flat.
“Our daughter?” you repeated breathlessly.
John immediately looked horrified.
“You know.” He cleared his throat “Hypothetically.” John rubbed the back of his neck and shifted a step backwards.
A grin spread across your face. A dangerous one. The type John saw right before you geared up to tease him.
“Oh no.” He groaned.
“Oh yes.” You giggled.
“What?”
“You like me.” You spoke proudly.
John rolled his eyes. Unable to hide the laugh, one of those bashful ones that rumbled from his chest.
“Yeah. Some might even say I love you.” The humor was still there but you could see in his eyes he meant it.
“Some might.” You agreed.
“I love you.” And there he was. Your charming, larger than life, man. Your grin softened instantly. No teasing was needed you just wanted to let this warmth take over and chase away the shame that was trying to cling to your heart.
“I love you too.”
John leaned down and kissed your forehead again, bringing you back into his rugged chest.
“Now let’s clean up these beers before your father comes back and finishes the job.” John shooed you toward the kitchen.
“Fair.” You grabbed a towel from the kitchen while John picked up the now empty cans.
“Then we can order food and watch a movie while he broods.” You suggested.
“I’ll handle the spilt beer.” John took the towel from you. His fingers lingering a second longer against the back of your hand, eyes glancing at your left ring finger that laid bare.
