A doorwoman who always high-fives children of divorce.18+ pls
5 posts
me when I awaken from my many month long rest to terrorize you bitches with my epically terrible writing skills for my newest hyperfixation
cw: price being a cutie patootie for his wife, tooth rotting fluff
John Price was quite certain that, of all the moments he's shared with you, this had to be one of his most treasurable. Each and every time the weather forecast predicted storms, from gale-force winds to a gentle Sunday shower, his sweet little wife insisted upon starting a pot of coffee and building a little nest in the nook of the windowsill; the spot he had built especially for you.
Without fail - not counting the times he was away from deployment - you'd always have a hot cup of coffee awaiting his arrival, and a warm pair of arms to fall into, surrounded by blankets and pillows. More often than not, you'd both end up foregoing the comforts of your own bed in order to bask in each other's arms, squished together against the window.
"Honey?" Stepping into your shared home, coat damp from the rainfall, John softly calls out to you. Just as he expected (and found himself looking forward to the whole drive home) the Wizard of Oz was playing at a low volume on the living room TV, blankets pulled from open cabinets, and your shared nest already neatly fluffed up with pillows and the aforementioned throws.
"Welcome home, handsome." You coo, catching him slightly off guard as you pad over from the kitchen. Immediately beginning to help him shed his soaked layers, you press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then finally on his lips. "Your coffee is on the counter. Go put some warm clothes on." You instruct, before giving him another chaste kiss.
Price groans appreciatively into your lips, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze before he's off to the bedroom, rushing to get changed into boxers and a loose-fitting crewneck sweater. Upon his return, you were precariously balancing two very full mugs, shuffling over from the kitchen to the living room. He's taking them from you with a chuckle, pressing sweet little pecks on your temple and forehead, then motioning for you to walk ahead to the windowsill.
Setting them down gently in the little square hole carved out by the window, (another handy little thing John insisted the builders add) John's quick to crawl onto the padded wood, making himself comfortable.
"C'mere, darling." He calls, voice gruff as he finally relaxes into the copious amounts of blankets surrounding him. The harsh wind and rain create a juxtaposing lullaby, his eyes already droopy by the time you're settling into his eager arms. With a contented smile, you drape yourself over your husband, the chill of the room quickly being chased off by his warm embrace. Turning so your back is to his chest, (so you could still see your favorite movie play out) you take a moment to fully appreciate the loving warmth radiating from your husband.
"You're like a space heater, y'know?" You murmur, words muffled against his chest.
"That so, love?" He responds, a breathy chuckle to his words. John is met with only a brief nod, then he's gathering you up further into his arms, squeezing your smaller body tightly against his.
"The main reason I married you, actually." You tease, meaning only a slight bit of it.
"And here I was, thinking it was jus' for John Junior." He concludes.
"Oh God..don't... don't call it that."
"Sorry, love. My cock. Thought it was all for my cock."
"Not sure that's any better, John."
"Mmph."
You giggle softly against him, prompting John to smile broadly into your hair. Shit, how he fucking loves that sound - he'd do anything just to hear it.
"Reckon it'll flood, dear?" He prompts after several minutes of silence, only to be met with the very same thing. John precariously tilts his head back, only to find you dozing off, cheek smushed oh so preciously against him. Reclining his head back onto his pillow, it only takes a few more moments of watching the little rain drops race to the bottom of the glass, and the captain's out like a light bulb, snoring loudly into your ear.
cute lil shitty drabble cause it's "raining fucking hard" down here in texas, and mouse loves rain. anyways, i feel like this one turned out like poopoo doodoo. next one will probably be Nik or Rudy. ~ mouse
cw: price being a cutie patootie for his wife, tooth rotting fluff
John Price was quite certain that, of all the moments he's shared with you, this had to be one of his most treasurable. Each and every time the weather forecast predicted storms, from gale-force winds to a gentle Sunday shower, his sweet little wife insisted upon starting a pot of coffee and building a little nest in the nook of the windowsill; the spot he had built especially for you.
Without fail - not counting the times he was away from deployment - you'd always have a hot cup of coffee awaiting his arrival, and a warm pair of arms to fall into, surrounded by blankets and pillows. More often than not, you'd both end up foregoing the comforts of your own bed in order to bask in each other's arms, squished together against the window.
"Honey?" Stepping into your shared home, coat damp from the rainfall, John softly calls out to you. Just as he expected (and found himself looking forward to the whole drive home) the Wizard of Oz was playing at a low volume on the living room TV, blankets pulled from open cabinets, and your shared nest already neatly fluffed up with pillows and the aforementioned throws.
"Welcome home, handsome." You coo, catching him slightly off guard as you pad over from the kitchen. Immediately beginning to help him shed his soaked layers, you press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then finally on his lips. "Your coffee is on the counter. Go put some warm clothes on." You instruct, before giving him another chaste kiss.
Price groans appreciatively into your lips, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze before he's off to the bedroom, rushing to get changed into boxers and a loose-fitting crewneck sweater. Upon his return, you were precariously balancing two very full mugs, shuffling over from the kitchen to the living room. He's taking them from you with a chuckle, pressing sweet little pecks on your temple and forehead, then motioning for you to walk ahead to the windowsill.
Setting them down gently in the little square hole carved out by the window, (another handy little thing John insisted the builders add) John's quick to crawl onto the padded wood, making himself comfortable.
"C'mere, darling." He calls, voice gruff as he finally relaxes into the copious amounts of blankets surrounding him. The harsh wind and rain create a juxtaposing lullaby, his eyes already droopy by the time you're settling into his eager arms. With a contented smile, you drape yourself over your husband, the chill of the room quickly being chased off by his warm embrace. Turning so your back is to his chest, (so you could still see your favorite movie play out) you take a moment to fully appreciate the loving warmth radiating from your husband.
"You're like a space heater, y'know?" You murmur, words muffled against his chest.
"That so, love?" He responds, a breathy chuckle to his words. John is met with only a brief nod, then he's gathering you up further into his arms, squeezing your smaller body tightly against his.
"The main reason I married you, actually." You tease, meaning only a slight bit of it.
"And here I was, thinking it was jus' for John Junior." He concludes.
"Oh God..don't... don't call it that."
"Sorry, love. My cock. Thought it was all for my cock."
"Not sure that's any better, John."
"Mmph."
You giggle softly against him, prompting John to smile broadly into your hair. Shit, how he fucking loves that sound - he'd do anything just to hear it.
"Reckon it'll flood, dear?" He prompts after several minutes of silence, only to be met with the very same thing. John precariously tilts his head back, only to find you dozing off, cheek smushed oh so preciously against him. Reclining his head back onto his pillow, it only takes a few more moments of watching the little rain drops race to the bottom of the glass, and the captain's out like a light bulb, snoring loudly into your ear.
cute lil shitty drabble cause it's "raining fucking hard" down here in texas, and mouse loves rain. anyways, i feel like this one turned out like poopoo doodoo. next one will probably be Nik or Rudy. ~ mouse
please, be sure to read all content warnings! Happy reading, my loves! <3 ~mouse
John Price:
soap perving on john & wife (s)
rainy evenings (f)
Robert "Bob" Floyd:
Natasha "Phoenix" Trace:
Beau "Cyclone" Simpson:
Mick Mars:
Scattered Headcanons (f)
Jason Newsted:
Bitter (s)
Ahoy there, I'm Mouse! I write for my many hyperfixations. Please beware that some content may be disturbing to some viewers, so I ask that you are sure to read each warning on each piece. Feel free to come chat or vent <3
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Request status: Closed for writing, open for thoughts :)