I Feel Like Nik’s Music Taste Is Everywhere.

Nik has a CRAZY wind up for smacking ass when he and John are home alone. Nuclear shit that makes John Tom and Jerry scream /hj

He sees John bending over to grab something out of a cupboard and he locks in on his target with the focus of a sniper.

If John jumps and hits his head inside of the cabinet then he knows he'll have to buy dinner to win the Enlishman's favor, yet again but he won't regret it.

They were never ugly, they just never met your unrealistic standards of how someone’s “supposed” to look.

I just realized that I didn’t really introduce myself when I first came here and just started writing shit off gate so I should probably do that in some way..

But instead of yapping your ears off, I made this “mood board”(or whatever tf it is) to give you a peek of my personality.

UGH, this so was scrumptious I had to come back a second time to enjoy it😩😚

Nikolai takes Price out to every match, or musical, or meeting, every concert, or conference, or convention, that he can find.

Because he didn’t get the chance to go out, where he was before. He didn’t get to experience the world around him. Nikolai didn’t get to leave the bubble he grew up in, because it’s hard to go anywhere at all with nothing to your name.

Price, if he’s honest, hates it. The next time he gets dragged out to some drag show he doesn’t give two shits about, or a five-hour lecture about some old Latin bullshit, he swears that he’ll kill someone.

That is, until he glances up at Nikolai on the train home. The way he’s smiling, mostly to himself, before looking away and out the window.

From that night onwards, Price shows up when he asks without hesitation. Whether abroad, or local, he goes to Nikolai’s side.

Because as much as he may hate spending hours in sweaty convention halls, watching his back, he hates Nikolai being sad more.

..Price being told to kill Nikolai because he’s being suspected of giving away info and having connections to Makarov, as well as helping him get more weapons.

..Price being devastated because— what? Nik wouldn’t do that.

The Nik that he’s known since he joined the military wouldn’t do that.

The Nik that he’s spent countless nights with telling his deepest, darkest secrets to wouldn’t do that.

The Nik that he shared his first kiss with, who he gave his heart and soul to, wouldn’t do that.

…The Nik that he’s let around his boys, that he’s let into his life, wouldn’t do that.

..he has until Friday to do it, to put a bullet in his lover’s skull. If he fails, then they’ll get Nik and him for suspicion of cover up. Hell, maybe they’ll beat Nik bloody in front of him(or vice versa), who knows?

John’s at a loss on what to do, so he calls his old captain for advice. At the end of the conversation, he’s left with two choices: Play by the kings, or Play by the sword.

I think the choice is obvious.

Nik’s father always told him to never mix chemicals together because it could be deadly to himself and everyone around him, and God he wishes he’d listened to him instead of getting involved with a certain Captain from a certain TaskForce, because a small issue can lead into something big, and then they argue, and then they drink, and then they have drunken sex, and then they wake up with a headache in the morning.

“I hate you.” John grunts as Nik thrusts wildly in and out of him, brows furrowed and eyes hazy with lust and something dangerously close to spite. “Can never stop sleepin’ around.”

“Would not have to if you made time for me.” Nik responds with a bitter tone, which soon turns into a groan as he feels John clench around his length. “Ебать!”

“You prick. You know that I’ve tried, and when I do-“ He pauses with a whimper, feeling himself nearing his climax. “Y-You’re always-“

Suddenly, John’s body tenses up and he clamps his thighs around Nik as he comes, a filthy moan leaving his lips and strings of his release splattering on his stomach.

Nik doesn’t stop though, no. Instead, he goes harder and faster, overstimulating John’s senses to where he can only babble out “I hate you’s” and “Nik’s”, stars dancing in his vision as his prostate is assaulted over and over again.

“You hate me and yet you always end up here, in my bed beneath me.” Nik grunts as he stares down at John, shifting a bit to piston deeper into the Captain. “Why do you think that is, hm?”

John begins to get louder, eyes flying open and back arching as his body begins to tremble.

“If you hate me so much, why not get rid of me. Ignore me, ship me out to a different base, kill me.” Nik says, and John musters up the best frown he could and looks away. But Nik won’t have that and brackets the man’s head between his arms before leaning down so they could be eye to eye. “Look at me Johnathan. Look at me. Answer the question.”

And as their eyes met, Nik lets out a feral grunt before catching John’s lips in his own, tongues dancing and teeth clashing in the sloppiest way possible with Nik coming inside the Brit, who soon followed.

Soon, Nik pulls away and stares dead into John’s hazy blue eyes, a string of saliva still connecting the two. He then leans down and kisses his neck, working his way up to his ear and kissing the shell of it before grinning.

“Because you can’t.” The Russian says simply, and John can do nothing but let out a whimper as Nik flips him over on his knees and pushes his chest down to the mattress, face buried into the satin pillow case that laid on the bed as Nik began fucking him once more(and if they ended up cuddling right after and holding each other so tight that they could barely breathe, then sue them).

I imagine that John is a patient man in the right circumstances.

Waiting in line for a coffee? Cool.

Waiting for a pot of water to start boiling? Alright.

Waiting for an enemy to come around the corner so he could take them out? Thrilling.

He’s more patient with everyday things. But the first time he orders something online and has to wait for what feels like 30 to 40 business days? He damn near goes insane.

It takes all of Nik’s mental strength to endure John talking about the package damn near everyday, and even more physical strength to keep him from ripping the front door off its hinges once it finally arrives. Nik hopes that it’s a letter from the damn President, but it’s not.

No, instead it’s a chicken timer.

A chicken timer that clucks.

And John is pleased with himself.

Very pleased.

What if one day Nik is helping John with his garden out back and it gets really hot so he ties up his hair into a man bun before lifting two heavy bags of soil, one under his arm and the other over his shoulder.

John sees this and drags that man back inside for a few minutes before they come back out to finish planting the Marigold seeds.

The weekend is upon me and suddenly all my depressive thoughts are being replaced by ones of clarity and happiness.

Hallelujah, thank you Jesus.

Hopefully, when the economy gets better and I get out of college, I’ll make lots of money, be single with no kids, move states, and have a 90’s-early 2000’s looking house with a deep undivided sink, a deep bathtub with tile flo- everything, warm lighting, and just.. early 2000’s everything.

I’ll have records of my favorite artists on the wall, a record player that’s awesome sauce(because I’m awesome sauce), and my wardrobe will be filled to the brim with cool clothes that I wear 24/7(because I’m cool). I’ll have a red convertible beetle with daisy rims, and when I ride in it with the ceiling down, I’ll have chunky shades to shield my eyes from the harsh beams of the sun. And I’ll also have a chunky purse with mad accessories and decorations like pins and keychains, and whenever I walk you’ll be sure to hear me from a mile away(because I’m that girl).

Point of this post is, some people’s American dream is to make good money and get married and have kids and live a stable life, and that’s great, but my American dream is to be rich, be financially stable, and just have fun. Any problems I experience along the way is just character development.