#but now i wear johnnys boots so

[thy-void-dweller]

boy why you so

i heart my v 😊😊😊

[criminalamnesia]

Not a request but NEW TRAITOR CHAP WHEN??? prioritize urself no rush Pookie just the ppl gotta know

part 7 is here 🙏

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

it was pouring rain as you slid from the taxi, the driver attempting to yell at you to shut the door as thunder rumbled overhead.

you paid him no heed; boots splashed in murky puddles as you pushed the door closed and moved towards the yellow cab’s trunk.

you could barely hear yourself think. the rain was battering the ground as if locked in a viscous war with the cracked pavement— puddles forming as the asphalt resisted with all its might. it wasn’t enough, water seeping into the ground and muddying the grass nearby, drowning it mercilessly.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before shutting the trunk. you’d barely stepped back from the car before it was speeding off, kicking up water and splashing your legs.

you didn’t mind— you were soaked through to the bone, anyways. besides, you didn’t mind the storm. it was comfort— a distraction from what lay ahead.

your new team. a small, covert operations group made up of the best of the best. two sergeants, a lieutenant, a captain— and they wanted one more soldier.

the opening couldn’t have come at a better time. you’d run your course with your old squad. they’d been fine— until they weren’t. carelessness and ignorance from teammates almost resulted in your untimely death, and laswell hadn’t questioned your transfer request after hearing the tale.

in fact, she’d recommended the one-four-one to you.

you thought you’d be meeting them on base, but the captain had requested you meet them here, instead. a run-down old diner, with its bright, neon pink sign blinking down at you through the rain.

you inhaled, then exhaled. clenched your fists, then unclenched them. it was a habit you’d had since you were a child. it forced you to slow down and think, to overcome the emotions you were lost in.

you blinked. rain ran down your face, creating false tears as it streamed from the corners of your eyes. you were sure you looked a sight.

another inhale, another exhale, and then you moved towards the diner’s door. you pushed it open, stepping inside and wiping your boots on the mat in front of the door.

“I think you’re gonna need to do more than that to dry off, sweetheart” a woman’s voice calls to you, causing you to look up towards the counter. she’s grimacing, looking you up and down. no doubt she’ll be following your path through the building with a mop in hand.

“sorry,” you tell her, trying to brush some water from your jacket. “forgot my umbrella.”

the woman gave a huff, waving her hand before turning and attending to an ancient-looking coffee maker.

you take the time to glance around the diner then, noting the substantial lack of customers. only two booths were occupied, one containing a young couple tangled in each other’s arms, and the other containing a man wearing a baseball cap with the UK flag patched on it.

he looked up from his phone as you approached, seemingly unsurprised based on the grin he gave you.

“glad to see you got here in one piece,” he says as you shrug off your bag, placing it on the floor as you slide into the seat across from him.

“one drenched piece,” you say, and he gives a small chuckle.

“im kyle,” the man tells you. “don’t know what laswell told you,” he clicks off his phone and places it on the table. “but im one of the sergeants.”

you nod. “callsign ‘gaz,’ right?”

he gives a nod of his own. his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. his eyes glance down, scan the message, then meet yours once more.

“rest of the team got held up. price is in a meeting. johnny and ghost are on assignment, but they’re due back any day now.”

“so you’re the welcome committee by default, huh?” you say, and he laughs.

“guess i am. have i scared you off yet?”

“dunno,” you tell him. “but laswell sings your praises. the captain’s, especially.”

“she sings yours, too.” kyle says.

you give a small nod, your mind racing at what laswell may have told the task force. you weren’t bad at your job— you were great at it. a great shot, a reliable solider, a tireless sentry.

your emotions got the better of you at times, that was all. attachments and bonds that formed, linking you and your fellow soldiers together in the web of warfare. tying you around the wrist and dragging you along, for better or worse. little siblings or lovers evolving from what once had been just another set of boots on the ground.

this job was all you had. you found family where you had too, and it made you all the more loyal. but when you were spurned? when the fire leapt from the pit and scorched your skin?

you weren’t quick to forgive, and you found that reasonable in this line of work. mistakes by teammates could get you killed. who could blame you for holding a grudge against an ally who had almost cost you your life?

it’s why you were here now. a new start with a new team— a team of the best, you included.

kyle’s phone buzzes again. he picks it up, the screen illuminating his face as the lights flicker overhead. the storm wasn’t letting up.

“cap’s on his way— says he’ll be here in less than 30.”

“price, right?” you recall his name. kyle nods.

“don’t tell him I told you,” he leans in, a mischievous look in his eyes, “but he’s been lookin’ forward to meeting you. maybe even more than johnny has.”

“why’s that?”

“said the one-four-one is overdue for someone else who can kick johnny’s ass. wants you to knock him down a few more pegs.”

you laugh at that, giving a small shake of your head. kyle’s lips curl into a smile. “nah, he’s just happy to have some more hands on deck. always helps to have another person that’ll watch your back.”

as kyle starts talking again, you find your nerves settling.

maybe this team could be your new family.

you looked down at your hands, noting the slight shake of them. you don’t think they’d been steady since before everything happened.

your eyes glance to the ugly, scarred stump of the finger you’d lost. simon hadn’t chopped it off prettily, and it’d been stitched up hastily. you couldn’t blame the doctor, there had been more pressing injuries to attend to.

such as the bone-deep cut to one leg, growing infected from your time spent in the chair. the scar was long, stretching from the top of your thigh to your knee. it was still pink, a sign of your body still trying to put itself back together.

your torso wasn’t much better. jagged scars and puckered knots of skin marred your image. both from before and from after.

your eyes met your own in the mirror. you barely recognized yourself. the anger within you still burned, but its flame had reduced to a simmer. exhaustion, apathy, and shame had taken its place.

perhaps that was a good thing. it saved you the energy of fighting the men you inevitably saw every day. despite your numerous pleas and demands for them to simply leave you alone, they seemed to have a hard time listening. it made you want to scream. to hurt them, digging your fingers into skin until they understood the pain behind your words.

a knock sounded at the door. you didn’t move.

a knock again. you could hear the shuffle of feet outside the door. you wished whoever it was would leave you be.

another knock, accompanied by the soft timbre of kyle’s voice.

“love, you alright in there?” he was saying. you still stood before the mirror.

things had been different since you attacked the doctor. it had only been a few days, but word spread quickly through base. if people had avoided you before, you were like the plague now.

and the shame you felt was insurmountable. the pain and regret and fury were building like a tidal wave in your stomach, rising and choking the air from your lungs.

you wanted to leave this place. get away from the men you once called family, the one you once called yours.

but leaving meant the end of your career. you just had to hold out until kate arranged your transfer, that’s all. just a few more days, right?

and then this place and these people wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what had happened to you. of what it had done to you, physically and mentally.

“go, kyle,” you called out to him, breaking from your trance as you reached for the scratchy robe johnny had gifted you one christmas.

“not until i see you breathin’, love.”

you sigh, tying the robe shut and hugging the material to your body. you moved to the door, turning the lock before inching it open.

“breathing,” you tell him, watching as his eyes flick away from yours. god, it made you want to strangle him.

to yell at him, to yell at all of them— "you did this, and you should be able to look me in the eyes and see it.”

“now go.”

he looks at you again, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “will you let me in?” he asks, and you scoff as you move to slam the door.

“fuck off, kyle.”

but he’s quick, and his hand shoots out, grasping the door’s wooden edge and keeping it from closing.

“we need to talk.”

“whatever you need to say, you can say it from there,” you tell him, and he pauses for a minute before he nods.

“doc is asking about you again. she’s up and runnin’ around. said she wants to see you.”

your lips press into a thin line. you didn’t deserve that woman’s kindness, not after what you’d done to her.

you hadn’t been in your right mind, but that didn’t excuse it. you had bloodied your fists; harmed an innocent in the war between you and your own mind.

you didn’t want to see her still worrying about you when you had assured her you were fine. you had left her supervision, and then you’d attacked her. and you hadn’t stopped until simon had pulled you away.

you would’ve killed her, you know that in your heart. you would’ve killed her, thinking she was one of the men who had wanted to kill you.

“tell her im fine,” you said, your hand tightening around the door’s knob.

“i think she’d rather see that for herself,” he says.

“im fine,” you repeat. “i’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a few days, anyways.”

kyle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “you’re leaving?”

he knew this, they all did. perhaps they just didn’t truly believe it. all of them, every single one, still thought you’d turn around and run back into their arms.

bastards.

“as soon as laswell gives the word,” you reply. “should be soon.”

kyle doesn’t speak. he’s obviously biting his tongue— you’d seen the expression that was on his face enough to know when he was holding back, but you didn’t prod like you would’ve before.

let him keep his secrets, lies, promises, and sorries. you didn’t need them anymore.

“don’t bother me again,” you said before shutting the door in his face.

you hear him sigh on the other side of the wood, then hear the retreat of his steps. you turn back to the mirror, snarl, and grab the alarm clock from your nightstand.

you throw it into the glass, shattering it to pieces. seven years of bad luck, you think.

well, it couldn’t get much worse, could it?

kyle sighs, staring at your door for a second longer before turning away. simon looks down at him from where he was leaning against the wall, hidden from your view, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“surprised?” simon asks as the two of them retreat down the hallway. he makes sure they’re far enough from your door before speaking, so that you won’t hear his voice.

“we knew it was happening, price said as much after that whole thing with johnny,” kyle replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “just thought this might change things.”

“change ‘em how?” simon says. “if anythin’, this speeds it up. they’re a liability now.”

“they’re hurt, ghost,” kyle retorts, his eyes meeting his superior’s. “that’s ptsd. not everyone’s as forgiving as the doc. they attack someone outside and that’s a fucking felony.”

“that’s not our problem, sergeant,” comes simon’s baritone reply, and kyle stops.

“you’re a fuckin’ case yourself, y’know that, LT?” he says, and simon stops. “we all played a part,” kyle continues. “but you? you would’ve killed ‘em if we never knew the truth. i know you would’ve. i’ve seen you do it.”

the men stare at each other. simon’s expression is hidden underneath his balaclava, but kyle knows it’s unreadable regardless.

mean, old ghost. heartless bastard, loyal to the mission only. that’s what the others around base whispered to each other.

kyle had seen proof to the contrary. yes, simon was loyal to the mission. but he was also loyal to his team, his family. you.

he was loyal to you.

“watch yourself, sergeant,” simon speaks, his voice a dangerous rumble.

kyle scoffs and walks off, shaking his head.

simon watches him go, his breath steady.

kyle didn’t understand him, not really. not the way you had begun to. and that was his own fault, he knows it. forever holding those close to him at arms length for fear of the worst.

he’d let you in— let you invade that space he enforced so ruthlessly. and the worst had happened.

kyle doesn’t know this is tearing him in half; none of the team does. they don’t understand that simon wants you to stay because you’re you, but he wants you gone because he can see how this is killing you.

even when he’s the villain in your story, he’s still trying to look out for you— in his own, twisted way.

he doesn’t regret it. that is cemented in his mind. but as he grapples with his own emotions, his mind in its own turmoil, he knows he wants you to be okay.

“im sorry,” he had spoken to deaf ears.

sorry for the ripping apart of your life, but not sorry for what he had done.

deep down, he knew you would never forgive them. he knew that leaving this team would be the best thing for you.

he knew, he knew, he knew.

knowing and accepting are two different things.

hope this was worth the wait! i think the next part will be the end, unless my idea changes 👀

[iateyourparents]

change | j.g.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend changes your style.

warnings: use of y/n, i have no idea how actually emos dress like so it’s based on pinterest and my imagination, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: i actually didn’t plan on writing for johnnie but few people were asking for him, so hope you like it guys <33

pictures are from pinterest:)

“Hi guys, welcome to my channel!” You did quick intro to your video “Today I’m here with Johnnie!” said boy waved to the camera “And he will…”

“I will change y/n’s look to emo girl for today!” he explained with huge smile.

“Exactly! Are you excited?”

“Yes!” he nodded vigorously “I’m sure you will look great. And how you feel about it?”

“I’m kinda scared.” you laughed “I believe in your abilities to not make me look like a monster, but I think emo is more like dark colors, chains and strong make up. And that’s totally different from my everyday style. But I also can’t wait to see how I will look.” you kissed johnnie’s cheek.

“Hot, for sure.” he moved his eyebrows suggestively and you laughed “I have really nice outfit prepared for you. And yes, it’s more dark than what you wear everyday but you will look lovely anyway, you could make trashcan look like the best designer’s clothes.”

You felt blush creeping onto your cheeks and you quickly said few more things to the camera and then you and Johnnie went to your bedroom where he already had prepared everything, from clothes and shoes to make up products and jewelry.

“Oh, let me also mention guys, that it will be the first time ever when Johnnie will do my make up.” you told your viewers “But I have good feeling about it.”

Finally, Johnnie started styling you. At first, he gave you the clothes he wanted you to wear. It was red tube top with black, web like, thingie on the shoulders, black leather pants and pair of black high boots that actually were from your closet.

Then he also added jewelry and showed you and your fans the bag he wanted you to hold when he will be completely done.

“So now, make up.” Johnnie sat you down on the chair so everything could be seen by camera “I need you to look up baby.”

He started with eyeliner, and to be honest, it turned out great, then he did your lips with deep red lipstick and asked you to contour your face and do brows the way you do it everyday.

Then he positioned you and the camera so you could show off the whole look.

“So what do you think love?” Johnnie asked when you were looking into the mirror.

“I like it, not really something I would wear everyday but it looks good.” you smiled at your boyfriend.

“I think you look fabulous baby.” Johnnie kissed you.

Then you made an outro for the video and you both decided to order something for lunch before you would have to go out to meet with your friends.

“I think I will go in this.” you told Johnnie. You saw how he looked at the outfit and you knew he liked it.

“I’m glad you like it.” he looked proud of his work.

“Would you want me to dress like this more often? I can see that you like it.” you tilted your head, waiting for his answer.

“I think you look hot but I also love your everyday style. I wouldn’t be opposed to you dressing like this more but only if you feel good with it and not because of me. I actually like it when I look like I look and you are in your cute, light colors outfits.” he shrugged with a smile and kissed your lips.

“Yeah I also like it.” you agreed “I saw a comment saying that together we look like golden retriever and doberman.” you both laughed at your words.

“I love this comparison. That’s really accurate though.” he shrugged.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Nine

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence. Medical chart from a SANE EXAM. Simon's family history, trauma. Brief sexual content. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Heavy emotions. Scars. Reader in pain. Hurt/comfort. Kate is a dog with a bone. Penny is cute. POV switches. Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise.

You can’t breathe.

The air is too thin, too tight, and you stand, silent, in the foyer of the home that you’ve been invited to.

A clock ticks on the wall. You count each second, waiting. 

You should leave. You should run. 

Simon’s footsteps echo above your head, already up the stairs with your first bag and work backpack.

He said to make yourself at home, but you can’t move.

The foyer is the foyer of a family. There is a hall tree with little shoes scattered beneath it, a tiny, pink backpack hanging on the hook. Too many wellies to count, all in pastel colors, matching a small yellow and green rain jacket that’s folded on the stairs. There’s a black hoodie, a black jacket, and a green on the coat rack, hung haphazardly with a toss. Men’s sizes, and you notice two pairs of trainers next to one pair of black boots, and two crayons hide, peeking out from under the bench, one blue, one purple, so worn down they’re almost half gone.

A home. A family. 

“Hey, so up-“ You flinch. The jolt has you stumbling, one misstep over another, and he tenses, prepared to steady you, careful hand outstretched, but not encroaching.

“Sorry.” You shouldn’t be here. 

“No, I’m sorry. I know better.” You blink, and the silence is heavy, weighted down like bricks at the bottom of a river. 

He’s still wearing the mask. 

 “Can I… give you a tour?”

“S-sure.”

You lose your breath again in the kitchen.

Simon turns away to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher as you stare at the fridge and its collage with a tight chest. It’s covered; photos, invitations, magnets, notes, finger painted masterpieces. You step closer, studying, noticing the way they all fit together, mix matched perfectly, and even in the pictures, the three of them glow effortlessly, too sweet and smiling, happy. Together. A family. A perfect unit.

Your nose tingles, and you blink back the tears that fight forward, wiping away the two that escape and trickle down your cheek. You don’t know why it overwhelms you, why it fills you with grief.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To have a family, like this? 

Get it together. You’re a guest in their house.

It’s too much, and you chastise yourself for getting so emotional over nothing, over something stupid.

You need to be alone. 

Dry sandpaper scrubs the back of your throat when you swallow. “Simon?” He turns, concerned, glancing at the fridge and then back to you, drying his hands on a towel.  

“What is it?”

“Can I… I’m sorry. I’m… tired.” You try to explain your needs but it’s awkward on your mouth, uncomfortable. His expression creases with sympathy.

“Of course, c’mon. I’ll show you.”

“Alright, one more step.”

“’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bun. You’re alright.” In the back of your mind, you’re registering Simon’s warmth, the wilted lean that has you tipped into him, slow steps on the stairs, one by one as you fight to stay upright. He’s warm, and pillowy… the kind of comfort you could sink into, disappear inside for a while. It sounds so… nice.

But your shoulder is throbbing. The pain combined with the emotions swirling about in your heart has you on the verge of tears, top teeth dug into your lip, and your molars grind against one other with each step.

“It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. Even now, after agreeing, getting in the car, getting yourself here… the desire to bolt runs hot under your skin, buzzing inside your skull, an insistent need.

You’re in their house. Where they live. With their baby. 

What if he comes back? What if he hurts them? 

“Hey.” Simon says your name slowly, ducking down to get your attention. Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m just… exhausted.”

“I’m sure. It’s right here.” He opens the door to a room, flicking on a light switch. The walls are a sage green, a gentle hue that matches the bedspread, framed photos organized into a gallery wall, pictures of smiles and laughter, a tiny Penny in Simon’s naked arms, a candid shot of Johnny in full military regalia, the three of them together somewhere, hiking, with Pen snuggled in a papoose on Johnny’s chest. The bed is the centerpiece, a massive king size piled with pillows, and it looks so inviting, so soft that you want to collapse into it right here and now.

“Wow.” It’s the best you can do, considering the screeching agony vibrating in your shoulder. You try to breathe through it, but the pain only shortens your draw.

“Yeah, it’s our old bed. Very comfortable.” He puts your other duffel down by the dresser, and you try not to dwell on the idea of it once being theirs, where they slept, where they’ve loved one another, held each other, their child, their- “It’s got its own bathroom, just through here.” He’s on the other side of the room, turning on a light that is far too bright, and you squint, jerking away with a gasp. Are you getting a migraine too? “Shit, sorry.” The room spins. You stumble towards the bed, limbs heavy, head full of cement, wooziness blurring your immediate sight. You’re disjointed, a mess of pain and disorientation, and you cover your eyes with a palm.

“Sorry, I think… I think I’m getting a headache. My shoulder-“ it slips out before you can stop yourself, and even with your eyes closed, you know Simon is staring at you, picking you apart with his eyes.

“Your shoulder?” You’re on a runaway train now. It has no brakes. No destination. It just barrels down the tracks, unable to stop for rational thought or pleas of mercy. It has no plan, and it does not heed you. You’re helpless. Hopeless. Lost. Reaching out for a light in the dark, a rope, a life vest, and a sob breaks through to the surface.

“It really hurts.”

“It hurts?” His voice cuts, tone worried. “Which one?” You use your good side to point, shakily.

“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.” You try to tell him, try to explain that you don’t mean to cry, or be emotional. You don’t mean to be making a fuss. You’re not supposed to be a problem.

A warm hand lays atop your thigh, thumb rubbing into your scrub pants.

“Sweetheart, you’re in pain. You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Your vision blurs, thick with tears, and fingers gently probe along your shoulder cuff. When you flinch, he swears. “Shhh, alright. Easy.” He’s gentling a spooked horse, carefully feeling along where you ache as you cry through it, unable to stop. “I’m going to go get some ice. We can… wrap it up, if you think that will help?”

“Ye-yeah, okay.” His steps fade, and you try to get your top off, sliding the arm that doesn’t hurt underneath your turtleneck, which is confined by the rigidity of your scrub top.

When you try the other one, the pain is so sharp, a cry bursts from your lips, and Simon sprints up the stairs. How did it get so much worse between the beginning of your shift and now? 

“What happened?”

“I can’t… I can’t get my shirts off.” You uselessly tug at the hem, eyes half open, letting it fall from your fingers, stuck in a loop, frantic movements matching the increasing pace of your lungs.

“Can I help?” His face is lined in concentration, and you spot an icepack on the bed now, with a sling, and a wrap. They’re prepared. Must come home with a fair number of injuries. “Bun, are you with me?” You sniffle and nod. What choice do you have? What choice do you ever have? The pain is too much. It’s all too much, and it boils over until you need to get the shirts off, not caring that it will expose you, or show Simon the very details you’re always trying to hide. You’re too far lost now, too far gone.

If you’re here, in their home, shouldn't you let them see? Shouldn't you let them know? 

The truth is terrifying, the reality of the trust you have in them. You know Simon won’t hurt you, instinctively. You feel safe here, in their home, their old bed, and when he looks at you, you show him, just for a second, the fractured mirror that is your reflection. You show him the pain and the rage and the fear, you give him everything. You shove the girl in the mirror forward, you force her into the sun and you hold her face to the light, trying not to sob as she screams at you in protest.

Just for a second.

“Okay.” He nods, and then cups your cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You nod with tears that sting, and then you slowly pull away, slipping back into yourself, hiding the girl in the mirror away, making more promises to her that you’re not sure you’re going to keep.

“We’re going to put this one,” He slowly, carefully lifts the arm with the bad shoulder until it’s resting on his own, “right here. That alright?” A whimper builds, but you give him another nod, breathing through the anguish. There are a million little needles in your shoulder, all stabbing you over and over, ripping and gnawing at the cartilage, or the bone, or the muscle… you can’t be sure. “I’m going to bring your scrub top up now. Is this okay?” his fingers peel it from the turtleneck, and when he gets to your head, you incline your neck, more tears rushing forth.

“Yeah.” You whisper, a tired, pained moan, falling from your lips without permission.

“I know it hurts; I know. Almost there, try to breathe.” He soothes you, and the top slides towards him along your arm. He pulls it free, throwing it on the floor somewhere, his hands returning to your thighs.

“Sorry.” It’s automatic, ingrained. A reaction to pain, to fear, to the idea of being a burden, something that haunts you, every day. He ignores it.

“Ready for the next?” The turtleneck comes less easy, but the two of you are in sync like dance partners. The pain shoots up your arm when you move your neck again, and Simon wipes a few tears from your cheek, carefully leaning you back into the pillows and pulling the comforter down.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, the raw edge of surprise, horror, you’re sure, and you close your eyes. You can't look at him, when you know what he sees. You know what you look like. A roadmap of foolishness. Of weakness. You know the scars are plainly on display, still raised, still ugly. Like you.

He says nothing, only sits at your side, bed dipping with his weight. “I’m going to take your shoes off too, okay?” He narrates and asks for permission with each touch, pulling your sneakers free, satisfying thunk of each one hitting the floor, and then moves on to sliding the ice pack underneath you, wrapping it firmly but not too tight, ensuring it stays in place. He’s tender and slow, thoughtful, your eyes fighting to stay closed, brain and body starting to drift off into uncomfortable sleep. “Not yet, sweetheart.” There’s a rattle, two pills being deposited into your hand.

“What are these?"

“Paracetamol.” He turns the bottle, label out, word coming into focus enough to be verified, and you swallow them down with the glass of water in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” The croak stays lodged in your throat, and his eyes crinkle, the sign of a smile.

“Get some rest.” It’s comfort he gives you, leaning forward, pressing mask covered lips to your forehead. Comfort that doesn’t elicit a flinch or a sense of wariness, and you bask in the shine of the sun on your skin, holding tight to it, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

“Banky.” Pen demands, hands outstretched.

“No binky, it’s lunch time. Lunch.” Simon makes the sign for lunch, L shaped pointer finger and thumb, circling the corner of his mouth. He does it a few times, accompanied with the word again and again until Penny huffs and leans back, eyes wide. “You try. You try, lunch.”

“No!” She shrieks, and he shushes her, scattering some banana puffs across her tray.

“Shhh Pen. Bun is sleeping, remember?”

“Bunny seep?” She gives him the sign for sleep, or her sign at least, a palm dragging down her face followed by very dramatic closing lids. “Seep?”

“Yes, sleeping.” Simon makes the sign to acknowledge she was correct. “Good job.” He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles, sweetness melting away some of the tense worry that's taken up in his heart.

“Puff?” She holds one out to him, but he shakes his head, pointing at her mouth.

“For you. Eat them, eat your puffs.” He signs along with the words, and she mimics him, food in hand, eyes lighting up when she finally makes it in her mouth.

He glances towards the stairs. You’re in the guest room, far enough away that Penny’s noise shouldn’t wake you, but still he tries to keep her preoccupied, distracted from making a fuss.

He wants you to get as much sleep as possible, this morning’s discovery of your shoulder unsettled him more than he’s frankly comfortable with, and the image of your swollen, battered face and neck leers and taunts. 

She’s safe now. She’s here. 

“Dada.” Pen calls, and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips across his baby’s soft skin, wispy curls tickling his nose. 

“Love you, baby girl.” He signs it too, and she beams.

“Luh.” It’s supposed to be love, and though the word is a struggle, the sentiment is the same. He doesn’t care that she’s not quite got it yet, he’ll take every word, every syllable he can get. These moments, each moment with his child, Johnny’s child, theirs… is a gift, one he never thought he’d have until Johnny. A privilege.

His phone vibrates with a text message.  

>Simon

>Give me a ring when you get a chance. On the black cell.  

“Thought you were on vacation?” Kate sighs, click clack of keys echoing in the background.

“I am, but if I’m too idle I start to go crazy. The wife likes it when I have a project.” Simon pauses, cocking his head. Penny’s feet kick in the highchair, baby spoon banging against the plastic tray.

“Hang on, Kate.” He drags a kitchen chair over in front of her so he can sit, pinning the phone between his shoulder and chin to twist the lid off the applesauce pouch. “Shhh, here you go." Penny gurgles with a grin at the taste of the fruit, and he smiles back at her. "So, what’s the new project then?”

“The nurse.” Simon’s eyes dart to the floor above his head.

“It’s not a good time.”

“I can talk, you can listen.” She brushes him off, sipping something with ice and then continuing. “I found it hard to believe that a civilian would be able to scrub their footprint like this, so I did a little digging. The more digging I did, the worse my fixation became.” Like a dog with a bone.Simon holds his breath. “I just needed a key, and with those photos you provided, well, things just started unraveling.”

“Kate.” He growls because he can’t manage anything else. He’s trying to keep himself still, heart pounding in his chest. Penny coos, like she notices the shift in her dad’s demeanor, and he immediately attends her, thumbing at a smear of applesauce on her cheek.

“I found a SANE exam from a few years ago. Small hospital in southern Colorado, right over the border from Texas. Patient’s name is Jane Doe, but the photos are almost an exact match.” His stomach lurches, dark clouds shadowing his vision, world splitting into blood and rage. Violence.

He didn’t want to be right.

He wanted to it to be anything, anything but this.

Who? 

Is it the same person that choked you? Beat you? Tore your shoulder damn near out of its socket? 

His gaze drifts to Penny.

They'll need to loop Price in, immediately. 

“Can you send it to me?”

“It’s already in your email.” She speeds past, eagerly. “There’s more. I used the photo to run facial recognition on archives in neighboring states and got a host of hits from Texas. You’ll have to visually confirm, but if I’m right, I’ve got positive ID on your girl.”

“How?”

“School. She graduated high school a year before the rest of her class, ended up with a full scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. Went on to get a bioscience degree and graduated from Rice early.” Pride flutters beneath his ribs, honeyed and heavy. Their smart girl. “She ends up at a different school for pre-med but drops out before the first year ends. Not sure what happened but she started an accelerated nursing program, and breezed through it. You should see her transcripts. I don’t think this girl has gotten less than an A+ on anything since kindergarten.”

“Send them over.”

“Already done. After that, she starts work at a local hospital, and then… nothing. Her paper trail stops. Her job disappears. She’s a ghost except for the sealed court records, and now the Jane Doe medical chart, but that didn’t happen until later. The aliases she’s used over the past few years, they’re in the wind. It’s really quite impressive. She’s either got a connection somewhere, or she’s CIA.” Kate is animated, talking quickly, and he interrupts her to get to the question that’s weighing on him, brushing off the latter immediately. You’re not a honeypot. He spots those a mile away.

“You know her name, then. Her birth name?”

“I do.” She’s silent for a moment, and then she gives it softly. First, middle and last.

He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine you as a girl, on the playground, playing tags with other kids, all of them shouting your name, or as a teenager, in a fight with a parent, one of them yelling your name. He pictures you as a uni student, with your friends, laughing and having a good time somewhere, one of them hollering your name over too loud music. You’ve had a whole life with that name, a whole story. You were a person with that name, and he tries to imagine the way it would sound on your tongue, on Johnny’s, even his.

You’re a ghost now, will you let them bring you into the light?

Will you let them help you reclaim it; the way Johnny helped him reclaim his own?

Kate subtly coughs on the other end of the line.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep digging. Check your email when you get a chance.”

“Will do.”

“Oh! And the hotel, I sent that paperwork to your email as well.” He thanks her, again, tells her to try to enjoy her time off and hangs up just as Penny starts to fidget, unhappy with being in the highchair for so long without attention.

“Alright, lamb. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pulls her free, showering kisses all over her cheeks and neck that make her giggle. “Can’t be wearin’ your applesauce and pajamas over to John and Lou’s, can you?”

Johnny is anxious. Simon can see it a mile away, even before he gets in the room, he notices how he is fidgets, unspent energy and too much time to dwell culminating in an unsettled state.

So, when he kisses him first thing, he makes it long and slow. He drags Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth, carefully taking his time until he’s sure his partner is half hard beneath his hospital gown and blanket.

“Si.” Johnny groans, and he relents, pulling away to cradle his face between his hands, taking him in, every line, every fleck of gold in his blue eyes, soaking up the healing, healthy glow that glimmers in his skin.

His doctor says it won’t be long now, until he can come home, and Simon is counting the days.

To have everyone, under one roof, feels like a fever dream.

“Missed you.” Johnny noses into his neck, and Simon reciprocates with a kiss to his temple, his cheek.

“Missed ye too.” He pauses, squeezing his hand. “Pen?”

“Alright. Grumpy this morning. Think she wanted to see you.” She did, he knows it, but he tries not to pile it on. Johnny knows their daughter misses him, as much as he misses her. They’re two peas in a pod, best friends, halves to a whole. They’re both suffering. “Went with Lou and John fine. I’ll bring her in the morning.”

“Good.” He nods, tilting his chin for another kiss, and Simon gives it without hesitation, basking in the warmth and familiar feel  of his skin.

When he clears his throat, he pulls away with a sigh. “How is she?”

“In pain. Shoulder is nearly torn out of the socket, and her neck is in poor shape. I had to help get her into bed, she couldn’t get her shirt off. Emotionally she’s… still got the walls up, but she let them slip for a second last night, before she let me help her. And I caught her crying in front of the fridge. Think the photos of Pen got to her somehow.” His stomach twists, new, horrifying possibility dawning on him. Do you have a child somewhere? 

“Did she get any sleep?”

“She hadn’t come down when I left to take Penny, so I assume so.”

“Good. She needs it.” Simon agrees. After injury, after trauma, body and mind need so much more care. More rest, more nutrients, water, protein. More love.

“Kate called.” He bites the bullet, fingers flexing against his knee. “She found a loose end and tugged it.” Johnny straightens. He’s every bit the solider, even laid up in bed. Waxy, soft features turn razor sharp and focused, except instead of his practiced steadiness, he’s chomping at the bit.

“Tell me.”

Simon does. He tells him everything Kate said, almost verbatim. Johnny’s face changes from worried to enraged when he finally gets to the medical chart.

“No.” Johnny’s whisper is faint, thin, papyrus. Brittle and broken, almost washed away, and Simon doesn’t blame him. The chart is horrific for them, was horrific for him earlier, turned his stomach until he thought he’d be sick.

He’s killed. He’s tortured. But to be there when Johnny revealed the handprinted tender skin on your neck, to be there when you cried out in pain last night, when he saw the scars on your body, the cigarette burns that were so familiar, to look at these photos and know that you’ve been brutalized beyond belief, makes his vision run red and his heart ache.

There’s a ghost in these photos. A different girl, but the same, a glimpse of what he saw last night. Still their bunny, their girl. He can see her, through the broken blood vessels and compound forearm fracture. He can see her past the swollen cheekbone and broken nose, the fresh burns on your stomach and torso. The doctor’s notes indicate that you said you were mugged, and sexually assaulted, but refused to finish the SANE exam and took off.

He's not surprised. 

The first time he saw the burns on your naked skin, he swore he could his mother’s screams, and for the hundredth time today, Simon thinks of her. He wonders, if she ever went to a hospital, if she ever begged anyone to help her, or them. He wonders if someone saw what was happening, how she was slowly disappearing, sinking in on herself, and tried to help. He wonders if she felt as alone as you seem to. If she too, became a ghost.

He looks at these photos and cannot fight the pain, the memories.

“Oh, Si.” Johnny cups his cheek, thumb soothing softly across his skin, trying to wipe away the tears that fall. He can’t stop them, not now, and Johnny does not ask, only holds him through it, lets him cry into his hands, pain and suffering of a small, frightened boy coming out of his body in broken sobs.

He won’t fail you. Not like he did her.

After minutes turn long, he takes a deep breath, pressing his lips to Johnny’s palm, and utters a promise as cold as death. 

“We’ll kill them. Whoever it is.”

[your-unfriendlyghost]

gangs’s height hcs lets gooo

Ponyboy: 5’4-5’5-ish in the book, eventually is 6’0 as an adult. Taller than Soda because of this scene in the TV show where they compare heights and Pony’s taller- it was funny lol

Sodapop: 5’10. Not that tall, but certainly not short either. About average. Wasn’t at all insecure about his height until Pony got taller…now he wears cowboy boots more often (for the heel)

Darry: 6’2. Not much to say here. It’s his canonical height lol

Johnny: 5’3, due to years of malnutrition and sleep deprivation. Would only end up growing to 5’4-ish in adulthood if he reached it.

Dally: 6’1. Pretty tall. In my heart and soul he’s 5’6 but I realize that that’s not true. Still

Two-Bit: 6’0- in the movie he’s 5’7, but idk he gives me tall vibes and he’s tall in the book anyway? I do flip flop on this one a lot tho so I draw him pretty inconsistently tbh

Steve: 5’7. I know he’s “tall and lean” in the book, but Tom Cruise is neither lol, and his version of Steve is the one that made me like Steve. So to me Steve’s always gonna be 5’7. Hell, he’s probably rounding up too. He seems like he would yk

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of childhood friend Simon

“You missed a spot.”

“Like hell I did.”

Simon’s eye twitches as you snort, turning back to your phone. “Some sniper you are, blind bastard.”

The silence stretches for one, two, three…..

“Where?” he sighs.

“Left side of your jaw.” You gesture at the spot just near where it curves, a few centimeters from the corner. He runs his thumb over the spot and finds a patch of stubble.

“Fuck.”

“‘Like hell I did’,” you mock.

He narrows his eyes, points threateningly. “Watch it or I’ll shave an eyebrow.”

You snort, unconcerned. “Remember that time I did shave my eyebrows?”

He smirks as he runs the razor over the bit he missed, double checks he got it, then rinses in the sink.

“Wasn’t it because of some stupid YouTube video?”

“Yes, and I still have nightmares about having to draw them in.”

He nearly snorts water everywhere trying not to laugh, quickly wiping his face off with the towel you hand him.

“Didn’t your mum start calling you caterpillar girl?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized.

“Simon Riley you swore you’d never bring that up again!”

He laughs outright as you chase him from the bathroom, whacking him in the arm. When he puts his hands up in mock surrender, you give him one last swat for good measure.

“Assaulting a military officer is illegal.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re legally dead, aren’t you? So wouldn’t that be desecrating a corpse?”

“I’ll have to ask Laswell.”

“Or we could ask Johnny. I bet he’ll know.”

The implication of Johnny knowing versus having an opinion is not something Simon’s equipped to parse before his first cuppa.

“Johnny’s just gonna side with you.”

You shrug - because it’s true. Johnny may be Simon’s (other) best friend, but he’s also a shithead that takes every opportunity to fuck with Ghost. And with you around “protecting” him, he’s been an absolute bastard.

“Then we’ll ask Gaz and John too,” you offer as you step into your shoes.

You’ve been lining them up next to his boots off to the side. The contrast of big, black leather next to your much smaller trainers would be almost comedic if it didn’t make his chest warm.

A reminder that you’re here with him, in a place he usually spends all his time wishing to see you. He’s called you countless times on the same bed you’ve been sharing for the past week. And now you’re wearing his official SAS hoodie (complete with his name on the back) and invading his wardrobe, about to go with him to breakfast in the mess.

Johnny, in a shocking twist, doesn’t think it’s desecrating a corpse to smack Simon.

“Well, he’s Ghost, aye? So it’d be exorcising him, no?”

Your eyes go all big as you turn to Simon with unholy delight. He makes a mental note to throw Johnny onto the mat once more than usual during their next spar.

That’ll have to wait though, because he’s promised you range time and then the obstacle course. Johnny tags along, interested to see your marksmanship when Simon’s talked it up so much.

He watches on, pride bright and hot in his chest, as you walk through all the steps he’s taught you. It’s even his favorite gun in your steady hands, fingers elegant as you load, chamber. Click the safety off and settle into your preferred stance.

The first two shots hit the target, though off to the side, the second closer to center than the first. You pause, take a breath before he even says anything. Then fire again. And again. And again. Until the mag is empty and he brings the paper target back.

A neat cluster of 15 holes, dead center.

“Atta girl,” he rasps, tugging you into his side and pressing a kiss against your hair.

“I did good?” you ask, beaming.

“Lass, even those first two would have been the end of some poor sod,” Johnny chimes in, patting your shoulder. “Guess the LT isn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

Simon narrows his eyes. “Was that even a question?”

Johnny shoves the ammo box at you. “A pint says you can’t do it again.”

“You’re on!”

—

The obstacle course is slightly less of a success.

“Oh, hey, Si,” you giggle, clinging onto the rope for dear life. “Ya come here often.”

He snorts. “Did you get stuck?”

“No!” You huff, scowling. “Im just… hanging around.”

He’s enjoyed watching you navigate the course - more importantly, he likes that you enjoy climbing around. Even if he’s had a small heart attack every time your foot slips or you wobble.

“Oi, you’re holding up traffic,” Gaz huffs, rapping his knuckles against your foot.

“Do you mind?” you call back. “Im telling Simon bad jokes.”

“Oh, by all means then.”

Simon snorts, jerks his head for you to continue. Johnny laughs as you shimmy along, laughs harder when you almost fall flipping him off.

Once you make it to the other side, Gaz climbs up after you and starts demonstrating how to do the next section. Simon and Johnny follow along, the latter cheering you on.

Movement from the corner of his eye draws his attention; Price, determined set to his shoulders. Simon recognizes the glint in his eye.

“Got ‘em?” Simon asks, hopeful.

Having you spend all day with him on base has been a subconscious fantasy come true. You, close by and safe, under 24/7 guard. But the circumstances have made his skin crawl, made it difficult to enjoy the novelty. Woken him up in the small hours of the night and hug you as close as he can without waking you.

“Fuckin’ got ‘em,” Price confirms. “Laswell’s got the docket prepped. All that’s left it briefing and prep. You can be wheels up in a few hours.”

Simon cracks his neck, anticipation sparking in his veins. His gaze slides to you, to his teammates helping you down from the wall. Price follows your gaze.

“You good for this one, Simon? Got your head on straight?”

Simon flicks him a look. “You know I’m good.”

“I know Ghost is good. What about Simon?”

He blinks, gaze going back to you. You can tell already even from a distance, by the set of his shoulders, that something is going on. You’re still relaxed, but there’s a questioning curve to your mouth as you stop at his side, fingers curling in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Something happened?” you ask.

“We found the group targeting you.”

“Oh!” You arch your eyebrows, eyes bouncing between him and Price. “You’ll be taking care of it, then?”

Simon turns back to Price, a silent “well?”.

“We’ll discuss strategies during the brief.”

You perk up. “Do I get to come?”

“Might as well,” Price sighs. “Let’s go.”

—

In the end, of course Simon is going to go. You’re his girl, always have been. He trusts his team, but when it comes to you, he’ll see this done right. And the only way to be sure, the only way to have peace, is for him to eliminate the threat himself.

Johnny’s coming along, of course. The slightest bit of tension in your shoulders eases when Price decides it. Simon presses his thigh into yours.

When the brief is done, strategies and timelines set, you follow him back to his barrack. He gears up while you sit on the bed, idly inspecting his vest while he straps into everything else.

“Nervous?” he asks.

You tilt your head back and forth considering. “Not more than usual before you leave. It seems like this is pretty standard for you, more or less. Why, should I be nervous?“

He snorts. That’s his girl. “No.”

You hum, picking at the Velcro of his SAS patch. He pauses, watches your face. You’re not anxious, but there’s… something.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks, chucking you gently under the chin.

“I…” you pause, hum. Try again. “I don’t like that you’re going out just because of me.”

He frowns, settles on the edge of his bed. You lean with the dip in the mattress, pressing warm and solid against his side.

“I feel like… like I messed up somehow, and now you have to fix it for me.”

He blows out a breath, yanking the mask off. You tilt your head to look at him, eyes soft, the tiniest frown on your face. He peels his glove off too, to cup your cheek. Revels in the warmth and smooth skin against his scars and callouses, always a little surprised when you lean into it.

“I’d get you world peace if you asked for it,” he replies.

“You’d be out of a job,” you half-joke.

“You are my job, daft thing.” He shakes his head, leans in until he can thunk his forehead gently against yours. “You’re what brought me back from the grave. Knew I still had work to do, that you still needed taking care of.”

You sniffle a bit. Always do when he digs up the words to remind you how much you mean to him. Not that he thinks you ever doubt it. How could you? But sometimes, he thinks, it bears repeating.

“You haven’t made a mess, luv. But even if you did, I’m always right here with a mop, yeah?”

He’d burn alive just to keep you warm. Drown to fetch you a glass of water. Anything, everything. Just so long as you’re still here, still his.

“I’ll take care of this and then come home to you. Due for a holiday anyway.”

You close your eyes, a faint little smile tilting your lips. He can’t look away. Never can.

“We can go on that camping trip you’ve been talking about,” you say.

“Yeah, luv. Toast marshmallows like the old days.”

You hum, a proper smile finally blooming across your face.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Promise you’ll come back. Both of you.”

“Promise. Be good for Price while I’m gone.”

You open your eyes, a mischievous sparkle in them. “We’ll see.”

—

You see him off on the tarmac, serene and assured. Stripped of faith and belief, there is one certainty in your life, always and forever. And it’s Simon. He’s going to come home to you, because he promised he would.

“Raise hell, Si.”

“Already raised the dead,” he muses, hell shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Aye, I’ve got just the C-for it.”

You groan at the joke, but don’t deny Johnny a parting hug and peck on the cheek. “Look out for each other.”

“Will do, hen.”

You don’t hug or kiss Simon. Don’t need to, you’ve said your goodbyes. You squeeze his hand and then step back as he heads for the plane with Johnny chattering all the way.

“Alright, little miss?” Price asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Always,” you reply, turning to smile at him.

You have to be, for Simon.

[storiesfromafan]

He's My Husband, I'm His Wife - Benny x Reader

A/N: Alright, I am back with a follow up to She's A Spitfire, after a comment from @redwitchbitch1 :) I have also got another 2 parts in mind, I may have dropped the names in my Master List haha.

I wrote this last night while watching The Crow and Beetlejucie, in anticipation of the new movies coming out in the next few weeks. I was also listening to Sabrina Carpenter's new album too while writing.

Warnings: a few swear words, sass, bitchyness and a bit of petty.

Six weeks. Forty-two days. One thousand and eight hours. That’s how long you’d known Benny before you became Mrs Cross. A whirl wind of a romance. Yet it felt completely right. From the bike ride after dealing with Troy, to Benny popping the question a few days ago while taking a ride just for the fun of it, and everything in-between. It’s like Benny was your drug of choice – and you his – and neither could get enough.

When you weren’t working at your hairdresser job, Benny was there, picking you up or taking you wherever you or he wanted. You’d go with him to Vandal meetings, drink and play pool at the bar, picnic’s. Even spend days in bed, wrapped around each other. How someone felt so right in such a short time was beyond you and him, but you both embraced it. Which is why Benny wanted to seal it with making an honest woman of you, his woman. Now and forever how long you’d have him.

Your wedding day had been something to see. Nothing fancy. You in a while baby doll dress that came to your knees, white go-go boots and a short white vail, just for laughs. Benny wore a button up shirt, jacket with his colors, black jeans and dirty boots. You didn’t need him to be in a suit or tux, for Benny looked good in anything, even better in nothing. It was a simple courthouse wedding, as many Vandals in attendance that the place could hold. But the main ones where up front; Johnny, Brucie, Cal, Corky, Wahoo, Danny – who didn’t miss a beat taking photo’s – etc. Along with their respected others too. You didn’t have anyone on your side, and you couldn’t care less.

“Do you Benjamin Cross” – there were snickers from most of the men upon hearing Benny’s full name, but he didn’t care – “take (Y/N) (L/N), to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?” the Minister asked.

Benny, holding your hands, looked you right in the eye, never wavering. “I do”.

The Minister then asked you; “do you (Y/N) (L/N) take Benjamin Cross to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?”

You looked into Benny’s eyes, not wavering either, as you held his hands firmly. “Oh, I do”.

Your groom smirked at how confident you were. He knew this was it, for the both of you. No one else. This was end game. Now and always. Plain and simple.

Next was rings, or rather a ring. You didn’t expect Benny to wear a ring, but you wanted one. A simple band would be enough for you, to show whomever that you were taken. Benny made sure to get you a band with a stone in it, he’d promised you something better later on but you told him that this band was enough, it was perfect, as it was from him. Before slipping the ring on your finger, he made sure to place a kiss upon that finger, a symbol of his affection. And then that band locked it into place.

With a few more words, which you both didn’t pay mind too, as all you were focused on was each other. Drinking in this moment. Savoring how you both felt joy, excitement and contentment. Only coming back when you may now kiss the bride was spoken by the Minister.

Without skipping a beat, Benny pulled you to him by your locked hands. One hand moving you cup your cheek before leaning down and claiming your lips in a firm, but loving kiss. The cheers from the Vandals gracing your ears, bringing a giddiness to you. As you pulled apart, you both chuckled at the men.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” declared the Minister.

With that, and a few legal formalities, Benny led you from the courthouse with you under his arm, while numerous Vandals patted him on the back. Outside the courthouse you all gathered around, with you and your husband in the center. There was talking, joking and lots of laughter. If you had a dollar for every time a Vandal called you Benny’s ball ‘n chain, you’d be sitting pretty, or have enough for a decent honey moon.

Eventually it was time to move on, the club deciding to take a long ride. Giving Benny a bright smile, your husband led you to his bike, that sported a few cans tied with string. He got onto the bike, kick starting it without a problem. Holding out his hand, Benny helped you get on the bike behind him. And waited patiently for you to tuck your dress under you, so it wouldn’t fly about or flash anyone. Once set, you wrapped your arms around your husbands waist, hands gripping the shirt over his firm stomach.

“All set wife?” Benny asked with amusement.

You moved up and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “I’m peachy, husband”.

With that, Benny pulled away from the curb, along with all other Vandals after. He held back so that Johnny could take the lead, and off you all went. With the wind in your hair, vail flying behind you, you threw your small bouquet without a care in the world. That was the start of the next chapter in your life. Only if you’d known a part from a past chapter was to come back in the future, you would have made sure to write it out.

A few weeks later...

It was a beautiful sunny day. And with such lovely weather; the Vandals, their significant others, your husband and you had showed up to a car show two towns over. You noticed the stares the Vandals got from those that didn’t ride, but chose cars. They didn’t look too pleased, but weren’t brave enough to say anything. Along with them were other biker clubs. They were more welcoming, as they understood the life of a motorcycle rider.

You were seated with a few of the other partners of Vandals, enjoying the sun with a drink. Talking about your significant others; the good, the bad and the ugly. You’d even talked about the small honey moon you and Benny took. It was just a weekend away, but it’s not like you’d left your room or anything. You both enjoyed your little wedded bubble. Taking every moment to say husband, wife and Mrs Cross. The last being Benny’s favorite. He loved you being his wife. He loved you. Just as much as you loved him.

You looked to your gorgeous husband, as he stood around with Corky, Wahoo and Danny. They were all talking, probably all bullshit of some level. Benny was smiling that melting smile of his, eyes shining with humor at whatever Danny said. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. And it all happened on a similar day to today. If you’d hadn’t put yourself on show, would your panty dropping, now husband have noticed you? You weren’t too sure. But oh so glad he had.

“Ain’t you over the honey moon faze yet!?” Laughed Betty, as she playfully slapped your arm.

You turned to look at her, with a bright smile. “Nope. Doubt I ever will with my husband. He really sparks my spark-plug”. You wiggled your eyebrows, the women around you laughing.

“Give it time, the novelty will wear out” she replied shaking her head.

You looked back to Benny. “Hmm, no chance of that happening”.

Sensing he was being watched, Benny looked around only to find your eyes locked on to him. A dreamy, yet confident smile upon those luscious lips he’s kissed and bit numerous times. Among other things those lips had done to him and his body. Just the thoughts that crossed Benny’s mind, had him wanting to drag you off and away from prying eyes. But he had to behave himself, even just for a while. A pleasant smirk graced his face as he shot you a wink. Which only made you smile bigger. Yes, Mrs Cross was everything he needed. After the club, of course.

How did he get so lucky? Benny didn’t know. But wasn’t going to question it. He took a stab in the dark when he spoke to you a few months ago. Nor did he expect something that seemed to be fun at the time, would lead to him being married and over the moon with you. He loved his spitfire wife. He loved the sass, and he loved the lack of filter you have. It had made the time with you the more fun. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

You got up from your spot, saying you had to use the restroom. Crossing the open grass area, you headed to the public restrooms. After a short wait, you finally relieved yourself before washing your hands. Just as you were about to head back you heard your name being called. The voice sounding familiar. Turning to your left you spotted the person; Pam.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” you said with a genuine smile. Beside all the drama the last time, Pam was the nicer of the three women you once socialized with.

“I was about to say the same” she laughed. You both briefly hugged.

“How ya been?” You asked.

Pam sigh. “Yeah, same old. How about you?”

By now you both began to walk the way you’d come. “A lot has happened” you replied, about to continue before spotting two more familiar faces; Dani and Becky.

Pam noticed where you were looking, her smile dropping and a look of unease cross her face. “Maybe we should move somewhere else” she said with worry. “They weren’t too happy after that day...”

Unfortunately you both were spotted by the two women. They looked unimpressed before striding over to you and Pam. They plastered on fake smiles. Greeting them, they replied, and you shared a quick awkward hug with them. Just because they seemed icy, didn’t mean you had to be. You made your choice, and it was the best thing ever. And you couldn’t wait to rub it in their faces.

“Wow, haven’t seen you in, what – ages?” Becky said like the mean girls from high school. “Who would have thought we’d run into each other!”

You held it together, stopping your eyes from rolling. “I know! I’ve been busy with Benny and work” you replied just like her. “We were bound to run into each other, I’d have just hoped it would have been years from now”.

Poor Pam, she looked so uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to back down to these two harpies. Looking back at the time with them, you could see how fake they had been with you. So now you were going to give them it back ten fold.

“Oh, so you’re still with the Vandal, huh?” Questioned Dani, crossing her arms and popping her hip. “Thought either you’d dump him or he’d have found another chick by now, of course the later more so”. She and Becky chuckled.

You gave them a bright smile. “Sorry to burst your bitch bubbles, but we’re still together. Even better then ever really”. The look that crossed your face was like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh? Whys that, huh?” Becky asked curiously.

Without missing a beat, you drew forward your hand that held your wedding band. “He was man enough to lock me down. And it’s been the best decision I’ve made”.

Shock crossed their faces, with a touch of envy. You stood taller, feeling absolutely wonderful at their reactions. You watched as they tried to process it all. Their mouths opening before closing. Ha, take those apples, you thought feeling elated.

“Congratulations!” Pam said genuinely happy for you.

That seemed to snap Dani and Becky out of their short circuited moment. They stood stiff, putting on a cool, uncaring look upon their face, though it was obviously far from how they were feeling.

“Let us guess, it was a shot gun wedding?” Becky said snidely. “He knocked you up, right?”

Dani laughed at her friends words, while Pam protested it all.

You laughed. “Oh no, he hasn’t knocked me up. But I’d gladly give that man a kid if he asked. But till then I am thoroughly lovin’ the practice”. You smirked when they shot you a dark look.

Dani scoffed. “Of course you enjoy being on your back, a whore does”.

“You’d know, right?” You retorted, earning a growl from the woman.

You thought Dani was about to go you, and would have welcomed it, even if it would have been two on one. You could have taken them, easily. But instead a man came up, wrapping his arms around Dani, face moving to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her hands automatically coming to rest over his.

“Mmm, I wondered where ya went” came another familiar voice. When they lifted their head, you were greeted to Troy. Dani smirked with satisfaction.

Oh how you wanted to laugh in her face. But decided against it. Let her think she’s got one up on you. It will make bringing her down all the more sweeter. Troy noticed the woman in his hands not paying him any mind, turning his head he was greeted to the sight of you. His face fell, a blank look upon his face.

“(Y/N)” was all he said. No hello or anything.

“Troy” you replied.

“I just ran into (Y/N), babe, and we’ve just been catchin’ up” Dani said coolly, leaning back into your ex.

You clicked your tongue. “Huh, see you’ve moved on. Hopefully poor Sam wasn’t too heartbroken by this” you mused, unfazed.

“He’s fine” Troy said, tightening his hold on Dani.

You nodded. “That’s good. He still part of your club?”

“No, he handed in his colors...a little after this” he said gesturing to them.

“Mhmm. Alright, guess he got rid of two lots of trash” you said offhandedly. That hit a nerve.

Troy glared at you. “What was that?”

Back with Benny; he had been sitting with Johnny and Zipco. All three in conversation when he had seen you walking with one of your old friends. You looked happy, having a good time catching up. But then it changed when the other two showed up. He continued to keep any eye on you while talking and drinking his beer.

He knew you would hold your own with those women, so he had nothing to worry about. It was when Johnny said his name, did he look at the Vandals leader.

“Huh?” He asked putting his beer bottle on his bike.

Johnny lifted his head in your direction, worry on his face. “Might want to go to your wife, she might need ya”.

Confused, Benny turned to be greeted with Troy holding one of the women facing you. The scene looked a little stiff and painful. Getting up from his bike Benny kept his eyes on Troy, more then anything because he didn’t trust the guy.

“Yeah, I’ll be over there. Thanks for the heads up” Benny said, before slowly making his way to you.

“We’ll keep an eye out, if ya need us we'll be there” called Johnny. Benny just nodded his head.

He kept his eyes trained on the scene before him. Watching how Troy reacted to you, and eventually he could hear the conversation, coming in as you called them trash. That was his girl. He smiled at that no filter of yours. But he would be there if you needed protecting. Benny would always step in and guard you.

“Oh, trash?” You asked tilting your head. “I wasn’t clear? Sorry. I was implying – it means strongly suggest the truth – that you and Dani were the trash, and Sam leaving, got rid of you both. Ya follow?”

Benny smirked, shaking his head.

Troy and Dani, flustered, tried to sputter out a comeback but failed. You smiled wider at this. Knowing it was best to join you, Benny stepped up to you, wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you close as he planted a kiss to your cheek. Recognizing your husband from his hold and smell, you chuckled at him.

“Benny!” You squealed, grabbing his hand that rested on your stomach.

“Hey baby” he said sweetly in your ear. “Found ya”.

You knew that meant he’d seen what’s going on. And was here in case you needed him. You turned to face him, looking into his baby blues, silently thanking him. Before leaning up and kissing his full lips.

“Yes, ya found me, hubby” you replied sweetly, left hand coming up to caress his cheek.

You didn’t see Troy’s face, but the shock in his voice when he spoke told you everything you needed to know. “What the fuck?! Hubby?!”

You turned your gaze from Benny, a look of fake confusion on your face. “Sorry?”

Troy scowled, as he released Dani and moved forward. “Hubby?!”

You looked to Benny and then back to Troy. “Oh!” You turned your body forward, extending your left hand to Troy.

He looked down at your hand, seeing the band on your ring finger. He looked confused, before realization washed over his stupid face. “What the fuck! What’s this!”

You smiled contently. “It’s a wedding band” you replied simply. “It means he’s my husband, I’m his wife”. You said it slowly and clearly. Only infuriating the man before you further.

“I get that! By why him!?” Troy said in a raised voice.

Looking to your husband, you gave him the brightest, warm smile while staring into his beautiful blue eyes. Benny returning your smile right back at you. “Isn’t it obvious? Benny’s perfect”.

Feeling prideful, Benny lent down and planted a loving, knee weakening kiss on your lips. That was him telling you he felt the same about you. He wasn’t one to always say what he was thinking or feeling, but happily showed you it. And right now he was, along with everyone else watching.

Pulling back, he saw that twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Here it comes, that unfiltered mouth of yours. You turned back to Troy, Dani and Becky, shoulders squared as you stared them down. Now to really hit them where it hurt.

“Beside, Benny’s the best ride I’ve had” you said matter-of-factly. “Both on his bike and off”.

That was it. That was the straw that broke the camels back. Troy made a move to go for you, thankfully Benny anticipated it. He managed to move you back and stepped in front of you. He grabbed at Troy’s jacket, as the other man grabbed Benny’s. The women moved back as both of them held onto the other and pushed, trying to push the other back or over onto the ground.

Dani and Becky were calling out for Troy, trying to get him to stop. You should do the same, but you knew it was pointless. Troy had made a move to put his hands on you. That triggered red in your husband. So now all he saw was red. And it wouldn’t go away till he was happy with Troy on the ground and bloody.

Benny removed a hand, only to swing his fist to Troy’s face. It made hard contact with his cheek, sending the males head to the side. Yet neither let go of the other. Once more Benny striked, making contact. This time Troy stepped back, grip going slack. Which was enough for Benny to push him and have Troy release his hold. From there Troy took swings at your husband, a couple making contact. It was back and forth with them. They scrapped around, Benny tackling the man to the ground.

They rolled around, going back and forth with blows. All the while the women screamed, more people noticing the pair and coming closer. Included were some of the Vandals; Johnny, Zipco and Cal standing front and center. They were keeping an eye on the pair ready to pry them apart if it got too much.

Finally Benny ended up on top of Troy. Hard blow after blow to his face. Blood – from Troy or your husband – covering the man on the ground. Benny looked wild, uncontrollable as he waled on your ex. Finally Johnny and Zipco pulled Benny from on top of Troy, taking pity on the guy, who had gone up against their friend. Benny struggled against the two, but with words from Johnny, a bit of a flash from the past, Benny began to settle. Breathing heavy he spat out some blood to the side, eyes still watching the man on the ground.

Dani rushed to Troy’s side, worry on her face as she touched his face. He groaned, telling you that he was still alive, unfortunately. You watched them and thought they deserved each other. One bad apple with another.

You moved to Benny’s side, both Johnny and Zipco releasing their friend when you came to him. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention to you. He was still trying to catch his breath when he shot you a bright, victorious smile. You smiled, shaking your head. This man, he was just as bad as you. You with your mouth, and him with his fists. The pair you made was crazy, but in a perfect way.

You grabbed your husbands arm and started to pull him back to his bike, but looked back to Pam. “Sorry about this Pam. It was nice to see ya. Maybe we could catch up for coffee, or a drink sometime?”

She looked at you in shock, before coming somewhat back to the present. “Ah, sure?”

You smiled at her and said you would. From there you led your brave husband, followed by Vandals, back to your spot. You had Benny rest against his bike while you fetched some water, cloth and something to wrap his hands with. Once back with supplies, you cleaned and wrapped his hands, knuckles split from the beating he’d given. From there you moved to clean his beautiful face, which was starting to discolor. Meaning he’d had a fee shiners for a while. Nothing new really. What were a few shiners and some blood? Nothing new to you.

You were mindful when cleaning his split lip, hands gentle when wiping and applying pressure. While you worked away, Benny watched you closely. He wondered if you might be upset with him to some extent. He knew, you knew that he’d step in if needed. But he wasn’t sure if you were fine that he beat the shit out of your ex. On some level you might have still cared for the guy.

You cupped Benny’s cheeks with your hands, eyes moving to look into his deeply, searching. “Ya alright baby?” You asked softly, just between you both.

That brought him back. “Yeah, I am baby”.

You smiled softly at him, planting a soft kiss to his lips, being careful of the cut. “You sure? You looked deep in thought”.

Benny slowly nodded. “Just...you ain’t mad with me, are ya? For how far I took if with your ex?”

You looked at him, eyes blinking a few times. “No Benny, why would I? You stepped in to protect me, baby. I’m more proud then anythin’”. You smiled brightly, lovingly at your husband.

Benny sighed, a relieved smile washing over his lips. “Good. I was worried you’d be mad. As ya got history with the guy-”

You cut him off. “That’s just it, history. It’s in the past. You are my present and future. I’m your wife, wholeheartedly”.

Benny pulled you to him, hugging you closely, face resting in the crook of your neck. How could you know what to say to make him so happy? You giggled wrapping your arms around your man, holding him tightly. Knowing he needed reassurance you were his, and no one else’s. And you always would be.

You ran your hand through the hair at the base of his neck. “You’re stuck with me Mr Cross, no getting’ rid of me now”.

Benny chuckled, it tickling your skin, before pulling back and staring deeply into your eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mrs Cross”.

He then lent in and kissed you. It was hard, loving and toe curling. And when he deepened it, tongue entering your mouth and dancing with your own, you were a puddle in his arms. The small noises he elected from you was driving him crazy. Finally drawing back for air, Benny rested his forehead against yours. You stared at each other, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. History repeats itself, and you still had Benny there for you. And always will.

“Let’s head home spitfire. I think I need some tender, love and care” Benny whispered huskily in your ear.

You smiled. “Oh, I can do that for you, baby. Anything for my wild, crazy husband”.

A/N: I am still working on my Benny x Tomboy!Reader, I haven't forgotten. Or Cal x Sweet!Reader.

[johnnie-guilberts-eyeliner]

Pls I love this idea sm thank you anon!

[I probably won't be answering asks in order, I'll most likely just do them as the ideas come to me, but I'll try to get them all done!]

Johnnie X Fem!reader (she/her pronouns used) (and jake and tara are still dating here!)

Context you and johnnie have been dating a little over two years. You live w him and Jake webber.

Today you wake up in your shared bed with johnnie, him still sleeping. You turn over and watch him sleep peacefully, not trying to be creepy. He's just genuinely so beautiful in his sleep and he looks so peaceful. You tuck a strand of his hair behind his pierced up ear and kiss him. This wakes him and he kisses back sweetly and passionately. "Good morning sweetheart" you greet him as he groggily tells you "good morning y/n" before smiling at you and kissing you again. Just then your closest friend in LA, tara yummy (also a fellow youtuber) Burst through the door yelling "ITS NEW YEARS EVE BITCHES, WERE GOING TO A PARTY AND YOU WHORES NEED TO GET READY" she laugh yells at johnnie and you before blowing yall a kiss and leaving the room to get yourself ready. Leaving you and johnnie to laugh for a moment before getting up and starting to get ready. You decide on matching outfits. Johnnie is wearing a white dress shirt, his pinned black leather jacket, black pants with white designs, leather boots and chain for his pants and his normal black eyeliner and eyeshadow. You are wearing a cropped white band shirt, with a short black leather skirt w a chain, fishnets, heeled leather boots, and a black leather jacket with studs and spikes on it. You both have your normal rings and other jewelry on. You straightened your hair and curled a couple pieces before doing your normal makeup/eyeliner with glitter. You snap a picture of your matching new years outfits and post it to your Instagram story. You both walk out of your shared room to find jake and tara ready to go and sitting on the couch. "OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS LOOK SO GOOD AAAH IM OBSESSED" tara squeals as she snaps a picture of you two sends it to you. You laugh before telling her "thank you boo, you look mighty fine today as well i should add" you look at tara as she does a little spin and laughs. Jake watched the interaction and says to johnnie "what's the point of having girlfriends if they just flirt w each other" they both laugh before starting to walk out the door. The girls following suite. Jake's driving, Tara's in the passenger seat with you behind her and johnnie behind jake. "So who's hosting the party this year" you ask jake as he drives. "Sam and colbys this year, since we went to kian and jcs last year" jake says keeping his eyes on the road, then hooking his phone up to the aux and playing a random playlist.

*timeskip a while later*

Everyone is enjoying themselves at the party drinking, smoking, vaping and generally just vibing. Johnnie is by your side the whole night with his fingers intertwined into your fishnets and a drink in the other hand. You and johnnie get many comments and compliments on your matching outfits which makes your heart flutter.

*another timeskip*

Your now sitting on the couch with johnnie next to you. Your leg swung over his, one of his hands on your thigh and the other holding his jack and coke. You take your hand and pull his face to meet yours, pecking his lips. He responded by pecking yours again. Just then you get a text message notification from tara and it's a picture of you and johnnie, literally 2 second ago, kissing. You look up from where you are and see her smiling directly at you two before flashing a thumbs up and continuing doing what she was doing.

As midnight approaches you and johnnie observe everyone getting drunker and drunker, like jake and Kian are currently fighting over a cupcake. Couldn't explain how or why that's happening but it is. You watch the time and see that it's 5 minutes away from midnight. Everyone gathers in the living room with their drinks and/or smoking / vaping device and start counting down. By this Point you and johnnie are now stood up, side by side, hand in hand in the crowd of people.

"5..." they start counting down

"4..." as each second goes by johnnie inches closer to you, his drank sat down somewhere he'll probably forget.

"3..." his arms creep up your thighs to sit comfortably on your waist and he holds eye contact with you

"2...." his gaze is so intense as you snake your hand to hold his face and the other to lay comfortably on his shoulder

"1..." you kiss each other with such passion and love as the countdown ends and all the drunk and high people are cheering and throwing confetti and glitter everywhere. You and johnnie stay kissing for a while longer than you intended. Allowing tara to snap yet other picture of you two, sending it to you again.

After the countdown, people almost immediately start leaving and piling into their cars and ubers. You took Jake's keys hours ago because he's way to drunk to drive and so is tara. Johnnie helps lead the drunk jake out the door and to the backseat of his car, a drunken tara following who is just mumbling and rambling on sits next to jake in the back, laying on his shoulder when she gets in. Johnnie then joins you up front in the passenger seat, pecking your lips before buckling his seat belt.

*yet another timeskip. Youre now at you, Jake's, and Johnnie's. *

You decided tara is spending the night bc she's too drunk to function on her own. After taking care of the drunk couple and making sure they get to bed, you and johnnie resign to your shared room where you both quickly change clothes and crawl into bed together. You laying on Johnnie's chest.

"Happy new year my love" you tell him as you kiss him "happy new year pretty girl" he responds before kissing you again and cuddling into you. This is the way you both end up falling asleep. Which you couldn't be more happy about.

(Lmk if you enjoyed and happy new year everyone!)

[hearts4golbach]

Hii could you please write a Johnnie Guilbert x fem reader where they meet at a club and just get along really well then Johnnie takes the reader home and they cuddle.

At First Sight.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Singer!Reader.

a/n: wrote this while watching fellas big titty minecraft mod stream. i hope that says a lot about my persona.

"it's okay, y/n. just shake it out. ready?" your lead guitarist whispered to you. you nodded, proceeding to follow his lead. you shook out all your limbs, counting down from 5, to 4, to 3, to 2, and ending with one.

he looked at you and raised his eyebrow. "alright, let's do this."

you and your band had finally made it out of the garage. you were playing in downtown LA at a bar/club. you took one final deep breath before walking out onto the stage.

those who were sitting and watching clapped, cheering for every one of you as you strutted to your designated spots. "how's everybody doing tonight?" you questioned as the applause subsided. some people cheered, while others shouted a response. "that's good to hear! we're a local band called (band name), and we're so happy to be performing for you tonight! our first song is called (song name). i wrote this song whenever i was going through a really rough time, and it got me through that dark place. i hope you all like it!" i started to get insecure, feeling as if i was talking too much.

you made it through your first song easily, as if you had done this a million times before. you looked through the crowd, making sure to take in the sincere looks on everyone's face. one person caught your eye. he was sitting with two people, a man and a woman. he had raven colored hair that was parted to the side. he had smudged eyeshadow and eyeliner that accentuated his bright blue eyes. he gave you a small wave. you felt your face heat up as you shot him a smile and a wave. you thought he noticed you were staring. you couldn't help but keep glancing at him.

you ended the song, causing the growing crowd to erupt in applause. the guy cheered for you as well, whistling and clapping a little louder than everyone else. everyone in your band stood up and took a bow, knowing each group performing tonight could only perform one song. you waved goodbye to everyone before walking off of stage, followed by the rest of your band.

"holy shit, y/n! i dare say that was better than we've ever done during our garage concerts!" your drummer hugged you tight. you squeezed her back, thanking her endlessly.

"how are you guys feeling? our first real concert?! i'm so proud of you guys." you congratulated everyone as you all began to pack up. you were tired and ready for a drink. you and the gang had spent all day rehearsing this one song so there wouldn't be room for mistakes. it was worth it, but damn.

you packed your microphone up and brought it out to the van. you said goodnight to all of the members, since they decided to just go home instead of staying. you weren't planning on staying long, though. you were planning on calling an uber after a few drinks.

deep down, you were hoping that cute boy from the audience would come find you. you walked out from backstage, heading straight towards the bar. you ordered your usual, jack and coke. you sipped on it while watching other performers from the bar.

"hey, i really liked the performance." a kind, deep voice called from the left side of you.

you turned to come face to face with the guy that hadn't left your mind. now, you could make out his piercings and tattoos that you couldn't see through the bright headlights. you took in every inch of him from his shoes to the very top of his teased hair. he was wearing black boots with casual ripped, black skinny jeans. he also wore a my chemical romance shirt with a leopard print leather jacket over top. you thought all of his visible tattoos were cute, and wanted to see more. he looked like someone that wouldn't be caught dead without jewelry. he had red and black eye shadow smudged all over his eye, as well as squiggles trailing down to his cheek.

"hi, thank you so much. that was our very first live performance. i'm glad you liked it." you over explained, your only goal being to talk to him more.

"really? damn, you're a fucking natural." he smiled, climbing into the seat next to you and ordered. "can i have another long island and one of what she's having?"

the bartender nodded before turning away to make the drinks. "i try," you laughed, "to be fair, we've been working on that one song all damn day." you finished off your drink and set it on the counter. "by the way, i'm y/n."

the man shook your hand, "Im Johnnie. it's really nice to meet you." it felt as if sparks were flying whenever the two of you touched.

you smiled, "it's nice to meet you, too." Johnnie set your drink in front of you. "oh, thank you."

"you said you wrote that song whenever you were having a rough time?" he took a sip of his drink, looking at you over the glass. you nodded. "those lyrics were fucking great, i really like the way you think about shit. or, at least from what i've head." he back tracked.

you were taken aback from the compliment. your face flushed. "wow, i don't know what to say. thank you." you couldn't help but smile at him. you pointed at his shirt, "you know, MCR is one of my biggest inspirations."

his grin grew, "no shit, me too."

"you make music?!" your smile grows as well. you begin to like Johnnie the more you learn about him. he nodded in response. you quickly pulled out your phone and opened up spotify. "can i see?"

"of course." he smiled, taking the phone out of your hand and typing in 'Johnnie Guilbert.'

your jaw dropped as you noticed how many followers he had. "holy shit, you're huge." he blushed, not knowing how to respond. "i'll definitely be checking your shit out whenever i get the chance."

"that means a lot coming from someone someone talented as fuck." he patted your knee, sending chills down your spine.

"oh, shut up. as if you're not? look at you!" you pointed at his followers again.

"fair enough," he gave in. "maybe we should write a song together." he finished off the last of his drink before ordering another.

your jaw dropped, "that's the best idea i've ever heard."

"can i get your number?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to overstep.

you rolled your eyes. "obviously," you took his phone and entered your number, setting up your contact before texting yourself. "there. i noticed you in the crowd, where are the people you were sitting with?"

"they're out in the floor dancing or something, i told them i was going to try and find you." he shoved his phone in his pocket before glancing over to the dance floor.

"oh, okay. can i ask you a question?" you sip your drink.

"anything."

"why were you looking for me?" you were simply curious. but, you wondered if he had a deeper interest in you as you did him.

"i thought you were gorgeous. you just seemed like my kind of girl." he sighed, his drink was almost gone at this point. "honestly, i'm the most fucking anti social person you'll ever meet. i felt like if i didn't come talk to you i'd be making a huge mistake, so i kind of pushed myself out of that box." your heart melted, and it showed on your face. "what?" he laughed.

"i can just tell you're such an amazing fucking person. you really know how to talk to me, even though you claim to be an introvert." you tease, rubbing his arm.

the blush on his face grew darker. "i'm getting tired. I'm thinking about ordering an uber home." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finishing his thought. "do you wanna come with?"

you agreed without hesitation. the alcohol was clearly getting to both of you, but neither of you cared. he carefully intertwined his fingers with yours. it was far from awkward between you and Johnnie. you stood outside with him, the warm summer breeze refreshing compared to the stuffy club.

"there's this ukulele i've had for as long as i can remember. i've been writing songs on it also for as long as i can remember. music has been my passion my whole life." you rambled because Johnnie wanted to listen. "i've always dreamt of being up on stage, and now i'm finally climbing my way up."

"damn, i'm really proud of you, y/n. i know it's a huge step to be performing in front of strangers." Johnnie lit a cigarette, hitting it once before offering it to me. "do you smoke?"

"mhm," you hummed, taking the cig with your free hand. you took a long drag, staring off into the distance as you exhaled a large cloud of smoke. the nicotine buzz hit you, increasing the feeling of the alcohol in your system. "i know, i couldn't have gotten to where i am now without my best friends. the people in my band are the ones who really motivated me to actually get out there, you know?" he nodded.

the uber pulled up less than 30 seconds later. you crawled in the back with Johnnie. he gave his address to the driver. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the drowsiness wanting to take over. "do you think this is weird?" he giggled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"do i think what's weird?" you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

"that we met less than an hour ago and.." he gestured down towards me. "i don't know. i don't think it's weird." he began to back himself up.

"i think i've heard weirder happen. i already really like you, and we've just met. i don't find that weird." you comforted him, caressing his arm gently.

he leaned his head on top of yours, "I'm glad, cause me too. I'm glad this isn't one sided."

you blinked and suddenly the uber driver was parked right outside of Johnnies house. unsurprisingly, it was an extremely nice home. Johnnie gently shook your shoulder, informing you you were at his house. he helped you climb out of the car before leading you up to the front door.

"your house is so fucking nice." you mention as you wait for him to let you inside.

"thank you, i have 2 roommates, so this isn't just my house." he admitted, opening the front door. "do you need anything to drink?" he was beginning to noticeably slur his words.

"no, i'm okay. thank you. i'm just ready to sleep, to be honest." you rubbed your eye as you leaned against the counter.

Johnnie grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge and cracked it open. "well, i'm glad we're on the same page." he chugged the water before leading you up to his room.

his room was fairly empty. there was a closet, but the door was closed. he had a computer set up on one side of the room and a neatly made bed on the other. the window was covered by dark black curtains and the desk was covered in makeup. he had a few stray cameras laying around on a side table, as well.

"i take it you do more than just make music." you mention, taking a seat next to Johnnie on his bed.

"uh, yeah," he scratched his neck, "i do youtube, too. and stream. i do it all, really."

"somebody seems busy as fuck," you yawned.

he let a small smile show on his face, "maybe a little. are you staying the night with me." you nodded in response, making sure he wanted you to, as well. "good. do you want something to change into, your concert outfit doesn't look very comfy."

before you could deny or accept, he was tossing you pajama pants and a t shirt out of his closet. you thanked him. "you are one of the sweetest people i've ever met, do you know that?"

"i think it's just the alcohol talking," he laughed, changing into pajama pants himself. you shook your head vigorously.

he laid down, not taking his time before pulling you up close to him. you took in the new scents on johnnies skin, making sure to take a mental note of every one of them. you buried your head in his chest as you draped your arm over him. he had one arm a wrapped around your back while the other hand was running through your hair. you quickly let yourself fall asleep. Johnnie comforted you in a way no one ever had before. you began to think you could get used to Johnnie being around.

[shotmrmiller]

Okay but, this is fun! (When I was a server? I wore short skirts, stockings and heeled boots. They let me wear them, I had no joy in my life. So? I dressed up my uniform to make myself happy at the sacrifice of my feet at the end of shift.) I don’t miss it but, I had fun as a server.

Running up to the bar and whispering to Johnny to ‘look at table 4’ because the lady sitting there is recovering from a bbl and has bandages *holding* her butt up. (True story)

Any bit of gossip, you beeline back and Simon’s already waiting like ‘wots happenin’ now?’

Making faces at Johnny as you take someone’s order to show you’re displeased.

Whining to Simon ‘it’s that guy who sends everything back to get it comped again!’ When he hears someone sent the wings back… *again*

Snickering openly as Johnny is stuck with 2 horny old ladies at the bar and making faces at him when the customers aren’t looking to mock him.

Standing with Johnny at the bar and quietly conversing. “Nae way, that’s her father’ ‘I’m telling you! Crusty dusty with his side dish!’

Quickly squeaking behind Simon when shit looks like it’s going to get real in a few seconds. ‘Oh, that local crack head is back- Simon! Great to see you!’ *quickly scoots behind him* and just like- ‘hi!’ And peaking around him like he’s a s.w.a.t shield

Having to shoo Johnny away from the food Simon made you- ‘yea left it unattended!’ ‘This is the only food I’ve had in the past 6 hours! Simon! He’s eating my food!’ ‘She lies!’

Going to Simon with puppy dog eyes when you can’t open a jar-

Johnny plonking his butt down in the booth you’re rolling silverware in and not leaving even when you try and shoo him away to tend to the bar- the boss is glaring at me! He’s getting mad at me! Move your butt before I get in trouble because of you!’

Price being the manager that lets you get away with murder. If it makes you happy? He’ll turn a blind eye as long as you do your job. That goes for the other two knuckle heads… with you around? Johnny’s not fucking the customer base as often, leaving less upset girls coming in and making scenes when he inevitably doesn’t call them back. And Simon is fighting less, taking less smoke breaks (saving them for later) and making more orders properly (so you don’t get flack for it) so, he’ll turn a blind eye to what they’re doing to you… not that he isn’t doing it himself.

Trauma bonding from the shit job makes you real close that it kind of- makes you ignore when they get too handsy? ‘They’re still the guys, it’s fine’

(Bistro Huddy is so accurate it’s painful…)

(Dubious *not really* consent: Being trapped in the out of the way supply closet in the far back where no one goes. Your shift ended an hour ago but, you’re stuck; bent over an old chair stored there. Price zips up his pants- before you can stand back up again Simon’s stepping in where Price is stepping out and pushing you to bend back over the chair again. -Johnny running in for a quickie whenever he can- By the time the guys close up? You’re sore, gaping, leaking, overstimulated, and sniffling. And they’re all drawing straws who get’s to take you home and ‘take care of you’ so you’ll show up to your shift tomorrow.…I can’t do nsfw to save my life… I’m sorry, lol)

(Thought of this at the end but, Server Gaz?)

I WANT YOU TO KNOW

YOU WRETCH (affectionate, oh so affectionate i could kiss you)

THAT THE LAST BIT

OHHH MAN IM SCRREAMINGGGGUH

chile. having to give your receipts and the 3% you owe to price always ends up with his spend soaking your knickers :/ he prob knows your body better than you do, clever fingers making you peak before he does because yall (he) doesn't have the luxury of time on yalls (his) side. (not the other servers banging on the door because theyre just trying to go home)

imagine running to kyle because he seems to be the only sane one. you tried to eat lunch with him that one time in the back but it ended up with you cockwarming him as you attempted to pathetically eat your burger. (he hadn't even touched you and you'd come twice. poor you, so pent up from the week's frustrations. wait til simon hears about this.)

johnny doesn't hear about it but feels it once he finds you in the corner booth no one uses except the waiters who close, tiredly doing the silverware. his hands make quick work of your apron and the button on your jeans, pads of his fingers lightly catching your clit and dipping into your entrance but surprise surprise. wet. slick.

he mutters in your ear if it was price or simon that's left a mess behind but kyle's sitting a couple tables down from you counting his tips. that'd be me, sorry.

he's not sorry.

simon would be the type to scoop up his seed with his thick fingers and stuff it back into your used cunt talkin bout take that with you like it's a box to go lmao

[iliketangerines]

Dude, I LOVE how you write, like, A LOT. I have this request where it’s basically how the kombat boys(Liu kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi, Kenshi, Johnny, Syzoth and maybe Geras and Ashrah too?) would react to seeing the reader(their girlfriend)’s like variant in another timeline(?) in the end in a mk9 outfit(revealing as shit dude. They probably have to fix a wedgie mid-fight😭) SORRY IF THAT’S A LOT I’M ACTUALLY EMBARRASSED LMAO

revealing thoughts

a/n: lol no need to be embarrassed truly, don't worry about it

pairing: raiden x gn!reader

warnings: nudity mentions

Raiden always had considered himself a rather progressive man, not really caring whether the people in his village wore something deemed inappropriate by the elders

he was always respectful, treated everyone the same regardless of how they dressed or how they looked or what their occupation was

but this had Raiden averting his eyes to quite literally anything else except the massive window on your chest of your costume

which somehow was worse, his eyes trailing downwards to your barely covered crotch and the side of your costume cut out to reveal your hips, only the criss cross of string keeping it stuck to your body

Raiden resists using his hand to drag over his face as he prepares to fight against this variant of you, and his eyes trail back up to your face

which is the worst decision because as always, you look ravishing, especially so covered in blood and smiling at Raiden with those sweet lips of yours

someone bumps into Raiden from behind, and he grunts and quickly glances behind him and spots you, this timeline’s you, and you growl as you leap back forward to dismember a copy of Kenshi limb from limb

focusing back on this variat of you, Raiden barely manages to dodge your attack, weapon extended and aimed to kill, and he rolls to the side as you turn around, teeth bared in anger

you crouch down, giving him a perfect view down your cleavage, and he swears he sees a nipple slip when you leap forward, the strings keeping the window on your clothing barely holding on to the thin cloth

instinctively, he reaches his hands up to cover his face before he remembered you were there to kill him and his timeline

Raiden manages to drop his hands just in time to catch your attack and shoot a bolt of lightning through your palms through your nervous system

you rip yourself away from him with a howl of pain, voice so painfully similar to yours, and he bites his tongue to keep himself from apologizing to this variant of you

one more time, you lunge toward him, ready to kill, and Raiden moves to the side, preparing a flurry of lightning to hit you

and it connects, sending you flying to the floor, the straps of your costume disintegrating, and when you stand up, the remains of it fall to the side, only leaving you in your arm-length gloves and thigh high boots

you’re not wearing a single thing underneath, everything that he had only seen in bed waving to the world hello, and Raiden covers his eyes, face flushes bright red and burning as thoughts rush through his head

he cannot believe he just did that to you, and he apologizes to you profusely, still avoiding looking at your general direction, mind scrambled into a million different directions

was this cheating? if he looked at someone else naked? it technically was you, but it was a variant of you so technically it was a separate person? wait, wasn’t he battling you?

it’s too late, you sink your weapon into his side, and Raiden groans, thoughts of your nudity flying from his mind as he grits his teeth and grabs onto whatever skin he could and summoning the strongest lightning bolt into his hands

thunderclouds gather in the sky, angry and black, and bright light shoots down from the sky, ringing through your body and burning you into a charred crisp

Raiden’s chest heaves as he looks at your burnt and blacked body, nothing more than charcoal now, and someone grabs onto his shoulder

he whips around, hands raised and crackling with energy,  and he finds you, his actual you, his partner that he loved so dearly, and he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of you mostly unharmed

you glance down at his injury, brows furrowed in worry, and he waves it off, saying that it wasn’t too deep and that it would heal easily

Raiden gives you what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile and not a grimace of pain, and you raise an eyebrow at him and shake your head at him

but the disappointment doesn’t last long as you give him a cheeky smile and ask if he really couldn’t keep his thoughts clean even in the heat of battle

the champion stutters and flushes, pursing his lips at you as you laugh and lightly punch him in the shoulder, saying that you were just teasing him

you lean in slightly, just enough so that your breath brushes against his ear, and you say that next time you’ll keep that costume in mind the next time the two of you get in bed

Raiden goes to refuse, to say that he wasn’t at all distracted by the costume, but you’ve already bounded off to find a medic to help mend his side wound

the evidence if how he thought of your costume is written all over his face, and Raiden would be a fool to think you wouldn’t pick up on his embarrassment

truly, you would be the death of him

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 8 ⬅ch.7

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. alcohol. nsfw. wc 4.8k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | had the pleasure of writing this chapter... also the fic is at 27k words already! whoo, this is officially my longest fic.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“we’re all meetin’ down at the local pub, if you’d care t’join,” soap said, leaning against the doorway of the infirmary with his arms crossed over his chest. 

you looked up from your clipboard and raised a brow. “oh, yeah?”

“yeah. the men could use a load off.”

he was right. it had been a tense week at base as the men worked on tracking down hassan and going out on missions but turning up with no luck. it was frustrating and tiring. you could see it in their drained faces. 

the infirmary was empty for the night, no one having any substantial injuries that required overnight care, so you figured it’d be alright to go with them.

“yeah, okay,” you said, nodding your head in agreement.

“sweet!” soap’s reply made you smile. he always made you feel wanted. 

something in you yearned to ask if ghost was going to be there, but that would just raise alarms. and as daft as johnny could be, you didn’t want to risk him finding out about your little… crush . ghost’s words rang in your head and you quickly abandoned that thought process, a flush rising on your face and chest.

you stood in your room feeling like an imposter. you glanced at yourself in the mirror and debated multiple times on removing your dress, but you really had nothing else nice to wear. 

all you had in your wardrobe was workout wear and your uniform. you just never found yourself needing much more than that. you mentioned your lack of a wardrobe to your friend in the infirmary and she immediately offered her assistance. “i have the cutest little dress you can wear! i think you’re my size…” she said as she looked between the two of you. 

you felt your face warm. “a dress? oh, i don’t know,” you said with a nervous laugh. “don’t you think that will be a bit much for a bar?”

“no! we’re always in these drab clothes,” – she gestured between the two of you – “it will feel good to put on something feminine for once. trust me.”

“oh, are you saying i don’t look feminine?” you teased, gesturing to your outfit which was a dark shirt, cargo pants, and boots. 

she rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, ready to head back to her room. “shut up and follow me.”

now you were standing alone in your room and rethinking everything. the dress was simple: black, just short enough, and flattered your figure. but you still felt odd in it. after seeing yourself in your uniform for so long, this felt completely out of the ordinary. 

you played with the hem and debated changing. but what would you change into? sweatpants? 

you made a note to get some casual wear – jeans, a simple top, a sweater maybe – just things to wear on your off days. 

before you could talk yourself out of it more, you slid on the flats your friend has also let you borrow and you fumbled out of your room. 

it was nice enough out, and the bar was pretty close, so you decided to walk, your friend beside you. “you look hot,” she said. a smile was dragged out of you, not used to such compliments. she sported a similar outfit: a shorter dress, simple shoes, her hair down in waves. 

she hooked her arm around yours and you both giggled. maybe it would be nice to feel normal for a bit. to go out like most women your age do on the weekends.

you wondered if johnny and the others were already there. maybe you should have told him to wait for you so you could go together. 

you pushed your hair out of your face as the wind blew and looked up at the stars. it was such a beautiful night. you deserved this . you deserved to have a little fun. 

and you knew the men did this rather often. but that was before you had become friends with johnny and slowly with the others as well. now you were officially invited to things like this and it made your chest flutter with acceptance. 

the bar was a bit grungier than you expected, its windows blacked out, the sign light flickering, a group of motorcyclists outside smoking. your friend looked the men outside up and down, intrigued, and you heard them whistle back at her. “let's go,” you said, pulling her along with you.

you both pushed your way inside and were greeted with the smell of sweat, alcohol, too much cologne, and burning wood. the bar was dimly lit and there was already a crowd of people inside. 

you felt nervous as you scanned the room for someone you knew. you spotted soap and gaz in the corner and you smiled. your friend slipped away from you, seeing her friends at the bar, but not before making sure you were okay. you nodded to her then made your way towards soap. 

“soap!” you said cheerfully, making the man spin to face you. 

his face lit up, looking you up and down. “you clean up nice.”

“wish I could say the same,” you laughed. he gave you a cheeky grin in return.

your growing smile faltered when you saw a looming figure behind soap at the table. ghost . 

shit. shit. shit .

you could feel his eyes on you and you shifted uncomfortably on the heels of your feet. 

soap noticed your empty hand. “let me get you a drink,” he said over the noise and slipped off to the bar. 

you awkwardly turned to the table and greeted gaz who was talking with a few other men you recognized but couldn’t remember their names. 

you couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering over to where ghost was sitting he wore a black hoodie that he had pulled over his head, his balaclava mask, and dark jeans and boots. his hands rested on the table and he was still staring at you. 

letting him win, you turned away. why did things have to be so weird between you two? were you the one making things uncomfortable?

before you could wallow in your thoughts, soap appeared beside you again and handed you a beer. 

“i’m not supposed to take drinks from strange men,” you teased. 

“ha. ha. very funny, lass.”

you nudged him in the shoulder.

“hey,” a voice said beside you. you looked up and saw commander graves approaching your table. “fuck,” he said, taking you in. “i didn’t recognize you. you look great,” he complimented. 

you thanked him a bit awkwardly. soap reached over you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders protectively. “i don’t like the way you’re lookin’ at her,” johnny said towards graves. 

graves laughed, raising his hands in surrender. you rolled your eyes at the nonsense of these two men. “i can do my own bidding,” you said up to soap. 

“you heard her, she can turn me down herself,” graves teased. 

you smiled, all three of you laughing, however, your smile broke when ghost got up and left the table. 

“what’s his problem?” you asked soap, trying to sound casual, taking a sip of the cold beer. 

“honestly, m’not sure. he’s been like this all week.”

you nodded, wanting to pry more, but that would be a bit conspicuous, so you just drank your beer and fell into conversation with the men around you.

three beers and three shots later, you were slurring your words slightly as you argued with the table about how you had the ability to multiply any set of numbers in your head. 

“you’ve got a calculator under there,” gaz said, referring to your hands conveniently placed under the table. 

you held your hands up, “go ahead. ask me another.”

soap laughed and spewed off a random combination of numbers, “four hundred eighty-six, times three thousand five hundred and seven.” gaz quickly punched the numbers into his phone's calculator.

you took a moment, the gears in your head turning, before answering. “one million, seven hundred four thousand, four hundred and two.”

the other two men beside gaz leaned over to look at his phone screen to read the correct answer.

“well, i’ll be fucked,” gaz said astonished, all the men gaping up at you. 

you smiled and did a little twirl in victory. “i believe you owe me a drink, kyle.”

gaz nodded before standing. “honestly, i’m not even mad,” he said before passing you and going to the bar. 

you turned to soap, “i’m going to the restroom. i’ll be right back. make sure gaz doesn’t spit in my drink.”

he smirked and nodded then focused back on the guys who were now spewing out nonsense about who could down a beer the quickest. personally, your bet was on soap.

you laughed to yourself and made your way through the moving bodies. once you made it through the crowd, there was a small, dark hallway in the corner of the bar with two bathrooms at the end. it was a lot less busy over here and the music rang far quieter in your ears, you were thankful for the reprieve. 

as you edged around the corner you tripped and stumbled, laughing to yourself as you did. two arms caught you and you giggled at how drunk you were. “t-thank you,” you muttered. you finally focused on the person’s arms and spotted tattoos peeking out of their rolled-up sleeves. your eyes went wide and you quickly snapped your head up. simon . 

“s-sorry,” you said, trying to get untangled from his grip and lock yourself away in the bathroom out of embarrassment. 

“wait,” he clutched your arm and pulled you back to him. it was easy for him to move you, like you weighed nothing to him. that sent both a thrill of fear and excitement through your body. 

you clashed into his chest and immediately tried to gain a bit of space between you two. you hesitated but looked up at him as he loomed over you. to anyone else, they would be terrified to be faced with a man in a dark hallway, his hood pulled, his face covered, and his stance over six feet. but you knew ghost. knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“what?” you asked, a bit more snippy than you intended. 

his hands lingered on your arm, tightening briefly before letting go. “are you with johnny?” the seriousness in his tone surprised you. 

you scoffed. “what?” you were certainly taken aback. then you got a bit annoyed. “is there something wrong if i was?” you rolled your eyes and bit the inside of your lip. “I’ll have you know, there’s nothing forbidden about soap and i. there’d be no conflict of interest. so really, you have no right t-to ask.” you hiccuped on your last sentence and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to look assertive.

“how much have you had to drink?” he demanded. 

“ god, ghost,” you threw your hands up in defeat. “what does it matter? why do you care? me being drunk or s-sleeping with soap has nothing t’do with you. and my intoxication level has nothing to d-do with what i’m feeling.”

“so, you are with him, then?” his eyes darkened as he glared at you from beneath his mask. a smudge of his black face paint was still circled around his eyes, making him appear cynical and slightly terrifying. 

you laughed, he was missing the point. “no. jesus . i’m not with soap. we’re friends ,” you dragged out the ‘s’. 

you stared at him, waiting for him to say something. you decided if he didn’t answer in the next few seconds, you were going to turn around and walk away. this outing was supposed to be fun.

just as you were about to sidestep him, he took a step towards you. you actually had to crane your head back now to look at him. “you know why i care? why i’m askin’ you all this?” you could smell the whiskey on him and it sent a shiver through you.

you shook your head. “no. that’s what i’ve been asking you ,” you whined in mental exhaustion, your voice was far quieter than mere moments ago. the anger behind your words seemed to have left you. “enlighten me. tell me why you’ve been so hot n’ cold lately,” you whispered, losing all your momentum as his eyes flickered between yours. “do you hate me, or n-not?!”

one of ghost’s hands came up and tucked a tendril of your hair behind your ear. your lips parted in a silent gasp. his fingers tickled as they barely brushed over your skin. you swallowed and his hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers slipping into your hair. he leaned forward and you felt your breath get caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. all sane thoughts left your body. all that filled your senses was him. simon.

he used his free hand to snake up between your bodies and push his mask up to his nose, exposing his stubble and scars. “ i’m going to kiss you now ,” he mumbled. he lingered a moment, giving you enough time to escape his hold, but you stayed rooted in place. 

in a painfully slow motion, simon leaned forward, hunching over and pulling your face up to meet him, and placed his lips on yours. 

your eyes fluttered shut and you felt a race of adrenaline pump through you. his hand was gentle as he caressed your face, pulling you further and further into him. you couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

your lips moved out of sync for a moment but you quickly learned how to flow together. your hands instinctively reached out and fisted his shirt, allowing you to extend higher up into him and also keep your balance. 

he turned you so your back hit the wall, making a squealing noise sound in the back of your throat, his free hand going to your hip, pushing you backward. he pressed his body into yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip and then slipping into your mouth. 

you groaned into the kiss as he consumed you, his body shielding you completely. if someone saw ghost from behind, they’d have no idea you were pinned underneath him. 

you gasped as he pulled away, his mouth still dangerously close to yours. 

“simon… i—“ you began, panting as you spoke, trying to catch your breath. 

your hands were still lost in his shirt, his hand still on your hip, but his other one was now on the wall beside your head. “don’t talk.” he kissed you again before you could protest. his lips felt so soft against yours, his stubble tickling you. his hand on the wall couldn’t stop itself from coming back to the side of your cheek, wanting to kiss you as deep as he possibly could. he was truly stealing the breath away from you.

your body rolled into his and you heard him grunt in the back of his throat. it was one of the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard. you felt like you were getting high off him, as he attacked your mouth with such fervor and heady need.

when he pulled away again, you gaped up at him. his eyes danced between yours, appraising you. trying to cypher through your thoughts. you looked at him through your eyelashes, waiting for him to speak or to move. you felt frozen in time. like if you moved, the illusion of him would fade away into a puff of smoke. 

then he moved you in a haze, your eyes focused solely on his silhouette. he grabbed your hand, engulfing it with his own, and pulled you into one of the single-person bathrooms. 

“what’re you—?” 

he shut the door behind the two of you, locked it, and pushed you up against it, your feet rising so you were standing on the tips of your toes. he was panting again, completely succumbing to what he explicitly told himself not to do. the alcohol gave him just strength to suppress the voice yelling at him in his head.

then he kissed you again. this time rough and hungry. your body fell limp as you let him hold you up, his mouth moving against yours in sync. your arms reached up and draped across his shoulders, both of you fighting for dominance, but you gave up rather quickly and let him win. 

simon’s hands roamed your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. any rational thought about pushing him away vanished. you knew you needed to talk about things — to figure out what he wanted from you. but right now, all you wanted was whatever this was. 

“this goddamn dress ,” he murmured in between kisses, his voice husky and low. your chest rushed with flames at his words, knowing that you were affecting him by simply wearing a short dress, and it made you clench your thighs together. 

simon’s hands went to the hem of your dress and he pushed it up, your body hot and clammy as his hand gilded along your skin. he nipped at your lip, his hand slowly descending between your legs. when he got to the apex of your thighs, he softly dragged his fingers across you, forcing you to moan into his mouth. 

“i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys,” he said hoarsely. 

you looked at him, a bit dazed, and still intoxicated — but now by more than just alcohol. “what?” you said breathlessly.

“soap. gaz,” he said flatly. “graves,” he said the commander's name with more anger, his fingers beginning to slide up and down you above your underwear. 

you gripped his shoulders. “okay,” you hastily spoke, still not understanding him, but also not wanting him to stop. 

he pushed your underwear to the side and you were thankful you wore one of your skimpier pairs tonight. as his fingers glidded across you, his fingers getting coated with your arousal, he spoke again. “jus’ with me,” he said. 

just with him? what the fuck was he talking about? you nodded anyway. “just with you,” you repeated. 

“ good girl .” your heart fluttered in your chest at his praise. you never knew those two words could sound so heavenly. but when ghost’s thick accent growled them out breathlessly, you found your core warming more than you thought possible. 

simon pressed two fingers against your entrance, his lips now attacking your neck. you were trying to catch your breath, your mind fogged, your body limp, your heart racing. 

when he pushed them both in, you gasped rather loudly. “ ohmygod ,” you slurred. you were beginning to pant wildly.

you could feel him smile ever so slightly against you. “ mmm ,” he hummed. 

he slowly began to move his fingers, your body ready for him and letting him move with ease. “ so fuckin’ wet for me ,” he mumbled. 

you clutched onto his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut as you focused on the feeling of him inside you. he curled his fingers slightly as he went, pumping them in and out at a decent speed, your body squelching with each thrust. 

normally, you might be a bit self-conscious about being vocal the first time you were intimate with a new person, but you literally could not contain your sounds. you moaned and mewled, crying out when he sped up, his palm bumping your clit each time his fingers went in as far as they could. 

he felt you clenching around him and he marveled at how fast you were approaching your orgasm. it’s not that he had any doubts in his ability, but he’s never made a woman come quite this fast. and you had never had a man make you come this fast either. it was new for both of you.

one of your legs hooked around simon’s thigh, wanting to take him as deep as you could. “fuck,” he grunted, his free hand palming your breast over your dress. “you gonna come for me already, pet?” 

you nodded your head repeatedly, raspy breaths the only response you could vocalize. 

“go on then,” he commanded, keeping his speed. 

your walls spasmed around his fingers and your head buried against his chest. your legs began to shake as you felt yourself reach your high. “fuck, fuck, oh fuck !” ghost engulfed you, holding you up and into him while you clutched him in desperation.

you moaned into his chest and you could hear him panting above you — as if he had just climaxed too. 

he kept moving his fingers, making sure to bump your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm to completion.

when you stopped shaking and were trying to catch your breath, he slowed and eased his fingers out of you. 

neither of you moved. you were still clinging to him and he still had his hands around you, your leg propped on his waist. 

after several beats of silence while you both gasped for air, your hands snaked down his body and fiddled with his belt. you felt simon straighten slightly at your touch, his hand slipping into your hair and making you look at him. 

you succeeded in undoing his belt and you let him tilt your head up toward him. “you don’t have t—“ your hand slid into his pants and grabbed him, cutting him off. he was painfully hard and he groaned the second he felt your fingers on him. 

simon cleared his throat, trying to concentrate as you slowly began to stroke his length. “i’m serious. you d-don’t have to,” he stuttered.

a lazy smile filled your lips knowing how intensely you were affecting him. “i wanna,” you whispered. 

simon’s eyes opened and searched yours, looking for any sign of… displeasure? 

you let your leg fall to your side and you both untangled your bodies. you pushed his chest, baking him up against the sink so he was half sitting on the counter. you pried his pants down enough to free him completely. he watched you intently as you fell to your knees. he was thankful he had the counter for support because seeing you drop to your knees before him made him want to do the same.

god, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. he was already impossibly hard from hearing you moan at his touch. and now you were on your knees, begging to suck him off. he was absolutely fucked. 

you gulped, realizing how big he was. simon murmured your name and you immediately took him in your mouth. 

“ugh— fuck —!” he cried. one of your hands grabbed his base where your mouth couldn’t reach and you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. your hand made twisting motions and your tongue pressed against his cock as you sucked. 

“jus’ like that,” he groaned, his hand coming out to tangle in your hair. his other hand gripped the countertop, holding it so harshly he thought he might crack the porcelain. 

you came up for a breath and a bit of spit dribbled out of your mouth and onto his cock. simon groaned, his hips begging to buck forward. 

you took him in again and simon’s grip in your hair tightened. “not gonna last much— f-fuck —longer,” he said through bated breaths. 

you hummed against him and the vibrations made his cock twitch. he gently bucked his hips forward and you gagged. the noises you were making were so obscene, and simon wanted them ingrained in his brain forever. 

“god, pet. you feel so fuckin’ good .” 

you sucked at the tip of his cock and began to stroke him at a more erratic pace. then you slipped him back in and his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag again. 

“if you d-don’t want me to come in your mouth, you better stop n-now,” he moaned, his head tilting back slightly in pure ecstasy. 

you continued to work him, wanting to taste him. and with a few more bobs of your head and jerk of your hands, simon came in your mouth. 

the hoarse moan he made sent a wave of pleasure between your legs, making you ache to fully have him. you held your mouth in place but continued to suck, making simon’s legs shake slightly. his hand in your hair was now painfully grasping at you but you didn’t mind. 

simon moaned your name as he slowly came back to earth. you popped him out of your mouth and caught your breath, looking up at him. his cheeks were flushed where his mask was pushed up and he was looking at you in astonishment. 

you were kneeling before him, swallowing his come, blinking at him through your eyelashes, your dress still hiked up a bit too high and you’d hair disheveled. you were a fucking work of art and simon was so fucking screwed. 

reality came crashing down on him and he let go of your hair and stood up from the counter, pulling his pants up and redoing his belt. 

he pulled his mask down and you rose in apprehension at his sudden shift. 

“i’m sorry,” he said.

you furrowed your bows. “for what?” 

simon cleared his throat, trying to gain some distance from you. “i shouldnt have taken advantage of you.” 

you gave a mirthless smile. “i told you i wanted to. you didn’t take advantage—“

he breathed your name. “you want something i can’t give.”

“you don’t know what i want,” you said with more merit, but you hugged your arms over your body which said the opposite.

“you’re not the kinda girl for a quick fuck. and i can’t do all the–” he gestured around him with his hands, “– strings.” 

you looked at him with hurt in your eyes. simon wished he could take back what he said. but he kept going anyway, sabotaging himself. 

“you looked good in your dress. that’s all. m’sorry.” 

you gulped, nodding your head but averting your eyes. you swallowed back tears and stood there dumbfounded for a moment. 

you turned to leave the bathroom. you wanted to get as far away as possible from him. 

he called out your name and reached for your arm. 

“don’t!” you shouted, shrugging him off and storming out of the bathroom and back into the bar. 

ghost cursed under his breath as the door slowly shut. he turned and put both hands on the sink’s counter and hung his head. why was he this fucking stupid? why did he hurt you like that? 

why did he lie to you ?

it was true — he didn’t think he could do a proper relationship — but what wasn’t true was that you were simply a warm body to him. no. he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted you. he had been thinking about you against his will for weeks now. and seeing you in that dress, looking up at him with such soft eyes, he was done for. 

he had never had butterflies when he kissed someone. but with you, his stomach did flips and his heart raced in his chest. he should have stopped then. he couldn’t give you what you wanted. and he couldn’t give himself what he wanted.

it was like he thrived on punishing himself. he didn’t deserve good things. and good things never last. the way you pulled at him led him to believe that he wouldn’t fully recover if he let you get close just to leave him. so he couldn’t let himself get to that point with you. 

and you were innocent and full of hope. you’d hate him once you got to know him. he’d been hurt too many times to count and he thought he had forgotten what it was like to love — to have someone you care about. he wasn’t sure he even knew how to love anymore. he’d hurt you. and he was your superior. it was a disaster waiting to unravel. 

but bloody fuckin’ hell, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to feel what he just felt in that shitty bar bathroom with anyone else. and that scared him. 

he could chase after you. you probably hadn’t gotten very far. he could explain everything. tell you upfront about his concerns. you could discuss this like adults. he could let himself have something good for once in his life. but he didn’t feel like he deserved it… deserved you.

he stayed in the bathroom, sick of his face, and punished his reflection, slamming his fist against the mirror, and shattering it. his knuckles coated with blood and he growled. he threw the bathroom door open and startled the two people waiting outside it. 

“what the fuck—you okay, man?” the stranger asked noticing ghost’s hand. 

ghost pushed past them and left the bar, but not before spotting you with soap. you were drunk and he needed to be sure you’d get back safely. 

he saw tears staining your cheeks and a pang of guilt filled him as he stormed out of the bar. 

chapter 9 ➡

[xyziiix]

𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘖𝘍 𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 - (oneshot)

John ‘soap’ Mactavish X Female!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluffly smut??? 🤔, unprotected p in v ( please wrap it guys ), cunnilingus (female receiving) language, porn with little to zero plot 🤭,

Your eyes shot open, the distinct and undeniable ‘squeak’ of your bedroom door is what initially woke you up, your body tensing from panic. But, before you could start contemplating whether or not to charge at the intruder, you hear an alleviating ‘shite..’ hissed by an even more alleviating Scot whom you’d been expecting home from deployment any day now.

John cringed to himself at the abrupt squeal piercing through the silence, his eyes lingering on your unmoving form under the sheets - he’d been reminding himself that he needed to fix the hinges of the door that’d started producing an ear-piercing squeak whenever someone opened it. He let out a breath, his duffel, boots, and other gear was already down stairs and out of the way - leaving him in only his pants and shirt.

“Johnny?” You timidly called out, making the soldier stop his movements of removing his last pieces of clothing, his eyes softened as he looked in your direction. A small amount of moonlight shone through the crack of the curtains, giving him just the right amount of luminance to see you, slowly rising to rest your weight on your elbow, squinting into the darkness to try see him better.

“Sorry, hen, I dinnae mean to wake you up.” He apologised, his arms stretching to pull his shirt over his head, kicking his pants off of his legs, impatience bubbling inside him when you were laid right there - a few feet away from him, after months of being in a completely different continent from you.

He watched you lie onto your back again properly, your head gracefully landing on the pillow, your hair splayed out around you like some sort of halo. You laid there, waiting patiently for him to join you, to hold you again after so long. Now only clad in boxers, he approached the bed, gently pulling back the sheets, your arms instinctively reaching out for him.

That feeling, like after spending hours trying to solve a puzzle, and you finally - finally - get those two pieces together, that’s how you felt whenever Johnny came home - for months you’d feel almost empty in your chest, and when he finally came back, you’d feel the relief of that he was the missing piece to the puzzle all along.

He met you halfway, his arms snaking around to splay across your back, pulling you into his bare chest. Your face pressed against his neck, arms held tightly around his shoulders, afraid that if you loosened your hold, he’d disappear again. You were both in a comfortable silence, embracing each other, inhaling each others nostalgic scent, the inimitable feeling of each others skin pressed together. John was pleasantly surprised to reveal that you weren’t wearing anything under the cover, he let himself hope that wonder if you’d been doing this since he’d phoned you to tell you he’d be coming home soon - planning to surprise him like this.

“I missed you…” you whispered against his warm skin, turning your head slightly to kiss his heated neck. He shifted his arm to a more firmer hold, a shiver rolling down his spine at the feeling of your lips against the thin skin. Your mouth felt kind - like home - the feeling like liquid sunlight seeping into his pores.

“I missed you, bonnie.” He returned, his hushed voice failing to hide the gruffness in his accent. He moved to litter your shoulder in small, kind kisses, trailing them up to your collar bone, your neck, lingering on your jaw before finally meeting your lips.

The kiss was warm, wet, and long overdue. His hand softly holding the back of your head, holding your face to his as you lazily kissed each other. Your tongue rolling against his, arms holding him tighter as you both felt your bodies getting hotter, full of need and want for the other.

With no indication of the kiss ending any time soon, Johnny gently pushed you onto your back, moving to hover above you, he let a soft, prolonged groan into your mouth when he felt your legs lift themselves to lock around his waist - pushing his growing erection firmly into your bare pussy.

His lips pulled away from yours, a lightbulb flicking in his head while he planted a chaste kiss to your chin. He met your eyes properly for the first time, restraining himself from moaning at the glazed, doe-eyed look you were giving him. Your lips, puffy from sleep and his kisses, were parted as you stared up at him. He threaded his fingers through your hair whilst he gave himself a minute to admire your face, the face he’d missed so much these last few months.

Still, that idea of his was flashing like an unmissable sign in his brain, the idea making his cock grow harder against your dampening heat. He pushed his hips into yours a few times, the friction from the cloth of his boxers had you both breathless.

“Johnny-“ you murmured again, your hands resting on his shoulder blades as you pressed chaste, wet kisses all over his neck, and he let out a louder groan at the mix of both of your lips moving against him.

“I wanna taste you, lass.” He finally grunted out, and if possible, you felt your entire body get ten times hotter at his words. The wetness of your desire finally seeping through the fabric of John’s boxers, and he felt himself nearly cumming right there and then at the dampness teasing his cock.

“Yeah?” Your voice broke off into a desperate, pathetic whine. Still feeling him gently push his hips into yours, he gazed down at you, an almost dumbfound look in his eyes, until he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice low and liquid.

He met your lips once more. Sharing a swift, yet promiscuous kiss before he dipped his head lower - camouflaged by the thin sheet that was draped over you both. His calloused, warm hands trailed down your sides while his supple lips tracked down your sternum, navel and then down to your thighs - deliberately neglecting the place you wanted him most. He guided your legs open, his tongue teasing a path on the inside of your thigh, moving closer and closer to your pulsing heat - only to move his head to your opposite thigh. His arms were snaked around the outside of your thighs, his rough hands soothing up your torso to leisurely squeeze one of your breasts.

You felt impatience burning through your stomach at his blatant teasing - you could feel the smile pulling on the Scot’s lips as he kept kissing the inside of your thigh - so close yet so far.

“John…” you whined, he could hear the growing annoyance in your voice.

Finally, he relented - mostly because his impatience to taste you was outweighing his desire to tease you a little longer. You feel two of his fingers spreading your pussy lips open. Flinching when your feel the tip of his wet, hot tongue slowly circling your throbbing clit.

“Fuck-“ you hiss, squeezing the soft sheets between your fingers as you tried to focus on not clamping your legs shut at the stimulation.

He hums against you, dragging his tongue from your clit down to your fluttering entrance, flicking his tongue in and out from your hole. You reach under the covers, interlocking your fingers with his, his other hand coming down to rub tight, rapid circles on your clit while he fucked you with his tongue. His cock pulsating at the taste of you and the sound of your growing moans.

He eventually exchanges the positions of his hands and mouth, his wet lips trapping your burning bud of nerves, sucking softly, his fingers trail over your opening - coating themselves in your slick and his saliva - before slowly pushing them into you.

He thrusts his finger in and out of you, picking up the pace with a ‘come here’ motion. His lips sucking on your clit like a man starved - his other hand giving yours a few squeezes as he felt you squirming, panting above him: all tell tale signs that your body was about to reach its peak.

You all but cried out when he started vigorously moving his head side to side, his tongue flattened out to fan against your bud. The burning sensation in your abdomen abruptly spreading throughout your entire body like wild fire, your stomach tensing as the walls of your pussy squeezed his fingers. You mouth falling open in a silent moan. John, on the other hand, was groaning against you as he soaked up everything you were giving him with your sweet release.

He kept kitten licking at your nerves until he was sure you’d completely ridden out your high, leaving soft kisses on your mound as your body let out slight tremors, your hands reaching to grasp his arm in a weak attempt to pull him up to meet you.

When his face re-emerged from the sheets, you groaned softly at the sight of him. His hair was disheveled, cheeks heated to a deep pink, his lips… swollen and coated in a sheen of your slick or his own spit - probably both. You lifted your head to meet his while he braced himself on his forearms on either side of your body, your tongue peeked out to lick at his plump lips - sharing the taste of you between your wet kisses.

“Mm… you taste fuckin’ amazin’, gorgeous..” he sighed into your mouth, slowly rutting his raging hard-on into your soaked pussy, gasping as the friction showed no mercy on your over-sensitive clit.

“Need you.. Johnny-“ you stammered, hands raking over his broad back, you hips tilting upwards to meet his - spurring him on- “need to feel you..”

He hummed, his kisses trailing from your mouth to your jaw, putting his weight on one arm momentarily as he blindly reached to tug his boxers away, haphazardly flinging the item of clothing onto the bedroom floor.

He gave you one more hurried kiss before pulling back to gaze at your flushed face, observing your expression as he began to slowly slither his cock through your slick folds, watching as your mouth parts slightly when the bulbous head of his dick slides over your thrumming clit. His own brows furrowing at the long-overdue feeling of your body pressed against him. Both of you letting out shaky breaths as he nudged his cock into your entrance - the burning sensation of being filled after such a long time making you hiss.

Johnny looked absolutely absentminded, his eyes glossed over with heavy lids, and his lips parted as he took deep breaths - trying his damned hardest not to let himself go just yet.. wanting to savour the feeling of your hot, tight pussy wrapped around him so perfectly. When he bottomed out, he let out a low groan as he dropped in his head to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, one of your hands grasping onto the nape of his neck - feeling a little dumbfounded yourself, the feeling of being full making your mind go into a haze.

“Missed you..” he whispered again, beginning to slowly roll his hips. The burn your felt of his stretching out beginning to slowly - but surely- ignite into a passion of pleasure, feeling his cock prodding against every nerve inside of you that had your eyes tipping upwards slightly.

“Missed me? Or missed my pussy?” You asked, unable to resist the smug smirk twitching your lips, Johnny pulled his face back to meet your eyes, a similar grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“M’I allowed ta say both?” He smirked before raising a brow at you, “feel like I’m not supposed to say both...”

“Well I can say..” your voice was breathless, “that I missed your dick, not so sure about the rest of you- ahh” your quip was cut off my John nipping his teeth on the thin skin of your jugular.

“Cheeky bugger..” he murmured before pressing a kiss to the spot he bit.

His thrusts had begun increasing their pace, the sound of his hips hitting yours began to fill the room - as well as both of your moans upping in volume.

He felt so good, the fire in your belly burned fiercely as his cock repeatedly pushed and dragged over every point inside of you that you didn’t even know was there, feeling light headed and hot.

“Fucking-“ you moaned, holding into him tighter when he dipped his head down to lick at one of your pebbled nipples. “-shit! I’m so close, Johnny…” At your words, his mouth was quick to reach back up and capture your lips in another searing kiss, his hand clumsily dragging down your conjoined bodies, and you let out a cry louder than intended when the rough skin on his thumb began swirling over your pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Wan’cha to come on m’cock, Bonnie… need to feel ya.” He stammered, his accent getting heavier as his thrusts got sloppier - feeling himself nearing his own edge with your fluttering walls strangling his cock in a vice. “Ya look so pretty when ya come.” He grunted, his mouth near yours as he panted into your skin.

His words spurred you on, your chest rising as falling rapidly as you tumbled over the edge, your moans being muffled my his lips covering your own.

His hips began sputtering slightly, feeling even more warmth gushing around him while your walls spasmed around his pulsing cock. He felt his balls tighten as his release shot up inside of you, warmth filling you as you both panted into each others open mouths. John all but collapsed on top of you , your sweat slick skin sticking to each other like glue, his cock going lax inside of you.

“Fuck me…” you caught your breath, your hand trailing to glide your fingers through the short, damp hair of his Mohawk.

“Yeah…” he agreed, his breathing ragged against your skin.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder before rolling off of you with a groan, laying on his back beside you. Immediately, his hand sought you out, sliding under you to rest on your back - effortlessly pulling you the short distance across the mattress to press you against his chest, one of your bent thighs lifting to rest over his hips, feeling your lids get heavier. Johnny brought his hands to your hair, letting in deep breathes as he studied your face - fuck, he really did miss you.

“M’so glad your back..” you whispered into his skin, your arm draping over his torso.

“Me too, hen.”

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader You missed a check in / 18+ / Your Sergeant commits a war crime for you, hurt/comfort

"It's alright, Cy. It's jus' me. Ghost is standin' watch at the door."

He smoothes the bar of soap over your shoulder, easy and slow, telegraphing his movements the same way he'd try to calm a spooked horse, pressing into their flank with gentle, reassuring pressure. I'm here, his fingers tell you. I'm right here.

"What do ye mean, they missed a check in?"

Laswell, to her credit, is very calm. Always collected in the face of danger, turmoil, and she gestures to the screen, where a blueprint has been replaced with a map.

"They were due in at this checkpoint at 1300."

"Any contact?" Price tilts his head, studying the satellite imagery.

"No. The security detail's gps is showing stationary, but the other vehicle has started to move off course, north." Johnny feels sick. The other vehicle, the one Laswell is talking about, is the one you are in. The one carrying the two analysts and some cut rate american sergeant.

His chair clatters to the floor with bang, fists clenched so tight they shake.

"We'll get 'er, Johnny." Ghost promises, and Price nods, waving them out the door.

"Let's load up."

"I- I don't want to." He doesn't need a clarifying question to understand what you're talking about. He understands you. That's all he'll ever need.

"You dinnae have to. Keep 'em closed for me then, aye? I'll take care of everything." You're still wearing your pants, and your boots, even though the shower is washing water down your body, soaking them until they stick to your skin.

You whine. There are no words spoken, but you fingers twist in the pockets, the belt loops, and he knows.

"Alright, alright. Let's get these off then. I'm going to undo your button and zipper." He murmurs softly, stripping them down your ankles, goosebumps sprouting from your skin as the water splashes against you, raining down onto his hair. His clothes are soaked, stuck to his skin like tar, each flick of his wrist or pull of his arm heavier than usual. He kneels, one knee between your feet, and begins unlacing your boots. "Gonna take yer boots off, now. Then we'll get ye out of everything." You nod. "We'll get ye washed up in no time, get ye into some comfy clothes." He glances upwards, ensuring you heard him, and then taps your calf one by one, urging you to lift a foot at a time as you hold onto his shoulder for support. "There ye go, good girl." He praises once you're nude, rising back to his full height, bar of soap still in hand.

"Johnny." Your press into him, face in his neck, fisting the front of his jacket, trying to burrow yourself beneath his skin. It’s all wrong, how you drift so aimlessly into the ether of somewhere else, lost in the present, in the incendiary magma of a memory he wishes didn’t exist.

"Shhh, wee sweet. I've got ye. I'm here."

"Ye get yer filthy fuckin' hands off her RIGHT NOW." Johnny screams, gives the command at the top of his lungs, Kyle shooting him a nervous look over his scope.

"There's no need to get upset-"

"Shut up." Ghost grunts. "Let the analyst go, an' maybe we'll keep you alive as a prisoner." The woman shakes her head, and then shoves you forward, closer, but no father away from the barrel of her gun that rests right at your temple.

"She's my only leverage now." The body of your co-worker is crumpled on the concrete, blood spilled around him like a halo. Johnny's vision dims red.

"Ye dinnae ken who ye've got in your hands." He warns, a click echoing across the room.

Someone is trying to argue with Simon, just outside the door. Johnny can hear it, the frustrated tenor of someone who's about to make a terrible mistake, the irritated grumble that gets silenced immediately by Lt's bark, more than enough persuasion for them to move on to the next floor's showers.

"Cy?" He murmurs, but you don't respond, face still tucked in his clavicle. You've stayed there, curled up against him, letting him clean you, dirt and blood all washing down the drain as you kept your eyes closed and he re-inspected you for wounds. "I'm goin' take ye back to my room." He holds your upper arms, moving you in step with him, directing you out of the shower and onto the mat, where he reaches for the first of many towels, ghosting the texture across your shoulder, then your cheek, before using it as intended, wrapping it around your body and reaching for the next. It's all he can do now; take care of you, get you clean, get you comfortable, hold you while you sleep and stare at the ceiling, recounting every second of today, fixating on the pieces that could have gone wrong, that could have ended your life and lost you to him, forever.

"Cold." Your whisper redirects his attention. Reminds him of his focus.

"I know, is a wee bit, isnae it?" He brought a sweatshirt, one of his, and once he's got you mostly dry, he taps. "Arms up, wee sweet." When your head pokes through the hole, he smiles, even though your eyes are still closed. "There she is, mo ghraidh." Your pointer finger strokes over the middle of your forehead, circling as if you're outlining a target, and then traces up his neck, over his jaw and across his cheek, patting his lips. They curve beneath your touch, eager to do your bidding, pleased by your silent request. "Of course I'll give ye a kiss, Cy, give ye whatever ye want, always."

"Time's up. What's it gonna be?" Price demands, and the gun digs into the side of your head, forcing you downward at an odd angle, panic plainly displayed across your face.

"Johnny." Your voice sings like an off key chorus, an echo of voices too twisted, too shrill.

"It's alright Cy, nothin' is goin' happen to ye." The woman with the gun laughs. It's decadent, believable, like she truly thinks she's going to get away, or take you with her. "I'm goin' to kill ye." He promises. "Whether it's now, or later. It'l be me, wringing out yer last breath."

Her hand moves to your throat and squeezes.

It's enough. More than enough.

"Guess it'l be now, then." And with no announcement, no more second chances, no more second guessing- his finger pulls the trigger.

“You killed her.” Your whisper trembles in the dark. His muscle involuntarily tenses, and relaxes just as quickly, sinking into the mattress, pulling you tighter into his arms.

“An’ I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over to save ye.”

[ginnysgraffiti]

reader as kathy from the bikeriders, very very random.

DANNY x yn.

"no danny, i told you already, benny isn't my boyfriend. and cut this part in your interview or he'll shoot me." you complained, handing him a cup of iced americano you had just prepared on your kitchen counter. danny was on the other side, smiling as he was holding the microphone towards you to get a better sound of your voice.

"ok, ok, promised. what about johnny? do you know something about his wife?"

you took a sip of your black coffee, savouring the sour taste down your throat before answering.

you had known danny for a month now.

you met him at a self-service laundrette in your small village, while you were doing the laundry with your friends. the washing machines were cream-colored, and the clothes smelled like clean sheets after just the first wash.

danny always walked around with his microphone or camera, a small radio attached to his leather belt and his canvas bag where he kept packs of cigarettes or notepads. at first, he had another shoulder bag, but that one bore the emblem of the prestigious college he went to, and he knew the vandals wouldn't like it.

since the beginning of the interview, danny used the guise of a normal confidential interview about johnny and his biker club, even if your daily-laundrette-friends stubbornly argued about the fact that he was just doing it on purpose to flirt with you. he would do a little interview almost every day, otherwise he would take photos of you and the members of johnny's club.

he said it was for a book he intended to write, where he would write down everything he had collected from numerous interviews and decorate it with pictures as well.

as months passed, you got happily used to the clanking sound of what must be a spoon heard in the background of the recording anytime you prepared him coffee, or the soft smile that would play on his lips whenever you made jokes during the interview, or how he would remove his leather jacket to place it on your living room chair and let his biceps be in wonderful display.

you couldn't deny it anyway, you were physically attracted to danny. shamefully attracted.

he was like fresh air to you. he was kind, gentleman, always well dressed and cleaned. he smelled like post-shaving and cologne, nothing to do with the alcohol and cigarette odor that motorcyclists emanatedfrom sunrise to sunset.

even your laundry girls insisted on you declaring your feelings for him, but you kept thinking he had better things to do and you were just someone destined to stay in his future book pages as the girl best friend of johnny's club's members.

"i thought you had interviewed me enough." you told him one day as he entered your house, carefully leaving his boots near the door rug.

"and so i thought." he said, strangely serious and absolutely not caring about the fact that you were only wearing your underwear and a pajama oversized t-shirt.

your pulse quickened dizzily when you noticed he wasn't carrying any microphone or camera with him, but definitely not because he wouldn't have been able to picture you half-naked and make you look bad.

"so...why are you here?" you asked, your voice suddenly little and cracking.

danny reached you with long strides, crossing the room with ease.

"danny- what are you-?!"

he bent down slightly to grab you so as to pick you up, placing you with the usual delicacy on the kitchen counter where you used to serve him coffees.

"i've been wanting this since the first day." his husky groaned and he removed his leather jacket with a smooth singular gesture, leaving him with his black tanktop you always found yourself staring at.

"danny..."

he couldn't listen to you, because he immediately settled himself between your legs, spreading them and hiding his face under your big t-shirts.

his hands did the same and they immediately found your bra, untying it to permit his wet and hot tongue to drown your nipples.

"mmmh-" a guttural moan escaped your mouth involuntarily as you threw your head back. your muscles tensed at the same time and your jelly legs squished his waist.

"i always thought you preferred benny or other members...i wanted to make a move so bad." he whispered, reaching your lips and kissing you softly.

you cupped his face and pulled him off a little bit just to have a better look at his face.

"you're crazy, you know that, right?"

a low chuckle left his mouth, and his throat throbbed a bit.

"how could i even think of choosing them over you!?"

danny smiled softly, and before you could notice, he had already taken off your bra and t-shirt.