#john mctavish drabble

[aennasan]

You always caught yourself staring at Johnny's behind. He always teases you about it. Always encourages you to touch it with that thick scottish accent of his. As a reply, you just roll your eyes and tell him to get over himself. He just chuckles and tells you that the offer still stands whenever.

Little did he know that it wasn't his ass you were looking at, partly yes, but you just noticed that Johnny has dimples on his back at the bottom of his spine. And you always catch a glimpse of it whenever he wears low rise jeans.

You're not a perv but you wonder how good it would look while you peg him. You wonder how hot it would feel to put your hands on it while you rail his back.

But of course, you keep it to yourself.

Knowing Johnny, he will take your perverted thoughts as a compliment. You had enough of his cockiness.

But.....maybe someday.

[softaestluv]

Johnny who makes it everyone else’s problem that he hasn’t got laid in weeks, that he’s so fucking pent up he can feel it in his teeth. Won’t stop his Scottish whining that his hand isn’t enough, needs a warm cunt to fuck or he’ll go insane.

So, you take one for the team, let him fuck all his pent up cum inside of you because you don’t think you can hear another description of how sad his hand feels. Hope to get him to shut the hell up.

But now he just won’t stop whining about needing to fuck your cunt.

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Convict!Ghost and innocent!reader who signs up for a program to visit and write letters to convicts without friends or families on the outside. You believe in the program, believe you're acting as a way to anchor a man, who would otherwise be lost, to society.

Ghost pretends you're getting through to him, nods and smiles when you tell him you know he can do better, be better. Meanwhile, he's thinking of all the filthy, depraved things he wants to do to you when he's released, thinking of his friend Soap in the laundry whose specialty is smuggling contraband in and wondering if he can convince you to slip him a nice lil picture of yourself or maybe even a pair of your panties. Soap probably wouldn't even want his usual cut, so long as he can get a look too.

[syofrelief]

parasite

johnny is a bit overattached

When you started doing....whatever this was, you would slip out in the morning before he woke, sometimes with a note or a cup of coffee as a greeting. Left on his bedside table for him to see, groggy and drooling.

Well, that didn't work for him. Johnny would curl on top of you at night, and no matter how many pushups you did could train you for moving that. He acted like it was an accident, but you noticed how his eyes would clear when he saw you, his heart would slow, and he'd smile.

You'd kiss him on the cheek and only then would he let you pull on your trousers and sneak out.

Throughout the day, he needed check ins. Waves, brushes on the shoulder, quick pecks or a soft squeeze when he had a second. He'd nudge his way through your office door, shyly asking to sit by you while you did paperwork.

A parasite, you compared him affectionately. His nose scrunched, but the resemblance was there.

You decided to tease him one day. A Tuesday, a rare one with nothing big. A 'smear' is what Soap and the gang called them, for some reason. His favorite. A day where he could sleep in, which meant you slept in. Lounging around, you tucked to his chest as the TV blabbed.

Eyes cracking open, you slowly wriggled your way from under his warm weight. Slowly. He twitched at every move, whining slightly when you finally broke free. Ceding a bit, you smoothed his brow with a few kisses, stroking over his sleeping back. Soap settled again, snoring loudly. You stifled a grin, tugging on a coat and disappearing down the hall. Not even a note.

Johnny was distraught when he woke. The one day he had in months and your side of the bed was cold. He curled into your pillow, sulking at the empty hook where your tags should have been. You must have had an early meeting. He huffed, tossing and turning before grumpily shoving on his running clothes.

You dodged him at every opportunity. Gaz had agreed to team up, sending you a discreet text when your little parasite was on the move.

Track. Hour tops.

You smirked, deciding to stroll down to the armory. The magazines probably needed organizing.

Johnny texted you the minute he finished.

wya, birdie? need tae say good mornin :)

You almost cracked, hearing his pleading through the screen. It was a little cruel, running in circles around him when he just wanted a little kiss. You giggled.

busy, be out all day sorry baby!!!!

Humming, you resumed your collection of menial tasks. It was nice, actually. The quiet.

Johnny was having a wildly different time. He felt like he was going insane. He'd never spent this much time not being by your side, let alone not seeing you. He hadn't seen you since you tucked into bed with him the night prior. It felt like a critical part of his body had been surgically removed without his consent.

He moped around the gym, noticeably bereft of his typical roughousing. In his sulking, he missed the eyebrow waggle Gaz sent over his head, to which Ghost rolled his eyes.

Smelling a whiff of your perfume was the end of it. He was like a bloodhound, trailing through the halls with a bloodthirsty glint in his eye. Recruits flattened themselves against the walls, terrified of the hardness of his jaw. Soap? Pissed? Like that? Jesus, got his knickers in a twist.

You made until noon before he snagged you. Clotheslined you, right across the tummy coming out of the kitchen. Squealing, you fumbled for steady footing as he manhandled you into a hug, growling kisses onto your face.

"Firs' you sneak out in the mornin,'" he huffed, nosing under your jaw. His hand came up to tug at your shirt. "Then ye done disappear for the whole day, like ah'm s'posed to jes' let ye weasel out of- quit, lassie, need it," he broke off in a plead, petting the softness of your hips. You stopped fighting him, accepting your fate as his chew toy.

"Awh, poor Johnny," you teased, playfully biting his cheek. Soap flicked your ear.

"You're takin' the piss, dove."

"A wee bit, maybe."

At your giggle he gasped, stepping away. "Ah'v about lost me mind lookin fer ye and yer teasin'? Kick a man while he's down, aye-"

You tackled him in a hug, nuzzling into his bear arms. Soap paused his lamenting, cooing over your content sigh. You were starting to go a little crazy too, admittedly.

Later, as he snored gently in your lap, you reconsidered your previous classification. A parasite implied there was no benefit to having him latch onto you. But the warm peace floating over you said otherwise.

A pest, you settled for. A very persistent, adorable pest.

[bunny-jpeg]

john 'soap' mactavish just fucked the brains out of your skull the night he comes home after a five month mission. he first had you in missionary to stare at those beautiful eyes of yours, then in doggy style to get that depth in you. finally ending in cowgirl because he loves a girl in charge.

he finished the evening by finger-fucking you, shoving all the cum back into your sweet cunt with his tongue in your throat. his strong form practically pinned you down to the bed as he had his sweet way with you.

you're left as a sweaty, bitten up mess, only for him to waltz out naked like a man on top of the earth, to return with a take out bag of the local shawarma place. the logo stood out in your unfocused vision. for the next hour, johnny will be hand feeding you every last piece of the shawarma plate that he ordered for you.

"c'mon, bonnie. you always say how the falafal is never dry here. give me another bite." he then kissed the top of your head.

you can never doubt that you're beloved johnny won't take care of ya when he's done fuckin' ya. (wait till he shows ya the shiny paycheck he got from his latest mission) <3

[guppybibi]

thinking about johnny who just like–loses a part of himself after he got shot in the head, yes because he totally survived that. i don't know how to describe it, and neither does he.

he just spends a lot of his time disassociating, it creeps you out honestly. oftentimes you find him staring at the wall, the ceiling, and you. he doesn't speak as much as he used to as well, so you're still growing used to the silence.

then one day, johnny just goes missing. he's nowhere to be found, so you go out to try and find him hopefully. along the way, passing by the flower shop you coincidentally meet simon who was just getting out of the shop, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

with your voice still shaky, you ask him if he has seen johnny at all today. and to your surprise he replies with "what do you mean, luv? it's johnny's death anniversary today?"

...who the fuck was in your house..for practically a whole year?

[fidogo]

You tell Soap 'you wanna kiss me so bad' like a child. You're a little tipsy so it's fine. You're allowed to be childish. You don't need to be locked in every waking second. You're allowed to tease the forbidden object of your affection as long as you're not sober. It's fine.

Soap just turns red and sinks into his seat across from you, taking another swig of his drink. If he were maybe 2 more drinks in and Laswell wasn't sitting just a few seats down, you can bet your ass he'd be rattling about all the other things he wants to do to ya.

[shotmrmiller]

I havent a wrinkle in this brain of mine for plot, so have some porn without plot instead :)

Maybe it's because Johnny has you blindfolded, but he feels different. He's heavier on top of you and feels a bit bigger inside of you. It stings more than usual when he finally pushes his cock into your sopping cunt, swollen and tender from the four orgasms he took from you with his mouth alone. Your inner thighs burn as they stretch wider around his thick waist. When his lips meet yours, as your tongues entwine, he tastes of bourbon. He's quiet too, which is very different from the usual filth he whispers into your ear.

But when he starts rocking his hips, all thought fades, along with the ache in between your legs. His thrusts are long, pulling out until only the tip of his cock remains inside. Then he pushes forward steadily until he's pressed firmly against the entrance of your womb— making you wince slightly at the pinch. He does this tirelessly until obscene squelches emit from your cunt, that pinch deep inside of you turning into spine-tingling bliss. Your skin erupts in goosebumps when his head nudges against your sweet spot, a loud moan falling from your lips. He mutedly chuckles, his chest vibrating against sweat-slick breasts and the coarseness of his chest hair grazing your hardened nipples only heightens your pleasure.

You feel him move away from you until his cock slips out, only to vigorously grab at your hips and pull you to him. Your upper body rests on the bed, while he sits on his haunches and keeps your legs spread with his thick thighs as he slowly pushes back inside. But this time, it's not all the way. Oh, no. You know exactly what's about to happen.

"Wait-" but he doesn't. He fixedly keeps you in place at the angle he wants, the angle you need, and moves. His thrusts turn staccato— short, quick jabs— and he's hitting your spot, the one that has you going cross-eyed behind the blindfold. Your mouth is slightly open, drooling at the corner of it as you're rendered helpless against his onslaught.

The fire in your stomach blazes, every snap of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, the coil within you tightening, your body tensing. You can hear him spit— can feel a warm glob of liquid land on your mons, and dribble down to your aching, neglected clit. His thumb collects the saliva and swirls your bud under the pad of his calloused thumb rigidly.

Your spine arches off the mattress so sharply it pops as you climax, a choked scream ripping out of your throat. Your nails dig into the delicate skin of his wrists, no doubt leaving behind red welts. He doesn't stop the stimulation on your clit, his hips never falter in rhythm as he prolongs your mind-numbing pleasure.

Body going limp in his hands, you hiss in oversensitivity and swat at his hands. "Ow, love-" but he cuts you off with a searing kiss before flipping you on your knees, and to the edge of the lofty bed. You're rising to your hands when his big, rough palm pushes you down— his intent clear. With your chest on the bed, he sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke and the angle he goes in with is nothing short of devastating.

If you hadn't been wailing, you would've heard the deep, guttural noise that escaped his mouth. You can feel him in your sternum, replacing the air in your lungs. He swiftly picks up his left leg, positions it on the bed next to you, and sets a merciless pace. The force behind his thrusts rattles your very bones, leaves you breathless. You can feel the meat of your arse ripple with every slap of his hips— can feel the bruises forming in your skin under his hands.

You lift your hand to feel where he's splitting you open, fingers encasing his cock, he stiffens— swells painfully inside of you then he's coming with a snarl. His Cock twitches as it spurts his essence into you, stuffing you full and then some because you can feel his cum trickle down your legs. You try to lift yourself with quivering arms but again, you're manhandled and flipped onto your back, a squawk of indignation silenced with an all-consuming kiss. His lips move against yours feverishly, as if he's committing your taste to memory.

He finally relents, pulling away but you hold him in place with your hands cupping his face and murmur an 'I love you'. The only response you get is one you feel, as he tips his head in a nod, and then presses a kiss into your sweaty temple before moving away.

Later, when you and Johnny are in the shower, you notice that there isn't a single scratch on his wrists even though you definitely dug your nails into him. And that reminds you.

"Johnny?"

"Aye, bonnie?"

"Since when do you drink bourbon?"

[beloveds-embrace]

For the Dukedom AU I noticed that the babies mentioned so far have been boys, what if reader had a girl? Just a thought ^^

Original post

A little princess 🥹 on a more serious side i can imagine reader having a moment of absolute fright when the baby is born and you see a girl. Doesn’t matter how nice and gentle John has been with you this far, how nice all of them have been; the irrational fear of John not being happy to have a daughter as his first child and thus taking her away from you. Your parents had often told you how unimportant a woman is, how a male heir is all anyone wants and should care about.

So at first you are absolutely sobbing and crying, which is really not good for you actually and the midwife is trying to help you while another way simply holds her, but you eventually devolve into crying for John, begging him not to take your little girl away.

It’s also John who pulls you into his arms, unable to hold back anymore when he can hear you crying like that after the grueling birth. Holds you, promises you loud and clear that he’ll never take your daughter away from you, no matter what. Holds you until you are calming down, wipes away all your tears and then helps the midwife situate your little princess in your arms, already so loved and adored.

(And spoiled, too. Best not to ask how much John and Simon have spent on baby items, and how much time and effort Kyle and Johnny have spent on baby proofing the entire duchy and ensuring your comfort.)

[aennasan]

When you first met Johnny, you thought he was homeless and needed help. He was a big bulk of a man, hulking on the corner, dirtied from head to toe, and everyone seemed to be diverting away from where he was sat. He was a foreigner, and in this small town, everyone knew who was who. But compassion overtook you, you knew by giving him your last money, you have to suffer from hunger that day. Yet, you were positive that you will find a way or other means to earn, unlike this foreigner, to whom no one seems to even want to talk to. So with all your heart, you offered him your money. At first, he looked bewildered, shocked, and even confused. He was about to shake his head, to say no to your help, but you insisted and forced him to take it. You have been there. It was embarrassing to receive help, and you understood him. As much as possible, you act discreetly as you open his palm and give him your remaining cash.

Anyway, it didn't take long for you to find out that he was a sergeant. Part of the military who paid for your town so they can station their camp near supplies. The worst is that your cabin, in the middle of the wood, is just a few feet away from them. And Johnny made it his hobby to visit you, and remind you that he is not homeless. He sends you various gifts. From jewelry, clothes, supplies and food.

It started as him being petty because you thought of him as homeless. But as time went by, it was known by 141 that you had become a part of his routine. Meeting and talking to you completes his day.

[softaestluv]

everyone always talks about one of the members of tf141 coming home after a particularly rough day of training on base and fucking you cruel and unforgiving… now let’s make it ghoap— as I always d

slight dubcon, mentions of aggressive sex

You were Johnny’s friends with benefits, more so benefits than friends. He texted you, more often than not, to come over, relieve a viscous ache in his core he couldn’t quite jerk away on his own.

And like a faithful friend, you always responded, for his sake, really. It’s not that you needed him, waited patiently, impatiently, for his text to come over. A short mistyped text—

‘Ned ya, birdie’

You were at his doorstep within minutes, cunt already wet from the drive over. Thinking of all the ways he would bend you in two, coax your orgasm out of you like no one ever has. Ram the shape of his cock into your walls until it took, until your poor, oversensitive walls only knew the curve of his fat cock.

Like a fucking pathetic dog trained, your pussy only knew him, only craved him. Weeped for him when he was on assignments, when your fingers weren’t fucking enough, when the dildo he bought you didn’t quite fill you the way he had, when other one night stands couldn’t even get you off the way Johnny seemed able to.

Your peaks and climaxes wrapped around his roughened finger, claimed them as his fucking own. Couldn’t get off unless it was on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

You hated it. Hated that one harsh grip of his large palm around your jaw had your panties soaked, clenching and throbbing around nothing until he would finally give you what you wanted.

These were normal days for Johnny. Ripped you in two and melted your brain into nothing but the sensory receptors linked to your clit, womb, and Johnny’s fucking cock.

But days he was tired, frustrated, infuriated with work were different. Johnny was flirtatious, charming, welcoming— graced you with enough kindness to give your aching cunt a break. Treated you with more care than a warm pussy he could take his anger out on.

Though when you were fucking Soap, the demolitions specialist; the version of himself where he hadn’t quite returned to civilian humanity, you were always left with a sore cunt, aching bones, a limp, bruises so harsh it alarmed your coworkers the next day— if you made it to work that next day.

You could barely handle one, but somewhere along the lines Johnny had invited you out with Simon. You hadn’t necessarily had intentions to sleep with Simon that night, Johnny was more than fucking enough, even when he was wasted. But maybe Johnny wanted it to happen, coaxed you with soft words and sweet promises.

Ended the night with tears in your eyes as Simon stuffed you full from behind, Johnny’s warm palm cupping your jaw as he fucked your mouth leisurely, cooed soft praises down at you for being such a good girl, taking both of them so well.

Then, Simon’s presence just became an expectation. The texts between Johnny and you became a group chat between the three of you. Simon’s short and curt texts the invite to Johnny’s flat more often than not.

It was great, amazing— every other cliche word in the book. They seemed more in-tune to your body than you did. Enjoyed every moment split between the both of them.

That was before the both of them came home grumpy, angry, pent up. Needed to expel their frustrations in ways only your spongy cunt could provided. It was difficult to deal with Johnny on his own, but involving Simon in the picture, the man who was the picture of a brute, nearly had you passing out.

You were sobbing into Simon’s neck, the larger man fucking ruthlessly, unforgiving into your cunt, arms banded under your knees. Johnny behind you, slamming into your ass with synchronized strokes it had your mouth watering, body limp between them.

You hadn’t even made it past Johnny’s hallway, the two of them had you pinned against the wall in seconds. Bullied themselves into your holes without a care. You were already babbling, body already bruising under their tight grip, hadn’t even been more than 10 minutes since you walked through the door, and their torment hadn’t even really started for the night.

But, ‘Aye, ye can handle it, can’t ye, hen?’

[criminalamnesia]

to hold everyone over until I finish traitor part four…

part one / part two / part three

I think kyle and johnny would 100% be the quickest to admit their fuck up, and I think they’d be the last to believe the ‘betrayal.’

the whole squad is fiercely loyal, but those two? those two didn’t believe it until price shoved the evidence in their faces; only then was it too damning to deny.

and god, they feel sick at the thought of what had happened to you. what they did to you. their teammate, their confidant, their friend.

sure, simon had taken point on the ‘interrogation,’ but johnny and kyle had helped. johnny had personally cut into you. kyle was no saint, either.

so when price breaks the news that you’re not the rat, johnny is sprinting to the room you’re being held in. he runs so hard across base that he thinks he may pass out when he finally bursts into the room, hands on his knees as he struggles to breathe.

and when he hears your laugh, he can’t help but think of how wrong it sounds. it’s hollow, untrue. eerie. unnerving. it makes him sick to his stomach.

he helped simon untie your limp body from the chair, and then he followed close behind as simon carried you to the infirmary. kyle was already waiting, eyes wide and lips bitten from nerves.

they don’t leave your side until price makes them. even then, the two are trading off standing outside the infirmary, eyes searching for you every time the door opens and closes. the doctor just shakes her head as she passes them.

they know it’s a long shot, but they have to try.

you’re one of them.

[millzinterlude]

Okay but what about telling Soap that you’re ’stronger than him’ just so he can manhandle you. You know what you’re doing. Egging him on just so he can overpower you. “I dunno..I just feel like I’m stronger than you. I think it’s obvious..” You say, trying to hide your smirk. He raises an eyebrow, glancing at you as he tilts his head to the side. “Er-..last time I checked ye couldnae even do a wee five push-ups hen. Now yer claiming tha’ yer stronger than me? A lil ridiculous aye?” He let out a little incredulous laugh. “No no, I’m definitely stronger than you, see, look at my muscles. My biceps are wayyyy larger than yours..” You added, watching his face twist up in a look of slight amusement and skepticism. “Nae, lass ye wish ye had biceps like mine. Biceps ‘re basically bigger than yer head. I could pop yer head off if I squeezed ye between them.” He scoffed as he flexed his muscles, the tight compression shirt he wore hugged his body so nicely. You were basically eye fucking him while he tried to figure out why the hell you were discrediting and underestimating his strength and physique. You took it a step further. “I bet you can’t even pick me up..or win a wrestling match with me.” You sigh like you’re uninterested. His face twists up even more. “I betcha I can! C’mere.” He picked you up right off the couch, holding you like a trophy, basically bench pressing you. “See hen??? Yer light as a feather. Ah could bench press four of ye without breakin’ a sweat ye ken??” He says, genuinely trying to show you that he is stronger than you. He even flips you over, pressing you into the couch, putting you in a headlock which makes you let out a moan. He loosens his hold, eyebrows raising as he looks down. That’s when he understands what you’re doing. When it clicks for him, he smirks. Tightening his hold again before he lays on top of you, grinding himself into your ass. “Ah. I see what yer doin’ now hen. If ye wanted me ta manhandle ye, shoulda jus’ said that lass..” You’re not registering anything he’s saying, like at all. All you know is that you have a big man on top of you, thick bicep and forearm around your neck while he’s rutting into you. He’s so into this, something about having his girl under him and pressing his entire weight onto her body really gets him going. You’re trying to push back into his crotch, he’s groaning and you’re a moaning mess. When he finally lets up he’s picking you up and folding you in half, you’re not even able to testify against his before he’s shoving your shorts off and they’re halfway across the room. His face immediately between your thighs as strong hands hold them up and push your knees back into your chest. It’s safe to say he definitely shows you how strong he is that night 💝.

[kkusuka]

how 141 ended up at the pentagon halloween party was unclear but they were there, on a balcony looming over the central courtyard watching you and your friends chat about things that are absolutely classified. but as the night winds down your groups dwindle and somehow soap found himself alone on the balcony as you stare into his soul.

and it's not like he hasn't been watching you all night, in your cute little sixties dress where if he stands at the right corner and you stand far enough away, he can see the curve of your ass and the tiny shorts that look more like panties as the night drags on. and watching you downing four cocktails then immediately shot gunning a beer was impressive and if he had any more time to spare in america he would ask you where you're planning to spend the night. maybe even ask you about your breakfast plans, or any plans at all that he could stick himself into to stay near you. or maybe just stick himself in you at all-

"you do demolitions, right?" your voice breaking him out of his new favorite fantasy was one possibility he thought up, but he was hoping it would be you asking him to pounce on you and not his job but he can work with this, "yeah, i can tell ye anyt'hing you wannae hear, bonnie."

and you just keep looking at him, so he takes it away. he heard you talking with your friends about information handling so he isn't worried about the heaps of classified information he's telling a random federal worker. "- and even ma good pal ghost, the quiet on wit the mask, cannae do it like i can. not tha 'm tryn' to brag, lass, unless yer into tha-"

"you should wear a helmet."

"wha?"

"like one of those green army helmets that cover the top of your head. like just incase you know?" and he's suddenly frozen, his bonnie lass worrying about him? so sweet, he knew that fate would eventually reward him for doing what he does- "i'm sorry this was really weird, just uh- keep going i guess? i'm so sorry. i'll stop bothering you."

he feels frozen watching you get up and head towards the door, assumingly to rejoin your friends to leave. and you almost make it, hand reaching for the handle before he jumps into action. hands grabbing your waist, dragging you back to him, a lot closer than he thought you'd let him be considering how tense you got. but god if he didn't love how your eyes stared up at him and how close your face was to his, just an inch closer and he'd be kissing you.

"nah, not strange at'all lass. helmet it is, and maybe, in case ye ever wannae check in on me, i could get yer phon-" and it would have been such a good moment, one of his best actually, if not for the bloke busting through the door, smiling to greet you, and then puking right at your feet, "ah, fer fucks sake-"

then you're being yanked away from him by two of your friends from before, babbling about how the uber is three minutes away.

"wait!" then you're right in front of him again and there is a pinky in his face and your eyes are back on his, "pinky-promise? for my sake?"

"yeah, pinky-promise fer yer sake, bonnie." and he leaves you with a promise, a kiss to your wrist, and no name to remember him by.

( 'yah lads just donnae get it. no one's ever looked a' me like tha, i'll wear the helmet to hell of they wannae me too'

'tha's great sergeant, now pick up your gun and lets go'

'nah captain 'ts not great, i've got a sweet lass worryn' 'bout me, this is better than great'

'you got a name from 'em soap, or are we gonna have to hear bonnie and lass for the rest of time'

'FUCK' )

and just a few months later, when he wakes up in one of the hospitals near the base with a doctor babbling to him about how the bullet was slowed down by his headgear and that if he had been shot from any closer he wouldn't be here- johnny knows that another visit to the pentagon to see his bonnie lass was in order.

(maybe dinner and a good fucking after- as a thank you, y'know?)