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ro-is-struggling · 1 month

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First Impressions || Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: the story of how you and Johnny met the morning after he slept with your roommate

THIS IS PART 1 OF MY MINI-SERIES FIREPROOF! Masterlist + info HERE

Warnings: Johnny is a bit of an ass (but that’s kinda like his thing in this lol)

English is not my first language

Word count: 1200

Notes: this is a lot shorter than the rest of the parts will be bucause originally it was only going to be a flashback, but I hope you guys like it!!

Johnny was being careful this time, tiptoeing down the hallway as he got dressed. He had learned the hard way that shoes were best left for last, they made a lot of noise when he stepped on the wooden boards that creaked under his feet and alerted the girl sleeping on the bed to his intentions. That wasn't a mistake he would make again —not after the scene Kate made when she discovered him trying to flee the morning after he met her—, so now he always made sure to put his shoes on once he was out of his latest conquest's apartment.

He thought he was in the clear. The front door was in his vision and he could still hear the subtle sound of Allie's? —he wanted to say that was her name, but wasn't sure— snoring coming from the room. However, the sound of someone clearing their throat made him stop in his tracks. Turning around, Johnny found you sitting at the kitchen island eating breakfast.

“Sneaking out, huh?” your eyes didn't lift from your phone as you spoke to him. But you didn't need to do so to know he had an uncomfortable expression on his face at having been caught in the act.

“No.” Johnny lied. “I just...”

“I have commitment issues that won't let me stay to say goodbye to the girl who sucked my dick the night before?” You answered for him, finally looking up to look at him. “I figured.”

“I was going to say I have an early class... but I guess that works too.”

“Oh, an early class, sure.” Your unimpressed tone let Johnny know you didn't believe him one bit.

As he awkwardly put on his shoes he took a moment to get a better look at you. He remembered that Allie —let's go with that— had told him she had a roommate and now that he got a better look at you, your face looked familiar. He had definitely seen you around campus and probably had taken some classes together, but he couldn't think of your name if his life depended on it. He wasn't very good at it, apparently.

“Are those pancakes?” Johnny asked curiously, his stomach growling at the smell of food. It made sense given that the night before he'd barely eaten before going straight to business.

“Yes... You want some?” You looked at him with an arched eyebrow and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Please!” He didn't wait for your response before approaching the kitchen and taking a seat next to you. He helped himself to a plate as if he were in his own home, groaning with pleasure as he put a bite of food in his mouth.

“What about your early class?”

“Oh, my buddy can cover for me.” Johnny spoke with a mouthful of food and you let out a giggle.

It was honestly surreal to have Johnny Storm, the womanizer everyone on campus swooned over, having breakfast in your apartment. Your friend had been trying to get his attention for a long time —and somehow you always ended up in the middle of it—, but when she asked you to disappear for a night from the apartment you didn't think it was because of him. You were happy for her, but at the same time you hoped she hadn't gotten her hopes up for him. Johnny wasn't a complete asshole, but from the way he tried to sneak away without being discovered you couldn't imagine that anything good would come of it. And from the way your friend talked about him, you doubted she'd settle for a one-night stand. So it was your job to protect her from her own heart and the antics of the biggest player on campus.

“You want some coffee?” You asked him after a moment of silence. Your voice seemed to snap him out of a trance, forcing him to stop thinking about how delicious those pancakes were and bring his attention back to reality.

“Sure!” He nodded with a smile and you got up to get a clean cup.

You poured him a cup of hot coffee fresh from the pot. The scent flooded the room and you could see in Johnny's tired eyes how much he wanted to savor the steaming liquid. When you placed the cup on the counter he reached out for it. However, you pulled it away before his fingers could close around the handle.

“What are your intentions with my friend?”

Johnny's confused expression turned to an amused one as he realized he had fallen into your trap. “Oh, it was a trick coffee. I see.”

“Yes, coffee is for talkers. Now talk.”

He laughed at your accusatory tone, but when he noticed your stern expression he realized you were serious. “I don't know, we're just getting to know each other.” Johnny said, scratching the back of his head. Actually he did know the answer to your question. He wasn't a fan of serious relationships, but he never ruled out the possibility of a casual second meeting with anyone.

“Well, you better figure it out! And you better tell Ellie about it!”

Oh, so that was her name!

“I mean it, she is a sweet girl and she's been trying to get your attention for a long time. She doesn't deserve to have you messing with her.”

“I wasn't going to!” Johnny threw his hands up in the air in a defensive manner. “If anything I was trying to let her know my stance on the relationship by sneaking out but you kinda ruined it. So if anything, it's your fault.”

“Please tell me you're joking.” You huffed, unable to believe what you were hearing. Although from the reputation he had on campus, you shouldn't be surprised. “Sneaking out is not communication! It only creates more confusion. You have to use your words, like the rest of us grown ups.”

“But talking about it makes everything more... messy and complicated.”

“Well, you better make it less complicated real fast or I will.” You threatened him, finally passing him the cup of coffee you had held hostage to make sure Johnny heard you. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am!” he assured you with an amused smile before raising the cup to his lips.

Johnny couldn't describe exactly what it was, but there was something about you that he really liked. The way you snapped at him, using that tone of voice that was at times serious and at times sarcastic, was refreshing. He was used to women reacting in the opposite way to his presence —always watching what they said and acting flirtatious to get his attention. Most of the time it took him ages to understand what they wanted or expected from him because they refused to be direct. He was not a mind reader and had no time to waste, so he appreciated your honesty, even if it was a bit brutal. He knew at that moment that he wanted to get to know you better. There was something that told him that your story wasn't over, even if his relationship with Ellie was.

And he wasn't wrong.

#johnny storm x reader #human torch x reader #johnny storm x fem reader #johnny storm #fantastic four #human torch #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm angst #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm fanfiction #fireproof series

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Promot 18 and 9 for johnny storm please

.⋆｡On Fire｡⋆.

Johnny Storm x plus size reader

Johnny is ok at being a hero, he’s good at extreme sports and he’s a god at sex, but feelings- he can’t do those

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, FWB to lovers, angst, shower sex, Johnny’s a bit of an asshole, I accidentally wrote Johnny as an American Jamie Tartt and I can’t find myself getting mad at it, fluff

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

3000 Follower Celebration

“Holy fuck this pussy is goddamn magical.” Johnny groaned into your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your delicate skin. Cold water rolled down your body, the hot water having long been used up. His thick cock buried to the hilt inside you, his hands firmly planted on your wide hips as he drove into you.

“Johnny I love you.” You moaned. Your back arched as yet another orgasm began to build in your stomach. You reached back for him but only succeeded in skimming his abs with the tips of your fingers. He retaliated by punching into your cunt even harder, forcing your naked chest into the chilled shower tiles and away from him.

“Jesus, loosen up, you’re squeezing me so tight.” He groaned through gritted teeth. Heat began to grow behind you and Johnny’s cock somehow got even hotter inside of you. His right hand released your hip and captured your clit between his fingers, strumming you desperately to your end. “Fuck!”

Heat exploded deep within you and drove you over the edge. “God baby.” You moaned and slumped forward, letting your body relax underneath the cool spray of water.

“Damn baby, that was a good one.” Johnny slapped your plump ass in a friendly manor and pulled out of you.

You winced at the feel of his release escaping you as you stood up straight, letting the water wash your previous activities away. “Yeah it was.” You dismissed. Johnny raised a brow at you as you walked past him, grabbing one of his very expensive white towels on the way out.

“Where are you off to? Got some hot date?” He teased, trailing behind you. You didn’t even glance at him while you grabbed your clothes.

“No but you do. Diamond has been dying to finally get under you.” You sneered her name as you pulled on your panties. He scoffed.

“So what, it’s not like I’m actually dating you.” You froze, your stomach dropping.

“Yeah, I know.” You slipped on your sweater and grabbed the rest of your things. “Goodbye Johnny.” And this time, your goodbye actually sounded real.

——————

Johnny stared at his phone like it had offended him. “What’s up your ass today?” Ben planted himself in his reinforced chair across from the younger man, coffee cup in hand. Johnny just glared at him.

“Y/N’s been ignoring him for a week now.” Sue sat next to her little brother, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What did you do?” A murderous gaze levelled at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” Johnny retorted with a whine. A notification lit up his phone and he immediately abandoned the conversation in favour of grabbing his phone. He let out a sigh of disappointment, it was just a message from yet another one night stand.

Even without eyebrows, Ben’s brow raised. Johnny crumpled. “I didn’t do anything.” He muttered almost shamefully. “She just left my place the other day and hasn’t called me back even though I’ve texted her like 20 times! That’s 19 more times than I usually do!”

Richard suddenly appeared behind his wife. “And we ask again, what did you ‘not’ do?”

Johnny sighed heavily and slumped over the table. He propped his chin up on the counter, staring off into nothing. “I thought she didn’t mean it, I mean I was in the middle of blowing her back out!” The others winced but he continued. “She said she loved me.”

“And did you say it back?” Sue asked. The silence was all the answers they needed.

“And you’re still seeing other people?” Again there was silence but he nodded.

“And is she?” He shook his head.

“You’re a fucking idiot and you most definitely do not deserve a good woman like that.” Ben slammed his palm on the table, shaking the ground with the force. “Absolute piece of shit, can’t believe how stupid he is.” Ben muttered as he walked away.

Sue and Richard watched him go before turning back to the youngest member of the group. “Johnny, you know what she’s ignoring you. You broke her heart and I think it’s now breaking yours.” She squeezed her brother’s shoulder. “And I agree with Ben, you kind of deserve it.”

“But, maybe you can fix this.” Richard spoke up. “It’s never too late if you really do love her.”

Johnny glanced at his brother-in-law sceptically. “But I don’t love her. I mean I guess I like having her around. She’s incredible in bed and she makes these pancakes that are out of this world. And when she sleeps next to me, I sleep better than I ever have. And when she smiles at me, I get this weird feeling in my stomach. And sometimes when I’m out shopping I look at rings. But that means nothing!” He paused and looked at Sue. “Right?”

She just looked at him, her eyes softening. “Right?”

Sue laid a kiss to the side of his head. “I think you know the answer to that already.”

——————

The bottle of red was halfway gone when the knock on your door came. You groaned and forced yourself up from your extremely comfortable couch, stumbling only once as you made your way to the door.

“What are you doing here?” The one and only Johnny Storm stood on your doorstep looking like a lost puppy.

He looked at you with those huge blue eyes that had made you fall into his bed more times than you could count. “I was an asshole.”

“Yes you were.”

“And I shouldn’t have ignored your feelings like that.”

“Correct.”

“And I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door because you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry and that I- shit c’mon. I looo- I can’t say it but you know what I mean.” You raised an eyebrow at him causing Johnny to sigh.

“Ok well I can’t say that but I do feel it. You’re absolutely amazing and a complete bombshell. And when I’m around you, I can be myself, not Johnny Storm, not the Human Torch, just me. You have been by my side through so much, even before we started sleeping together, which was a great decision by the way cause we are fucking awesome at sex.” You couldn’t help but smile and agree with the sentiment. “You’re my person, you are my home, you always have been. So yeah, there’s that.”

He shrugged almost sadly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “This doesn’t fix everything, you know that right?” His shoulder’s fell along with his expression.

“But what you said does mean a lot to me, so you can come in if you want to but you stay at least five feet away from me at all times. You have a lot of grovelling to do before you’re allowed back in.” You emphasised. Johnny perked up and bounced up the steps, giving you a peck on the cheek as he passed. You allowed the affection and slipped in behind him, a little smile on your face.

Johnny was buried between your thighs barely 15 minutes later.

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popeheywardssecretgf · 1 year

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if u guys wants to read a Chris Evans fanfic u can see my story “Mutuals” on wattpad by “messils83” <3

#chris evans #Chris evans x Reader #vanessa hudgens #Chris evans fluff #Chris evans Angst #chris evans x female reader #Chris Evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans imagine #chris evans x pregnant!reader #chris evans is daddy #marvel cast #WATTPAD #ari levison x reader #steve rodgers x reader #johnny storm x reader #ghosted #mcu

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

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Just A Kiss - Johnny Storm X GN Reader

Title: Just A Kiss

Johnny Storm X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Susan (Mentioned), Reed (Mentioned), Ben (Mentioned), Victor (Mentioned), Steven (Mentioned), and Reader's friends (Mentioned)

Part 2 - Burning Flame

WC: 2,284

Warnings: Embarrassment, society pressure mentioned, insomnia, bullying mentioned, slightly suggestive (pretty spicy), nervousness, anxiety, fidgety Reader, friends to lovers, crying, sassy Reader, slight angst, cuteness, and fluff

You lay awake on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You had a rough day. Your alarm didn't wake you up, you were late for your first class, you definitely failed your test, and your friends were all talking and talking about their first kisses. It was just so... Uncomfortable for you. They didn't know that you hadn't had your first kiss. Yeah, you're twenty-two... From what society had told you, you should've had one by now. No one knew that you never got yours. And, even when your friends asked you about yours, you just told them you had yours in high school, just like they did. Saying yours wasn't anything special. Thankfully, they bought your terrible lie and went on with their conversation.

Unable to sleep, you grabbed your phone off your bedside table, unplugging it from its charger. Squinting at the sudden brightness of your screen, you turned down the brightness and went to your contacts. Scrolling down a bit, your finger hesitated over Johnny's picture. You had been friends with Johnny and his sister since you were kids. Johnny had always been your best friend, ever since he stopped some kids from bullying you. He was your hero, and you wished you didn't tell him that. Even at fifteen years old, his ego grew. At around the end of junior year, Johnny sort of changed, he became more interested in girls. Flirting and fooling around. It was rather annoying, and it made you rather sad when he'd cancel hanging out with you to go out with some cheerleader from school.

After high school and a little after his time in college, he chillaxed a bit, but he still was an egotistical playboy. It was hard when he, Susan, Reed, Ben, and Victor went to space for their weird job. Johnny had been gone for a long time, and there was no way to really contact him. For months you missed your gaming Sundays and studying Wednesdays. You missed when he'd take you to the movies or diners for lunch. It was even worse when he did come back. With those powers of his.

It was like he was a teenager again, showing off to the ladies his amazing powers, going to bike show events, and spending nights with different women. Yes, it was nice to have him and the others back and to be able to have the chance to work with them in their lab after your graduate classes. But, being around Johnny when his ego had blasted through the rooftops was very irritating. Susan liked to keep you around when Johnny was being immature since you were really the only person to bring him back to earth from his celebrity fantasies.

And, here you were, hesitant to even ask Johnny to come over. Who knew what he was doing... You didn't want to bother him, but he had always said that no matter what time or day, you could ask him to come by. That was one amazing thing about Johnny, he was so attentive. Always wanting, and willing, to help you. He had once said he didn't care if it was night or day, if it was early or late or if it was in the middle of a snowstorm; he'd drop everything to go and help you.

Making your decision, you calmed your nerves, tapped his profile, and then tapped the text option. Shifting in your position, you began to text, before pressing send.

'Hey, can ya come over?'

Not even a minute later you got a text back.

'Sure sweetheart, window open?'

You rolled your eyes, typing back.

'Don't burn down my house...'

‘🙂’

You then turned off your phone and got out of bed, walking over to turn on your light. You sat back down on your bed as you waited, only to then hear a soft knock at your window. Looking over, you smiled softly as Johnny opened your window, stepping in. Closing the window, Johnny turned to you, and that's when you noticed he was in his 'superhero' suit. Walking over, Johnny sat next to you, looking at you with a slightly worried expression.

"What's up?" He asked as he watched you look forward, pursing your lips. "Nothing I did, right? If I did do something, you can punch me... I can handle it." He tried to joke, but you knew Johnny, you could see how worried he was by his posture and the look in his eyes.

"I just had a rough day." You began softly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap, "I was late for my first class, totally failed my test, and my friends were hard to deal with."

Johnny frowned as he narrowed his eyebrows slightly, "What did they do?" He asked, his voice deep as he stared at the side of your head.

You just shook yours and turned to look up at him, "Nothing, they were just talking and I felt left out."

Johnny hummed, "What were they talking about?" He asked and you froze up momentarily.

That was what you didn't want to tell him. The thought alone terrified you. You didn't want him to know you've never kissed anyone. You were worried that if he knew, he'd make fun of you in some way. Tell everyone in the world that his best friend never got their first kiss. But, the rational side of your brain said he would never do such a thing. He was your best friend. You bit your lip as the two of you sat in silence. Johnny sat patently beside you as he gave you time to think and maybe open up. Another amazing thing about him. Sometimes Johnny's presence brought you comfort. It made you feel better, it allowed you to breathe freely and calm down.

"They asked about my first kiss." You finally blurted out without thinking and winced as soon as the words had left your mouth.

There was another moment of silence before Johnny spoke up. "Well, how did that go?" He asked and you sighed, unable to look at him.

"Terribly. Since I never had one."

Johnny looked at you confused, "I thought you said you had yours with Steven, from history class?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I lied."

Johnny looked at you, confused, yet his voice sounded sad, "Why?"

You scoff, unconsciously pinching the skin of your palm. Johnny noticed, pulling your hand away and holding it captive in his.

"I felt left out, Johnny. Everyone has had their first kisses, and I never got one. So, for years, I've lied and said I did."

Johnny shook his head, taking your other hand in his, tuning you around to face him. "Not having your first kiss is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N." He told you gently, brushing away a few tears that had fallen onto your cheeks.

Sniffling, you nodded and tried to stop crying. "I just... I never got that and I feel like... Like I am missing out on something that should've happened in my life. It makes me feel like I-" You paused.

"... Like you're missing something important?" Johnny finished for you and you nodded, biting your lip again.

"Yea, something like that."

"Oh," Johnny mumbled softly, stroking your hair gently with his free hand, "Listen, sweetheart. Not everybody will experience the same thing at the same time.” His tone softened as he looked at you, "I'm sorry you haven't experienced your first kiss. But... I have an idea if you are up for it." Johnny spoke as you tilted your head to the side, confused, and curious.

"What's your idea? If you say that you'll set me up with one of your dumb friends-"

"I won't set you up with any of my dumb friends. Just hear me out." Johnny began, gaining your attention.

You stared up at him as he smiled softly down at you before speaking, "How about... You have your first kiss... With me?"

Your eyes widened as your eyebrows shot up, "Huh?"

Johnny quickly squeezed your hands, "Hear me out! You haven't had your first kiss-"

"Keep rubbing it in." You mumbled, earning a small glare from Johnny as he continued.

"You could kiss me so you won't have to wait. Plus, you already know me, and I am your best friend. Who else would be the perfect match for your first kiss? I’m a genius." He explained, making you narrow your eyes at him.

You were shocked that Johnny would even volunteer to be your first kiss.

"Really?" You asked incredulously, staring up into his blue eyes.

He nodded softly, smiling down at you as he rubbed your cheek and your drying tears, "Of course Y/N, I'd be honored." He smiled gently as you swallowed thickly, looking down at your lap, closing your eyes.

You wanted this. Even if it wasn't anything serious, it still counted. It would just be a kiss. Opening your eyes, you looked back up at Johnny and nodded.

Johnny gave you a nod back and straightened his shoulder slightly. "Alright, so I’ll lead you into this." He spoke softly as he scooted closer to you, and you quickly shut your eyes tight, making Johnny laugh lightly. "Relax, that's rule number one." He spoke, booping your nose; smiling as you scrunched it up.

"There are rules?" You asked and Johnny nodded, though you couldn't see it.

"Yeah, shush. Now, relax... tilt your head slightly- Yeah, like that. Okay, now wet your lips." He spoke, placing his hands on your blushing warm cheeks, watching as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Johnny did the same, before speaking again, "Okay, now just go with the flow."

"That's easy for you to say, you've done this before." You mumbled as Johnny sighed.

"Shush, I'm gonna kiss you now."

Now, that shut you up.

Johnny watched as you slowly relaxed, your scrunched-up eyes relaxing as well. Tilting your head slightly in his hands, Johnny took a moment to look at you. Gazing as your eyelashes lightly fluttered on the tops of your flushed cheeks, Johnny smiled to himself. Leaning down, he brushed the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip as he pulled your face towards his. Licking his lips, he gently pressed his lips against yours. His lips were soft and tasted of coffee. Your hands moved upwards to hold his neck, pulling him in a little closer to you as you both deepened the kiss as Johnny ran his fingers through your hair. Slowly pulling away, your eyes fluttered open, staring up into Johnny's blue ones as you both caught your breath.

"You're a natural," Johnny whispered before you spoke.

"What are we doing?" You asked, feeling as if some unknown and unseen force was pulling you closer to Johnny.

"I don't know," He answered, his nose brushing against yours "But... I really like it."

"Me too." You let out breathily, mind foggy; clouded.

His gaze lowered to your lips, yours doing the same. Your hand tightens, finger weaving into his short hair and you pull him down, locking lips with him. You both moaned in satisfaction, kissing each other as you tried to get closer to the other, deepening the kiss once more. This kiss was different than the first one, this one was passionate and intense. Your heart started beating faster than you could control, making you feel lightheaded. Johnny pulled you closer, his warm hands finding their way into your shirt and onto your skin. His touch sent a jolt through your entire body. Slowly, Johnny pulled away, his half-lidded eyes staring into yours.

Before either of you could say or do anything, you heard a phone ringing. Johnny quickly grabbed his phone and answered it. You bit your swollen lips as he spoke.

"What? It's midnight? Susie, chill. I'm with Y/N. Yeah, we're studying, well, I'm helping them." He spoke, nudging you gently with a small laugh and a wink. "Yeah, I know it's not Wednesday. You're not our mom, Sue. Yeah, I'll come back. Love you." Quickly, Johnny hung up, tossing his phone on his bed.

"So, Susan wants you home?" You asked and Johnny shrugged.

"Yeah, it's whatever though." It was quiet for a while before Johnny spoke, "Are you okay? Are we okay?" He asked softly and you nodded.

"Yeah, Johnny. I'm good. We are good. Thank you."

Johnny nodded as he scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, no problem. Happy to help." You sat in silence again until he spoke up again, "I guess I have to go now. Don't want to make Sue wait."

You laughed nervously, "Yeah, don't want to make her wait." You spoke and he nodded, smiling widely at you. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, causing you to blush profusely.

"I'll uh, I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked as you walked over with him to your window.

You nodded, "Yeah, I'll be at the lab."

Johnny nodded, "Okay, cool. I'll go. Yeah..." He spoke, turning to the window, but pausing.

You watched him confused as Johnny quickly turned back around to you, placing his hands on your cheeks, he leaned down and connected his lips with yours. Kissing you as if he'd never see you again. Pulling away after a few seconds, he cupped your face with his left hand, smiling softly at you before pressing a gentle peck against your lips.

"Bye, sweetheart." He whispered, before opening the window, catching ablaze, and flying off.

You stared after him, eyes wide as you pressed your fingers to your lips. You were more confused than ever now.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

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lvlyghost · 1 year

Text

Cold Nights

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't show up for morning training. Ghost doesn't know what to think.

Word Count: 794

Tw: fluff, angst, mentions of being sick, soldiers being scared of simon lol, ooc simon probably, he calls reader kid, i think that's it🤭

A/N: I'm sick and this came to my mind, I just want simon to take care of me okay???🥹🤧 this is super bad as usual. still hope you like it. pls remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome ✨💖

Masterlist✨

Ghost doesn't see her at the cafeteria, nor the training room. He's disgruntled. His eyes keep drifting apart from the soldiers in front of him, waiting for the next round of endless push ups he's gonna make them go through.

Why isn't she here?

His body feels restless, pacing back and forth.

Soap doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to another.

"Johnny," he calls him. "You're in charge."

"Lt.?" He quirks a brow, not understanding. That's so unlike him.

"Got things to do."

He storms out of the room, the walls rattle when he closes the doors.

It's a cold day. Just like the day before.

Days used to mean nothing to him.

Time.

Until she came along. Three years ago.

That woman... he sighs.

Was it something he said? Didn't they talk about it last night?

Everything was fine.

Or so he thought.

"We shouldn't be out here, kid." He mutters. It's freezing, he can see her trembling even beneath her hoodie. Well it was actually his. The hoodie completely swallowing her small form.

"I know, I know!" She laughs. Her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I just... it was too loud inside." That he can agree on. "Is it true?" She asks a few seconds later.

Simon stills. Choosing his next words carefully.

"What?"

"What Soap said." A heartbeat. "About us."

There's a silence that falls between them.

"Those were the words of a drunk man."

"Were they?" her smile is contagious. Damn her and her beautiful soul. "Would you come with me if I asked you to?"

He stares directly at her, trying to find any sign of doubt. He's always mesmerized by her gentle nature. That's something he never knew. Perhaps that's why he was so drawn to her. Longed to be wherever she was. Breathe the same air.

"I'd say that's highly inappropriate." He states. "And that you've had too many shots of whatever poor excuse of a whiskey Johnny made you drink."

"Price called it piss water." She shooks her head. "You're changing the subject!"

Simon chuckles. He really does.

"You've got such power over me no one else could ever have, kid."

And he's doomed.

He's trying so hard, going through the events of the night, trying to remember. What happened? Nothing out of line was said. She seemed content when they parted ways, right after he had kissed her good night outside her room. Simon saw the way her eyes lit up with a spark he never saw before. The longing stare. Remembers vividly how she had stopped him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down for another heated kiss.

He walks down the corridor with long strides. Hands balled into fists. He shouldn't be this mad. But that was the effect she had in him.

He tries to cool down. Ghost was scared too. What if she had changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with him? He was messing up his head at the mere thought.

He finally makes it to the room, knocking twice before her soft voice tells him he can come in.

Inside the room, all the curtains were closed, not a single ray of light made it inside apart from the lamp casting shadows around. Furrowing his brows he closes the door behind him with a low click.

"Kid?" He calls her. Immediately rolling on her side she welcomes him, red eyes, stuffy nose and looking disheveled.

"Sorry I missed training." She apologizes. Changing to a sitting position and waits for him to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" He demands with a soft voice. She's still wearing his hoodie from last night. Rubbing her eyes she gives Simon a tired smile.

"I'm just really sick Simon." She answers, he can hear her hoarse voice now.

"Bloody hell, love." His hand goes straight to her face, caressing her cheek. "Did you go to the infirmary?" Closing her eyes, she rest her head against his hand.

"Mhm. Got some painkillers prescribed. Still feel horrible."

"Good, it'll take some time for you to feel better. You need to rest, okay?". The look he gave her leaves no room for discussion.

"Wasn't planning on leaving my bed you know?" He smiles ever so slightly. "Would you stay with me?" When he doesn't answer right away she adds: "never mind you'll catch whatever this bug is and i don't ..."

"Sweetheart," he interrupts her rambling. "Scoot over."

She looks at him wide-eyed.

"You... you don't," she stutters.

"No, I don't mind at all. If there's anything you need just tell me, copy?" She nods, staring at his blue eyes. "Told you we shouldn't have been outside last night."

"Even if it meant catching a cold, I'm glad we did, Simon."

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #john price #john price x reader #cod konig #cod mw22

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highvern · 3 months

Text

When in Rome TEASER

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, penetrative sex, nudity, mentions of drug use, more tbd

Length: tbd, teaser: ~3k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to everyone who helped me brain storm and ofc @gyuswhore for dealing with the insanity that is my brain

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

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There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport.

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it.

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything.

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re Sofie’s maid of honor. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet.

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you.

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want.

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups.

It didn’t make sense.

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke.

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand.

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends.

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when Seungcheol texted a half hearted apology and you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it.

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow.

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God.

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling.

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console.

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind.

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church.

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach.

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, more akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here.

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out.

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing.

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table.

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes.

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's.

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side.

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily.

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.”

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin.

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart “don’t spend it all in one place,” you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal.

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but the last time Seungcheol saw him was last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.”

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “Seems like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.”

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes.

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces.

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck.

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text.”

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you’re not ready to tell him.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but then the boxes were packed away and the moving truck came and you left with it.

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. At least for the rest of the week.

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then he can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

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@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

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imyourbratzdoll · 3 months

Text

𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

part 6 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - demons lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to think you aren't good enough and it doesn't help that steve is ignoring you.

warning - bad thoughts, self-hate, mentions of cheating, angst, barely eating, emotionally drained, feeling like you aren't good enough.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 7

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

What if you and Steve were meant to part ways, only so that you could find each other again. What if you were destined for each other? But instead of being together now, you both needed to grow separately, and soon the two of you would meet again in the coming years when you were both ready.

You didn’t know who you were anymore. You were no longer the person you were before you met Johnny, and you weren’t exactly who you were when you were with him. You felt stuck and horrible. You hadn’t gotten better after the divorce, not even when Steve entered your life.

Somehow, you lit up his darkness and he silenced your mind. Around him, you felt as though you could finally breathe. But why couldn’t you relax?

Your eyes fluttered open as you woke from your slumber and you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a few weeks since you bumped into Steve and you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Steve helped you with your bags, placing them on your kitchen counter before he turned and looked around your place with a smile, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “You have a nice place, it suits you.” God, why could you two stare at each other and feel so connected, but then so awkward when trying to find something to talk about.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to help me.” You gesture towards the bags before you begin to unpack them, hoping that the cold products haven't warmed too much.

Steve waves you off. “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I wanted to help.” It felt so natural as he began to unpack the other bag, like this was your routine. The two of you moved so gracefully, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into its spot as you moved around the kitchen, putting things away.

Once you finished, your eyes locked onto Steve’s as he leant against the counter. “W–Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Water, please.” Did his voice get deeper? You felt like you could drop at any second with how he looked at you. You moved quickly, hands shaking slightly as you filled up a glass before handing it over to him. Steve grabs it gently from you, his fingers brushing against yours and sparks erupt at the touch, causing a soft gasp to escape you. “Thank you.”

You watched him drink, how could such a normal thing look so hot and sinful when he did it? His eyes never left yours, but yours left his when he moved the glass away from his mouth. You watched his tongue flick out as he collected the water that glistened against his lips. This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

You blink and clear your throat, quickly moving away from him before you do something you may regret. Steve moves over to the sink, washing the glass for you before putting it away. Your mouth hangs open slightly, not even Johnny did that. You would always have to clean up after him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop comparing the two!

But they look so alike… You can’t help but think. It was strange.

You shake your head from your thoughts as Steve touches your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You hum. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You felt like you were suffocating, like this was all a dream. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake from it. You let out a shuddering breath as you stare into Steve’s eyes, you could see concern swirling around. “I’m okay. I just got lost in my thoughts.”

Steve nods as if he understands, and the weirdest thing was that every thought seemed to disappear as his hand brushed against your hip. Neither of you could deny the pull, and it scared the hell out of you.

You barely knew Steve, and yet you felt so safe with him. You nearly cried as he pulled away, stepping back, his hand now falling to his side. His phone didn’t go off, but he pulled it out. “I have to go, my friend messaged me.” He gestured to his phone, and you felt your heart sink. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe deep down all men really were the same. Be it in friend, brother, father, or lover form. It was a curse that no woman could seem to break. “It was lovely to see you again, and if you ever need me. I’m right across from you.” He gave a smile so fake that you wanted to believe it to be real. And then he left, leaving you to stand there as your thoughts crashed into you.

You blink tiredly from the memory.

Maybe he got scared as well. Maybe he had his own demons, one in the form of an ex. Your chest tightened at the thought of him with someone else, and then you sighed.

He’s not yours, idiot. He never will be, so stop being so pathetic.

You groan, your thoughts have become meaner lately. You slide out of bed and head over to your closet, scratching your head as you stare at your clothes. Your lip turns as you don’t like anything you see, maybe this would be a good time to have a day to yourself. Well, technically everyday now is to yourself because you left your husband after catching him fucking your best friend.

Your nose scrunches as the image of them fucking pops up into your head. They were your own demons that would possibly forever haunt you.

You grab some jeans, a plain black shirt and underwear before heading into your bathroom. As you place your things down onto the bathroom counter, your eyes catch your reflection, and it was like death was staring back at you. It seemed the physical toll had slipped from your attention, you had thought you were doing okay aside from the nasty thoughts. Sure, you didn’t eat as often, but it wasn’t because you were starving yourself. You just hadn’t been as hungry, anytime you would go to eat, those two would pop up into your head and your appetite would disappear.

You stripped before slipping under the water. Now you understood why Steve would avoid you like the plague whenever you bumped into him in the hallway.

You hated this stupid pull that you kept feeling, it was like a constant tugging. It kept trying to pull you in the direction of Steve, like somehow it knew he was close and craved him to be near you. You wished you could grab some scissors and cut the cord that was attaching you to him. Maybe then he could be free of you, free of the burden you seemed to carry.

You shoved your head underwater, wanting these thoughts to disappear. Maybe taking you along with them. You stand under the shower for a bit longer before slowly getting out and drying yourself off. You don’t dare look in the mirror in fear of what you would see. You hurriedly dress yourself and walk out of the room, grabbing your shoes and bag.

As you exit your apartment, you are met with Steve leaving his. Your eyes widen for a split second before you quickly look down and walk away, not caring that you didn’t lock your door. You didn’t want to burden him with your presence. When you’ve made quite a distance between the two of you, you let out a deep sigh.

Was this how it was going to be for you? Forever cursed from love and happiness?

You were going to be okay. You had to be.

Steve watched with a saddened look as you walked away. He knew he was being an arse, he didn’t mean to, really. It was just that anytime he was around you, or thinking about you, he would feel this intense feeling wash over him. Steve had felt those feelings the first time he bumped into you and then the second two years later. He was scared, scared that he may end up hurting you. Of course, he didn’t know he was already doing that.

You walked through the doors of a local second-hand shop, a place you generally enjoyed shopping at. You head straight towards the clothing section, beginning to flick through.

“Wanda! Did I tell you the news about Steve?” Without meaning to, your ears perk up at the name. You knew it could be a possibility that it was another Steve, but subconsciously you listened in.

You had heard that voice before, though. You just didn’t know where from…

“No, what about him?” You pick out a few pieces of clothing as you listen in.

“He finally found someone! He met her once before, but they ran into each other again!” A tug at your heart, even though the person might not be your Steve. “He constantly spoke about her even when he didn’t even know her, now that has doubled. You remember right?”

The other woman hums. “Oh yeah, isn’t that why everyone teases him?”

You round the corner, eyes widening a bit when you spot the woman talking. She was the same one from when you had bumped into Steve the first time. Your heart tugs like crazy because you knew this couldn’t be you, they were talking about. Steve had been ignoring you, so why would he talk about you to his friends?

Natasha looks up as she’s about to reply and you immediately look down, pretending you are looking through the clothes in your arms. You don’t see her nudge the woman next to her, gesturing to you or the fact that they are now approaching until it’s too late.

“Hi. I know you.” You look up surprised. Natasha smiles teasingly. “You’re Steve’s girl!”

You shake your head, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Uh no… I’m not his girl…” You stumble slightly. “I—I know him! But uh, we aren’t…” You gulp, this was painful.

The women smile. “Okay, you aren’t his girl now. But you will be!” Wanda replied, a giant grin on her face. “Oh, sorry! Hi, I’m Wanda!”

“Y/n, and I don’t think so. Steve and I aren’t even friends.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip, needing someone to talk to about this, but you didn’t have any friends… You also didn’t know if you could trust having a friend again. You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

Natasha’s brows furrow, “Wait, don’t you guys live across from each other?” You nod, “And you don’t talk?” You shake your head.

“Dumbarse” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry about Steve. He’s made it sound like you guys were close.” Natasha facepalms. “I am so going to kick his arse when I see him.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” You try to fake a smile, but it feels like they can see through it.

Wanda grins. “Why don’t you join us? We can forget about men and just shop!”

You made it back to your apartment after spending the day with Wanda and Natasha, you hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As you hit the last step, your head lifts and your eyes connect with those beautiful blue ones. You feel your throat dry and your stomach twist.

“Y/n…” You slowly move forward, berating yourself for allowing your heart to feel something for him. You were already so broken, why did you think anyone could love you. Your gaze flickers to the bouquet of flowers in his hands, noticing how they shake slightly. Maybe he had a date and wasn’t expecting you to show as he was leaving.

You continue to walk, hoping to slide past him and into the safety of your home. Even though it felt so lonely inside. Steve reaches out, grasping your arm gently, causing you to stop and look at him. Neither of you can ignore the spark that lights from your touch. Unable to ignore the pull anymore, it felt as though time had stilled as you once again locked eyes.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been an arse.” Steve frowns, all of the negative feelings he’s been feeling have finally come crashing down on him.

You shake your head, giving another one of your fake smiles. “You don’t have to apologise, Steve. It’s not like we were friends or anything, you don’t need to be nice to me.”

His hold on you tightens slightly, Steve wonders who the hell hurt you to make you think that. He stares deeply into your eyes, hoping that you can see he’s telling the truth. “I do. Because I am sorry. You didn’t deserve me ignoring you, especially if you think it has anything to do with you. I was in the wrong, and I’d like to make it up to you if you allow me.”

Another choice for you to make. One where it could go incredibly well or one you would regret forever.

You stare at him for a few seconds, trying to find a sliver of a lie. Your gaze moves down, and you look at the flowers. “I got these for you… I didn’t want to apologise empty–handed.”

And like that, your demons quietened. “I’ve never received flowers before…” His love roared louder than your demons, silencing them.

You looked back up at him and made your choice.

The gravitational pull between you had become stronger, finally feeling like it was ready. It seemed the universe and all the galaxies had a talk and said,

“Yeah, It’s time.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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queenxxxsupreme · 2 months

Text

Before the Storm

(Remy Lebeau x reader)

A/N: This is just a super tiny little drabble because I wanted to get a feel for Gambit’s character. Please if any of it (or all of it) seems out of character for him, let me know. I just wanna do this man some justice

Warnings: cigarettes and alcohol, a little bit of angst but mostly fluff

Summary: It’s the night before the ragtag group of forgotten heroes goes to fight Cassandra Nova, and you share a little moment with your Gambit.

“What took you so long, mon coeur?” Remy spoke from where he was laid out across the bed. To even call it a bed was probably an overstatement. It was just a mattress on the floor, but it was all you had in the Hell that was quite literally the Void.

“Had to find a good bottle.” You held up a bottle of rum.

”Why, I think that’s a fine choice, Miss Y/L/N.” He grinned just a little, then beckoned you over with a wave of his hand.

You kicked off your boots before climbing into the bed. Remy adjusted himself so that he was leaning against the wall. You made yourself comfortable, tucking yourself under his arm.

You twisted the bottle of rum open and took a swig of the sharp alcohol, then passed the bottle to him.

“How do you think tomorrow is going to go, Remy?” You spoke quietly, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I don’t know. But I do know one thing for sure, mon coeur. It ain’t gonna be pretty.”

You shifted yourself around so that you could see his face better.

“You got a smoke?” You asked him. He reached behind him on the bed, blindly feeling for wherever he had set the pack of cigarettes down last.

Remy picked up the box and flicked it open, holding it out for you to take one.

“Thanks, mon amour.” You took the cigarette from him and placed it between your lips. You dug around in the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a lighter. You lit the cigarette before tossing the lighter down on to the bed.

“Are you scared, Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet, almost like he was afraid to even ask the question.

”Yeah, Remy. I am.” You admitted, blowing the smoke from your lips. He took the cigarette from you to take a hit of it. ”We’ve never gone up against Cassandra Nova before. We just fight her little pawns and stay as far away from their territory as possible.”

”It’s gonna be real interestin’. That’s for sure.” The smoke that left his lips as he spoke fanned over your face. You leaned further into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Your fingers wrapped around the glass bottle of alcohol and you took a sip. “Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

”You ain’t losin’ me no time soon, mon coeur.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Just don’t go doin’ anythin’ stupid tomorrow.”

”Me?” You raised an eyebrow and turned your head so you could admire his features. “Honey, we both know I’m not the one going and doing stupid things on a whim. That’s all you and Johnny’s bad influence.”

He chuckled quietly, bringing his arm that was behind you around your shoulders to pull you close enough so he could seal a kiss on your cheek.

“I miss that fella, Y/N.” The smile that had been on his lips slowly faded.

“I know. Me too.” You took the cigarette from Remy and put it between your lips. “We’ll do it for him, and all the others.”

“To Johnny.” Remy lifted the bottle of rum up as if to toast his dear friend.

“You think we have a chance at beating her, Remy?”

“I think that whatever does happen tomorrow, we’ll be just fine, mon coeur.”

#Remy Lebeau x reader #Remy Lebeau fic #Remy Lebeau fluff #Remy Lebeau #the gambit #gambit #gambit x reader #Channing Tatum #queenxxxsupreme

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teapartyprincess4two · 7 months

Text

Bad Day- J. Guilbert

pairing: girlfriend!reader x boyfriend!Johnnie

classification: slight angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, established relationship, Jake and Tara are dating in this, short

inspiration: request

summary: Johnnie is the moon and you’re the sun, always bright, bubbly and energetic. Nobody believes that someone as positive as you can ever have a bad day, but when you do Johnnie is ready to comfort you through it.

—

Everyone has that one friend who is the personification of sunshine, that one friend that always seems to have a smile on their face and holds a positive attitude no matter what. This said friend is always the shoulder for others to cry on, the helping hand in a time of need, and the person everyone seeked for advice. In your friend group you were that friend. You were loved by everyone and loved everyone. So, it comes as no surprise that your friends have never seen you in a bad mood and have never known you to have a bad day.

But, contrary to popular belief, you are no stranger to a bad day. In fact, you have more bad days than you let on, usually masking your anger or sadness with a smile. Johnnie has always been able to read you though, he knows when you’re actually happy and when you’re putting on a facade, whether it be for your friends or for the cameras.

Today was one of those odd days when everything was just going wrong, you just couldn’t seem to catch a break. First, your alarm didn’t go off, causing you to wake up late. If it wasn’t for how hot it was in your room, you would’ve never woken up. You were sweating so much that you felt gross and sticky, but because you woke up late, you had less time to get ready which meant you didn’t even have time to shower. So, you were forced to rush to your dental appointment looking extremely tired, flustered, and greasy.

Once you finally arrived at the dental office, you tried to calm down, you were trying to have a positive outlook in hopes that your bad luck might turn around. But, while the dentist was doing your routine check-up, he found a total of 3 cavities in your mouth. According to the dentist, the cavities were so bad that if you didn’t get emergency fillings your tooth was sure to rot to the bone. You exhaled deeply, wishing all the negative thoughts away, and proceeding with an unexpected procedure. Then, as if your luck couldn’t get any worse, your insurance didn’t cover the emergency fillings, causing you to pay money out of pocket you hadn’t budgeted for.

On your way home it was just one thing after another. You turned the car on, only for it to be low on gas. ‘Not a big deal,’ you thought, praying that this is where your bad luck ended. While pumping gas, though, you stepped in a big puddle of water that got into your shoes and seeped into your socks. You tried not to let it bother you, especially since you’d be home soon, but you were only human.

After such a bad morning, you decide to buy yourself a treat, opting for McDonalds because it was the closest, cheapest thing around. You pulled up to the drive through, using the cheeriest tone you could muster, only to be slapped in the face by the worst customer service experience ever. Normally you wouldn’t have read too much into the situation, but considering you’ve had a pretty bad day so far, it was all just adding up. After paying for and receiving your food, you realized that half of your order was missing. You hated having to be the annoying customer that storms into the restaurant with a receipt in hand, but after the day you’ve had this was the one thing you couldn’t to let slide.

You walk into the restaurant, one hand cradling the bag of food, the other holding onto the receipt as you waited patiently to be acknowledged by at least one employee. You must’ve waited 15 minutes before someone finally noticed you, giving you the blankest stare as they asked, “Can I help you?” If this would’ve happened on any other day, you would’ve completely understood and sympathized with the employee for disliking their job, but you’re so on edge right now that even this seems like a big deal. “Hi, yes. I’m missing a few item-“ you put on your best customer service voice, but before you can even finish your sentence the employee is cutting you off by talking to someone through their headset, “some lady says she’s missing stuff from her order?”

Great, this was sure to become a bigger deal than it had to be. Someone must’ve told the employee what to say over the headset because she asks, “you have the receipt?” You hold the receipt up, but they don’t let you speak before they’re snatching it away and grabbing your bag too. At this point you’re wondering if the chicken nuggets are worth the trouble, should you just quit while you’re ahead and go home?

In the end you ended up getting your missing items, but you were already so frustrated by that point that it didn’t even matter anymore. The manager ended up getting involved, claiming you received everything in your order. She fought with you, raised her voice and got unreasonably upset while you tried to keep your cool, but one can only take so much. You didn’t want to, but you ended up raising your voice too because she wasn’t listening to reason, she never even checked your bag to see if everything was in there. Overall it was just a terrible situation that drained you both socially and emotionally.

After an encounter like that, most people would feel proud for having stood their ground, but you felt like screaming and crying. You weren’t a confrontational person, in fact you always tried keeping a positive attitude even in stressful situations to avoid situations like this. So now you’re walking out of the restaurant with your head held high as to not show weakness, but your spirit was so low it was practically hitting the floor. As soon as you were in your car and away from judgmental eyes, you were crying. Everything just kept adding up and even though nothing majorly tragic happened to you today, it just became too much to bare.

You’re leaning against the steering wheel, trying to calm down before you start driving home, but all you can think about is the horrible day you’ve had. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up under a blanket, hiding yourself from the world until you were ready to crawl back out. The emotions were so intense that you weren’t even hungry anymore. And to top it off, you were expecting visitors today who were probably already waiting for you at your house. All you could do was hope Johnnie would keep them busy while you dissociated in your room for a while.

You took a deep breath, shutting your eyes tightly and willing the tears away. “It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper, your voice coming out shaky as you try reassuring yourself that this isn’t the end of the world. Finally you pull out of the parking lot, mentally preparing yourself for the rest of the day.

—

Johnnie, Jake, and Tara are all hanging out in your living room. When you arrived home they were watching a scary movie, a common occurrence in your friend group. You all usually chilled at home, opting for cozy nights in over loud, hectic nights out. Johnnie saved a spot for you, complete with your favorite blanket, a bag of popcorn, and a cold drink. You trudged inside, plopping the bag of food on the kitchen counter before making a quick appearance in the living room.

Everyone was excited to see you, they always were, and although you were excited to see them too, you just greeted them quickly before retreating to your room. Usually you’d be extremely bubbly, obnoxiously hugging everyone and immediately cuddling up to Johnnie. So, when you offered everyone a meek wave, Johnnie knew something was wrong.

Johnnie immediately picked up on the way your shoulders slumped and your feet dragged along the floor. He noticed that there was an underlying red tint in your eyes, they were glossed over from the tears you previously shed. Your shoes were wet and muddy, your face was swollen from the dental appointment, and your usual smile was replaced by a small frown. You just looked drained, and that was unusual for someone who was usually bouncing off the walls with energy.

Yours and Johnnie’s personality difference was one of the greatest defining factors in your relationship. Where he was more laid back and mysterious, you were energetic and outgoing. Of course he wasn’t shy, but he was extremely reserved in unfamiliar situations, while you were always ready to dive in head first no matter the scenario.

The movie plays lowly in the background, the soft light from the tv illuminating the dark room just enough for everyone’s faces to be visible. You’ve been home for an hour at this point, but you haven’t come out of your room since. Even Jake and Tara have noticed, all three of them murmuring about what could possibly be wrong. You were the light of the group, if you were sad then everyone was sad. “Do you think she’s sick?” Tara asks, sending Johnnie a worried look.

“I don’t know, probably,” Jake says with a shrug before Johnnie can respond, Jake always did a good job of being acutely unaware of everything.

“I was asking Johnnie,” Tara replies with an eye roll, scoffing before pausing the movie. “She went to the dentist today, maybe she’s just tired,” Johnnie finally says, trying to think of any and every reason you could be sad.

Tara hums in response, satisfied with Johnnie’s answer. It seemed logical enough, most people were usually tired after dental appointments, especially when they had emergency work done. Tara presses play on the movie, leaning into Jake again as she tries getting comfy. Johnnie tries focusing on the movie, watching as the characters on the screen run away from the whatever’s chasing them, but with each scene change his mind goes crazy. What could have you so upset?

He looks over at Jake and Tara, they’re cuddled up under a blanket as they share a bag of popcorn. That’s when Johnnie realizes that not only does he feel like a third wheel, but he should be comforting you instead of sitting here barely paying attention to a movie.

“Let me go check on her,” Johnnie says abruptly, throwing the blanket on his lap to the side and standing from the couch. Jake and Tara watch in confusion as he disappears down the hallway before averting their attention back to the movie.

Even though it’s Johnnie’s room too, he knocks on the door softly before walking in. “Y/n?” his voice is hushed, not wanting to scare or startle you incase you’re asleep. The room is pitch black and quiet, the only light coming from your phone. You’re rolled over on your side, scrolling aimlessly on TikTok in search of something that’ll make you feel better. So far, nothing’s worked.

You hear him but you don’t respond, so he tries again, “Baby?” He slowly walks over to the bed, pulling up the covers and crawling in next to you. Usually you’d melt into his touch, but as he wraps an arm around you, you just continue scrolling on your phone. Johnnie doesn’t take it personally though because he knows that this isn’t how you usually act, “you okay?” He feathers a finger over your face, brushing the stray hair out of the way as he kisses your cheek.

That kiss is enough to bring the emotions flooding back again, causing you to scrunch your face and immediately begin crying. A small, downturned smile forms on Johnnie’s face as he pulls you into him. It’s such a sad sight to see you cry, but he’s happy that you’re comfortable enough to let it all go in front of him. He knows that it takes a lot to make you this upset and he’s ready to listen for as long as you need him to, “wanna talk about it?”

You sniffle, rubbing the tears away aggressively as you mumble, “God, I feel so pathetic right now.” There was nothing pathetic about being sad, everyone has bad days and it’s normal to cry every once in a while, but you couldn’t help but feel silly. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“There’s people with real problems in this world, though… I just feel so stupid for letting today drain me,” you whisper, rolling over so you’re facing Johnnie. He takes in your appearance; your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen. Your eyelashes are so wet they’re webbed together, each blink leaving a trail of tears on your cheeks. Johnnie gingerly wipes the tears away, placing a quick kiss on your nose.

“Just tell me about your day, it’ll make you feel better,” he replies, chuckling a little at your attempt to deter your feelings and defer the conversation. You inhale deeply, slowly nodding your head as you prepare to verbally relive the horrible day you had. You retell the day’s events, including every single detail from your trip to the dentist to your encounter with the angry McDonald’s manager. “What a bitch,” Johnnie grumbles, shaking his head.

You immediately feel better, but still not well enough to emerge from your dark cave to hangout with your friends. “Feel better?” Johnnie asks, a genuine smile playing on his face. You smile back for the first time since you woke up today, “a little.”

“Good,” he places a kiss on your lips, allowing your lips to mould together. The impromptu make-out session is sweet and innocent, serving as a reminder that Johnnie is always here to comfort you through the hard times and that you’re allowed to have a bad day or two.

“Can we just stay here for a little bit?” you ask, cuddling into Johnnie’s chest and letting his heartbeat begin to lull you to sleep. He hums in response, pulling you in closer and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You fall asleep, feeling like the bad day you had no longer mattered.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

hope this comforting, fluffy Johnnie fic warms everyone’s hearts

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 🎀✨

#teapartyanonreqs✨💗#johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert <3 #johnnie guilbert x y/n #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake and johnnie #Johnnie one shot #Johnnie guilbert oneshot #Johnnie guilbert angst

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zablife · 3 months

Text

I'll Never Learn

Benny Cross x gf reader

Benny Cross Masterlist

Summary: Benny's always taking off without warning so Kathy advises you to break up with him and move on with your life. When he returns from his latest trip, you have a decision to make.

Warnings: physical argument (Benny would never hurt you, don't worry), angst with a fluffy ending

The evening shadows were creeping over the houses along your quiet street, reminding you another day had passed without a word from Benny. You stubbed out your cigarette before turning to face another dinner for one in front of the television. By now the familiarity of the routine had almost numbed you to the aching loneliness, but not quite.

Just when you thought you'd forgotten him, there were always little reminders of Benny somewhere, like the back of the kitchen drawer when you searched for a spatula this morning. You'd sobbed over a matchbox from the bar where you'd met Benny, fingertips lingering over the raised print as Kathy passed you the mixing bowl along with some well-meaning advice.

"I hate to say it, honey, but he's not worth it. I mean, he's out there doin' God knows what. Should be here with you once in awhile, right? With all you do for him," she shook her head, indicating toward the pots and pans.

"Find a man who's gonna treat ya right. It's the least ya deserve after puttin' up with this nonsense for a year," she said, patting your hand sympathetically.

You allowed the memory to float away with the lingering smoke, fingers closing around the edge of the front door when you heard it. The unmistakable rumble of an engine rattling the glass in the windows and the fragile heart you were trying so desperately to heal. Taking a deep breath to quell the ache in your chest, you found a flame of rage catching fire instead of the passion that you used to feel upon his return.

Whipping around to face your boyfriend, you found him at the steps, staring up at you with a sheepish grin.

"I'm home, baby," he announced softly, waiting for you to fall into his arms. Those faded baby blues trained on you in hopes of forgiveness you'd given so many times before, but this time you couldn't, the words Kathy had said hours earlier ringing in your ears.

"Benny, don't," you warned him, holding up your hand to stop him from giving whatever bullshit excuse was going to tumble from his lips next. Leaving him standing on the porch with a look of confusion creasing his brow, you stormed inside to gather your things.

His hesitation only lasted a moment before taking the stairs two at a time to run after you into the house. As his foot collided with your suitcase, his voice swelled with urgency, your name echoing off the walls. Bewildered at the sight, he uttered, "You're leavin'?"

"I can't do this anymore Benny," you informed him, hands crossed over your chest as you stared blankly at the floor.

"Do what?" he asked mindlessly, only catching on when your gaze shifted to the door. "You're mad cause I took a ride?" he asked incredulously. "Johnny asked me to--" he began defensively, but you weren't in the mood.

"While I'm here?" you shouted, the frustration building inside you as he stepped closer.

"Where else would you be, darlin'?" he asked with a nervous laugh, never having seen you like this before. He was on edge, unsure how to take this sudden turn in your behavior.

Blood now boiling after his flippant response, you looked up at him with fire in your eyes.

"I'm always here waiting for you to come back" you fumed, throwing up your hands as you added "....or not." Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you willed them not to fall as you explained, "I need somethin' more. I want you home from now on."

There it was, the ultimatum you'd been afraid to give before. After all, you weren't married, but if he wanted you in his life, this was how it would have to be.

Benny stood so still, you could scarcely tell if he was breathing. He blinked back at you slowly, nostrils flaring as he growled, "You can't tell a man somethin' like that. Look at Betty. She don't tell Johnny what to do!"

"Well I'm not Betty!" you retorted.

"You sure ain't," he seemed to agree, breathing out a heavy sigh as he turned away.

"You're an asshole," you seethed, pacing to the kitchen. "Kathy was right, you don't appreciate me and you never have."

Catching sight of the chocolate cake you decorated with little cherries on top, something inside you snapped.

"You don't care about anything!" Without another word, you reached for the cake plate at your elbow and threw it against the wall. Flinching as it shattered, Benny's hands grasped your shoulders to keep your arm from reaching the stack of plates next to it.

As you struggled, you fell to your knees, dangerously close to the broken shards that glistened under the fluorescent lighting. Benny pulled you up as you hissed out a warning.

"Get off me," you spat through clenched teeth, a look of fury in your eyes, but his muscular arms had already encircled you. Thrashing against him, you bucked and kicked at him, but he was too strong for you.

"Stop fightin' me," he barked, backing you away from the shattered glass to the adjacent wall. You couldn't hear anything except the sound of rushing blood in your ears and your own labored breathing as he pinned you against the peeling wallpaper. His right knee wedged between your legs and his hip dug into yours as he brought your arms above your head to immobilize you.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, close enough for the reverberations to carry through to Benny. It was then he truly saw the pain beneath your eyes as hot, heavy tears collected along your lash line.

"Baby...baby, please, don't," he pleaded, face pinched in anguish. For a moment you thought a tear might trickle down his cheek as well.

"Is this wh-what we are now?" you asked with quivering lip. "Two people who can't even talk to each other without a fight?"

He drew in a deep breath to steady himself, head shaking softly before he could find the words to reassure you. Then his voice rumbled up from his chest in the soothing way you knew and loved.

"We're not like that and we never will be," he promised, eyes piercing into your soul with such earnestness, you ceased all movement under him.

Relinquishing the tight grasp he held on your wrists, he rocked back, allowing you to drop your hands to your sides as he cast his eyes downward.

"Kathy was right, you know, I don't deserve you," he said, voice dripping with guilt. He reached out slowly for your left hand, sliding his fingers between yours as he admitted, "You're too precious for a man like me."

"Oh, Benny," you sighed, chin tilted toward the ceiling tiles. He could be charming when he wanted to be and that had always been your downfall.

"But Kathy don't know anything about the way I love you." He murmured, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand reverently. "You mean everything to me and I'm gonna show you." His touch was so gentle, you could have closed your eyes and slumbered there in peace, forgetful of all the days before, yet something deep inside still tugged at you.

"I want to believe you, but you make it so hard sometimes," you admitted, chewing your bottom lip nervously. He tilted his head to listen carefully as you poured your heart out to him.

"You don't know what it's like to worry day and night if I'm ever gonna see you again. And I don't know if it's because you're hurt or in jail or..." you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat "or if you just don't love me anymore."

He ran a hand through your hair, large palm resting at the nape of your neck as he nodded in understanding. "M so sorry I ever made you think that."

You fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket as he said something you hadn't expected to hear. "That's over now, alright? No more."

"What did you say?" you exclaimed, eyes shooting up to meet his.

"No more takin' off. I want to be here with you. If you'll stay too?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at your suitcase with trepidation.

Your eyes followed his to the bag, staring for a long moment as you considered your decision. However, if you were honest with yourself, you'd already made up your mind. "I'll never learn," you muttered under your breath.

"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully, leaning into your gentle nod to steal a kiss.

#the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders imagine #benny cross #benny cross fanfiction #benny cross imagine #benny cross x reader #benny cross x you #benny cross x y/n #Austin Butler

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