#Dark childhood best friend!Johnny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnbar-bun · 5 months ago

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The Chain I

Relationship: Johnny Joestar x GN!Reader, minor Diego Brando x GN!Reader

Prompt: "Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies / Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light."

Summary: You've known each other for so long, ever since you were kids. But after he's become so unrecognizable, you have to wonder if being chained to him is worth it anymore.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: Childhood friends to haters to lovers later, no spoilers for part 7, BUT mentions of death/spoilers of Johnny's backstory. Slight love triangle for this chapter, Johnny being a major douche, angry fight at the end, minor swearing. This chapter takes place pre-part 7.

Taglist (message me or fill out the form in the pinned to be added!): @gingernut1314 @adeadcreator @starr-l1ghtt

Read on my AO3 here!

A/n: I got nothing to say besties I love causing Johnny pain!!!!

“Nicholas, Johnny, remember that I have a guest coming over today. Can I ask that both of you remain on your best behavior?” George said sternly, a subtle warning that if the two acted up, there would be consequences to pay for it. The two boys agreed, back straight as they awaited the ‘guest’.

George exhaled and uncrossed his arms. “You two will not need to be in the study when they come by. My friend has a young child, around your age, Johnny. I expect that you two will treat them properly.”

George didn’t wait for a response, walking away to prepare himself. Nicholas and Johnny glanced at each other, wide, eager smiles on their face as they thought about who they’d see.

When the ‘guests’ finally arrived, Johnny momentarily forgot his manners, ignoring the man and instead glancing for the child George talked about. When his blue eyes landed on yours, something within him stirred, as if he was magnetized to you.

He ran to you, grabbing your hands in his, and gave a toothy grin. “I’m Johnny! What’s your name?”

Johnny could never explain why he was so drawn to you. You, likewise, never stood a chance against a fate when it came to Johnny. You two were practically attached at the hip, almost never seen without the other.

Johnny (but mostly Nicholas) was the one who taught you how to secretly ride a horse whenever you visited the estate. You taught Johnny different plants he should avoid and what was edible after he had a mishap with poison ivy. Johnny liked getting lost in the forest with you. You liked staying up at night and pointing out different constellations with him from your book.

“That’s a shooting star!” Johnny yelled, shooting upright and pressing his finger against the glass window.

“What? Really?” You squinted.

“Yeah, but you missed it, slowpoke,” he rolled his eyes as he flicked your forehead.

“I’m not slow…”

“And yet you’re always last when it comes to racing,” Johnny smugly pronounced. “What are we at? 1000 - 0?”

“Ugh, you’re a jerk,” you huffed. “Now, you saw a shooting star. You gotta make a wish.”

“Oh, right,” he said as he turned around to the face the night sky. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did it. I wished we’d be friends forever.”

“Johnny!” You shouted. “You can’t tell me that, now it won’t come true!”

“Don’t tell me you believe that old thing,” he snorted. “Come on, you know it’s not true.”

“But what if it is? Now we might not be friends.”

Johnny glanced back at you and sighed before he took his seat back on his bed next to you. “Nah. I know we will be friends forever. Even my dad thinks you’re part of the family now.”

“But how do we really know?” You asked anxiously. Johnny tapped his chin and shrugged.

“Guess we don’t. But I’m not gonna believe a dumb superstition. We’re a team, right?” He insisted, putting his pinkie out to you. You felt yourself ease up at his confidence and wrapped your pinkie around his.

“Yeah, a team.” He smiled proudly at your words.

He had no reason in his mind to think of anything else. The four years you two had known each other had to have solidified your bond for life. His luck may have been strange, but you were a constant in his life. That wasn’t changing anytime soon.

You both should have known it was the beginning of end. At the age of 9, you and Johnny stood by Nicholas’s coffin. Johnny had clung to you, sobbing that it was all his fault, that he was the reason Nicholas died. If only he had just drowned Danny like George asked, if only he just listened, then Nicholas would still be there.

He was fundamentally changed by Nicholas’s death. Why wouldn’t he be? That was his dear brother. You had grown to see Nicholas as an older brother as well, the type of good-natured sibling who made sure you and Johnny were happy. But Johnny was not Nicholas.

You knew that. Johnny knew that. Most of all, George knew that.

But Johnny kept continuing to go back on his horse, insisting he was fine, demanding you stop asking how he was. He was good. He would race. He would make George proud. He would honor Nicholas through his racing.

Johnny devoted so much time to racing, as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, in his mind, but you were still there, watching. You would read quietly by the small bench as Johnny lectured his horse for not jumping as high over the hurdle today. You would do your schoolwork while Johnny timed himself again and again, practicing lap after lap. Sometimes, Diego Brando would come to you and start a conversation with you.

Johnny wouldn’t pay attention, too busy fixing the reins of his horse to care. And you, who really didn’t have much else besides him, hated seeing your best friend so hurt. So you would wait, as usual.

“Do you think I’ll be able to make my dad proud?” Johnny mulls one evening as you both drink on the hill you two frequented as kids.

“I think you will,” you begin. “I think he’s proud of you now.”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.”

You pursed your lips and took another sip. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

It only seemed to get worse from there. Johnny would make time for you infrequently, still trying to keep up the idea of you being his ‘best friend’ to those around him. You didn’t know which you’d rather deal with at this point; his total silence towards you while hordes of girls and celebrities flocked to him, or his half-hearted attempt at clinging to the friendship you two had. Both killed you inside, and despite knowing deep down that you should cut your losses, you still stuck around.

You stuck around when he asked for you to cover for him while he was out drinking with some friends. You stuck around when he made you do the group project by yourself because some rich governor wanted to meet him later. You stuck around when he didn’t say a word as a ‘friend’ of his made fun of you for being so clingy towards Johnny like a lost puppy.

You knew you shouldn’t have stuck around for that. You knew you deserved better.

But that stupid, stupid part of you that yearned for Johnny to just treat you like he did before always won out over logic. That ridiculous voice inside you said that being hurt by Johnny was better than no Johnny at all. Because Johnny was your best friend, your first friend.

Johnny was a lot of your firsts, in fact. He was not only your first friend, but the one who first taught you to ride a horse, the one you first slept over with, the one you did your first trip with, and your first kiss when you two tried to copy what you saw a couple do as kids. Scarily enough, he was not only those things, but he was also your first love. You stupidly fell in love with your childhood best friend. Like a damn cliche, you fell for him, never recognizing that the warmth you felt for him went just beyond friends.

But it was too late to even confess this, as he had already was on his third girlfriend of the month, never sparing you a glance beyond a ‘thanks’ for doing his work. You would be foolish enough to try, but naive you that wished for everything under the sun for just a chance with Johnny still stayed. Maybe one day he’d wake up and recognize the people that encircled him after his race didn’t care. Maybe one day he’d notice that you were still there, cheering him on for his races, even as he came in second almost every time. Maybe, maybe, maybe, that foolish wish he made under the star would come true and you’d stay friends forever.

Like always, you sat on the bench by the training grounds of the estate, reading for the upcoming test you would have soon, that Johnny would likely want you to summarize for him and his buddies. You heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t stop reading.

“Johnny, what do you-”

“Me? Johnny? Please. I thought you’d know better than that by now to compare me to him,” a smug voice reproached you. You looked up in confusion before noticing the cocky stature of none other than Diego Brando.

“Oh… Diego. Do you want me to leave?” You asked, beginning to pack up your things. Diego only ever made casual conversation with you after all these years, so you had no clue why he was walking up to you so suddenly.

“Hm, no. I just couldn’t help but notice that Joestar boy left you alone again.”

You rolled your eyes as Diego taunted you. “If that’s all you came here to tell me, you can leave. I don’t need to hear that from you.”

“So sensitive. You’re beginning to resemble a cornered dog.”

“Diego, enough. Seriously. Just leave me alone if you have nothing nice to say,” you glared.

“If that’s what you wish. I was going to offer you a chance to go for a ride with me, but if I am so horrible that you don’t even wish to talk to me, then I’ll be on my merry way. Goodbye, maybe that Joestar will throw you a bone one day,” Diego sneered as he turned around and waved his hand.

“Huh? Wait!” You shot up and followed after him. “Why are you offering that to me?”

“Must I explain it to you?” “I would like you to.”

“Hah. No,” he deadpanned. “And look at you, already following after me. It seems you can’t help but listen to those more powerful than you.”

“I’m not doing it because-”

“I don’t really care,” Diego replied, throwing on the saddle for his horse and fitting it properly. “Would you like to come, or not?”

Johnny despised Diego more than anything. He’d be furious if he knew you were even talking to him. Diego sensed your hesitation, sighing dramatically and extending his hand to you. “If you want to go waiting around like a lost sheep for that boy, by all means, go ahead. I’m offering you a horseback ride, not a marriage proposal.”

Within an instant, you threw your reservations away and gripped his hand, letting him help you onto the saddle. He was right. Johnny was busy elsewhere and this was just a simple ride around the estate. Why should you care what Johnny thought now?

Diego snorted in amusement as your brows furrowed, but didn’t make another comment, instead, snapping the reins of the horse against it, causing the horse to begin galloping.

For the first time in a while, you had an enjoyable evening. You simply basked in the wind as Diego expertly maneuvered the horse around. It didn’t take much before you two began talking to each other, pleasantly surprised by how Diego was talking to you when Johnny was not around. It was like seeing a whole new side to the genius jockey that he rarely ever showed before.

Soon, though, he took the horse back to the stable and promptly helped you off. You were about to collect your bearings and go when he spoke once more to you as he was rummaging through a box of supplies for tending to his horse.

“You should really stand up for yourself for once.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Are you really going to let that boy trample you all over every day? Come on. It’s pathetic to witness. Even I felt bad seeing you like that,” he replied in an even tone. While his words were harsh, it lacked his usual mocking tone.

“I don’t need your pity, Diego,” you stiffened, knowing he had a point.

“I know you don’t need it. What you really need is a spine. Too bad all the money in the world can’t afford you that,” he commented. “Oh well. It’s not my place. But if you get tired of being that boy’s little mule, you can come to me. I’d be happy to have you as a cheerleader for me.”

He looked you in the eyes this time. Instead of a haughty, egotistical smirk, it was a frank smile. You were taken aback by his casual friendliness and nodded.

“Thank you. And thank you again for the ride. I needed it.”

“Hmph. Don’t go around telling others that, though. Lord knows I don’t need more tabloids on my ass over this.”

“I won’t. It’ll be our secret,” you said as you began to walk back to your original spot at the bench with a more relaxed stance. For once, there wasn’t a heavy pit in your stomach that threatened to consume you, but a gentle warmth that slowly blossomed there.

That warmth didn’t last long when a few days after, Johnny and Diego were set to compete in another race. Of course you were going, that was always a given, and like always, Johnny gave you a ticket to let you in. Even if he was never around much, he left you the tickets in your bag, almost as if it was just expected of you. Perhaps it was, at this rate. You’ve been doing this for almost five years now.

You sat in the bleachers next to a few other familiar faces- mostly the elite who came to socialize or discuss some business and gamble, or younger people who came to try and entice the racers into giving them more attention. You were to offer moral support and comfort Johnny when he’d get frustrated for being silver.

It was a while before Johnny was set to race, but when he did, the crowd whispered in hushed tones if he would finally surpass Diego today. Some had bet on him, while others kept to their trusty pick of Diego. The gunshot went off, and the horses sprinted. It was close. So, so close. Johnny was more determined than ever to win this race, and it showed in the near sliver of space between him and Diego.

Come on, Johnny, come on!

You held your breath, but as it was for so long, close was not close enough. Diego had won, but only by a measly half a second. Your heart dropped as Johnny grimaced and hurried his horse back to the stable. Silver was not good enough. Silver would never make George look at him. Not while Diego was winning race after race, surrounded in heaps of gold.

You stood up to go meet with Johnny, hurriedly wanting to comfort him and offer more words of encouragement that would probably amount to nothing. Because nothing was enough, not until he won. Just as you were in the stables and looking for Johnny, someone clearing their throat beside you caught your attention. You turned around and saw Diego, that smug look on his face again as he held a gold trophy.

“Not even a congratulations?” He joked.

“Oh, sorry. Congrats, Diego. You did wonderful out there, today,” you complimented him. Even if Johnny was your friend, Diego was clearly a special prodigy at horseriding. It was no wonder he was called the ‘genius jockey’ all throughout America and Europe. You were about to continue when he grabbed your wrist.

“That eager to see Joestar? I’m sure he can wait. I wanted to ask you something,” Diego began.

“Hm? Go ahead.”

“They’re organizing a party for my win soon. Tomorrow night, actually. I’m allowed one guest. Perhaps you’re interested in ditching Joestar for the evening and coming with me?” You gasped and felt your face heat up.

“Diego, I-”

“Are you kidding me?!” A voice yelled. You jumped at the tone but knew instantly who it was. Diego snorted and placed a hand on his hips.

“Well now. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something, Joestar?” Diego snapped.

“Back the hell off, Brando, I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now,” Johnny venomously spouted. He stomped over and stood between you and Diego. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Huh?”

“What? Johnny, what are you talking about?” You replied, confused at why he was suddenly aiming his vitriol at you.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I invited you here, and now you’re planning trysts with this asshole?”

“I didn’t even-”

“What kind of friend are you?! You know how much I hate him! Why are you going to see him behind my back?”

Your blood began boiling at all these accusations. You clenched your fists and jaw, trying to control yourself. “I didn’t do anything behind your back. Diego just asked me a question.”

“Please, Diego never justs ‘asks’ questions. And don’t lie to me. I saw what you two did the other day!”

“So what? It was just a little ride! It’s not like we did anything!”

“So you admit you’ve been seeing him!” Johnny pointed a finger at you. Diego made his presence known again and stepped closer.

“What, jealous, Joestar? That your ‘best friend’ finally opened their eyes and prefers me over your lousy company?”

“Yeah, right. I don’t give a crap about you, Brando!” Diego didn’t respond, instead spitting at the floor near Johnny’s decaying shoes.

“You talk big for second place. A second-rate jockey like you should know better than to try and insult me after that piss-poor performance you gave today.”

“You damn-” Johnny nearly launched at Diego before you held him back. “What the hell? Let go of me!”

“Johnny, seriously? You can’t go attacking people!” You lectured.

“Why the hell are you defending him? Huh? You like him that much?”

“It’s not about liking, Johnny, it’s just-”

“Just what? Think you can suddenly do better than me? You ain’t that special!” Johnny screamed at the top of his lungs. Time froze as you saw Johnny’s eyes widen in horror at what he just told. Even Diego was taken aback for a moment before you let go of Johnny and swiftly smacked him across the face.

“Screw you! You’re horrible!” You trembled, the years of anger and humiliation now getting to you. Johnny held his cheek with his hand as you unleashed everything you felt inside. “How can you tell me I’m a bad friend when you never acted like a friend in years?! How can you get mad at me when I wait around for you, when I embarrass myself daily thinking one day you’ll treat me like an actual person and not a damn dog?!”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, Johnny! I should’ve done this earlier! I should’ve stopped hanging around and wishing for you to grow up! Because you never will! You’re an even bigger asshole than anyone else I’ve ever met! All you do is think you’re hot shit, when really, you’re just an insecure little brat!”

Johnny’s face furrowed as his ego felt more bruised than before. “Really? If you think I’m such an asshole, then why don’t you just go?”

“I will! I don’t wanna see you ever again!”

“Oh yeah? See if you’ll get anywhere without me being the one to prop your name up! See if you’ll be anyone if I didn’t give you some attention!”

“I hate you, Johnny! I wish we never even met!” Your voice echoed in the stables. Johnny’s hands shook in anger as he gripped the second place trophy tight. You were breathing raggedly, but all Johnny could see was Diego smirking at him, as if taunting him. Rubbing it in his face that he caused this, that your frustration was all his doing.

In a fit of rage and guilt, Johnny flung the trophy at Diego, only barely missing the English jockey. He didn’t bother to stay in the stables any longer, instead walking away from you for good.

“Yeah, well, have fun with him then. Go suck up to him as much as you can, because when I win, I’m not gonna let you come back,” Johnny bitterly stated, ripping off the gold pin you got him so many years ago as a good luck charm and tossing it to the dirt.

“I’d never want you back anyways,” you spat, solidifying ten years of friendship coming to an end, never to be seen as anything more than a bad memory.

#reader insert #x reader #jjba #jojo #johnny joestar #johnny joestar x reader #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #jojo x reader #jojo reader insert #johnny x reader

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gutsyns · 5 months ago

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Summary: Just a drabble from my drafts. I’m convinced Dallas would probably wreck havoc in Johnnys relationships until he got to know the other person well enough or they showed enough steel to make him back off🤷🏼‍♀️ Characters are aged up a few years just bc.

The shop bell jingles softly, bringing your attention away from the magazine you had been idly staring at for the past twenty minutes. It was late, close to closing and the only people you were expecting to cross the doorway was either in the form of your father with late minute supplies, or trouble.

You glance down at the bat by your feet, weary, but feel yourself breath out a sigh of relief when you take in the familiar face staring back at you, sheepish, but with a small smile on his face.

Johnny puts both hands in the air, taking a small step through the threshold.

“Easy there. I come in peace.”

You’re about to laugh, greet him like you normally would, but you pause. It had been two weeks since you had seen him, practically radio silence on his end. You’d tried to call him at the Curtis’, but there always seemed to be some sort of excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. For awhile you had been worried. What if his folks had gotten him, hurt him real bad this time? What if he’d gotten jumped again?

Then you had seen him out with Pony and Dallas getting cokes about a week back and the message he hadn’t had the guts to tell you to your face began to come through a little bit clearer.

“Hey.” You say eventually. “I haven’t seen around you for awhile.”

“Yeah.” Johnny at least has the good grace to look chagrined as he slips behind the counter and sits down beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dally said- well Dal had mentioned you’d been hanging around a lot is all, so.”

“Huh?”

You stare at his side-profile, stunned. He won’t make eye contact, instead staring pointedly at the display of gum you had put out earlier in the day. His ears are turning a fantastic shade of red, something that, under normal circumstances was endearing, but right now was just infuriating.

“Dallas said what?”

There’s no mistaking the dumbfounded fury in your voice, but Johnny just shakes his head and, finally making eye contact, sends you a pleading stare.

“It really ain’t that big of a deal. Dal just has a hard time adjusting to new people s’all. Give ‘im some time, he’ll come around.”

You glance around the shop, waiting for someone to pop out from a corner and tell you this is all a big joke. When no such thing happens, you look back at Johnny and brace your hands against the counter, breathing heavy. You laugh softly, before scrubbing a hand across your eyes.

“I’m sorry. Are you meaning to tell me that you’ve been going out of you way to avoid me because Dallas Winston told you to?”

Johnny winces and hunches his shoulders, defensive against your anger. Normally that would be enough to make you take a deep breath and reign it in, unwilling to be anything close to a reminder of his nightmare childhood, but this is… this is just too much.

“I thought I’d done something to make you mad.” You say, voice shaking with unnamed emotion. “I thought I’d… hurt you in some way, and all this times it’s been because big bad Dal doesn’t want to share his best friend.”

You laugh again, though the situation is far from funny. Johnnys face goes blank, distant and he squares his shoulders. There’s something dangerous glinting in his dark eyes, a warning that is demanding to not be ignored, but you’re far beyond recognising red flags by this point.

“C’mon Johnny, you can’t tell me you don’t see how insane that is?”

“Now just wait a damn minute-“ Johnny starts, fire in his voice, but your father chooses that exact moment to walk through the door.

He pauses for a moment, observing the two of you. Eyes flickering back and fourth between Johnnys stiff figure and your infuriated expression. He’s weary, nodding to Johnny before seeking you out.

“Everything okay, baby?”

“Peachy.” You breath, but there’s tears pricking in your eyes.

Your fathers eyes narrow in on Johnny, clearly deciding that he’s now public enemy number one and you can see how skittish it makes the other boy. Despite your anger, it makes your heart ache a little to see the nervous energy enter him, the near inevitable way he seems to brace himself for a blow. It makes you want to flay his parents, leave their skin on the local trees as a warning to anyone that dare try to hurt him again.

But. But this time, he’s hurt you. He needs to know that.

“My father is not going to lay a hand on you.” You whisper, just low enough for the both of you to hear.

Johnnys eyes snap to yours, and there’s kinship there, right then. An understanding. His shoulders lose their tension, and you both breathe.

“Johnny was just leaving, dad.” You say, heart pounding. “He’s got a thing with his friend.”

Dark eyes snap to yours, beseeching. Desperate. He looks so sad and it makes you want to forget everything that has happened, but you can’t. You won’t be second best, won’t be reduced to a problem that Dallas Winston wants to get rid of, and one that can be dismissed so easily.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says, low, urgent, but you dismiss him.

You turn, busing yourself with the normal routine of locking down the shop. Even so, you can’t ignore how your hands shake. How your heart is beating a mile a minute. How you can feel Johnny’s stare on your back, even as you try to block him out.

“We’re closing now, son. Think it’s time to go.”

Your fathers voice is gentle, even after the ire he’d given Johnny when he’d seen the two of you fighting. You think maybe your dad understands Johnny in a way- in a way that makes you want to switch off your brain and never think about your grandparents again.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says again, loud enough that its audible to both you and your father. He sounds unhinged, and it’s enough to make you spin around and look at him.

“I didn’t do anything, Johnny. You did. You’re a grown man, eighteen damn years of age. You chose Dallas. That’s fine. I’m not the one that made it a choice to begin with. Just don’t come weepin’ to me about the consequences.”

You spin, incensed and tear-blind, into the backroom. There’s soft murmurs, then the soft tinkling of the bell at the door.

Your fathers hand clamps down on your shoulder a moment later.

“All okay, bug?”

You can’t answer straight away, trying to fight back the tears. Even though you’d told him to leave, wanted him to leave even, it was still disappointing that he did.

“I’m fine.” You whisper, voice breaking.

And when your father pulls you in for a hug, you feel so incredibly small and young. The tears spill over without permission and you bury your head in your fathers shoulder, desperately wishing you had never heard of that damned, stupid gang in the first place.

#johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #the outsiders #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders headcanons #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #darry curtis #steve randle

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 1 year ago

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Criminal Minds | Masterlist

SERIES

Begin Again:

Chapter One: The Savior

Chapter Two: Room 304

Chapter Three: I Know Who Did It

Chapter Four: Swimming Pool Kisses

Chapter Five: Ninety-Nine Percent

Glitter & Crimson:

Glitter and Crimson

Reader is keeping a secret from the rest of the team and they're adamant to find out. When they do, they're absolutely gobsmacked. One of them more than others...

Steady As A Drumbeat

And that ends in a night neither of them will ever forget.

A Little Less Conversation

+ The Aftermath

ONE SHOTS / IMAGINES

Memoriam

Season 4 Episode 7 rewrite -- Spencer's childhood best friend helps him on the Riley Jenkins case. Working together after years of not seeing each other brings up old memories and new feelings.

Do Re Mi

Spencer's next-door-neighbor comes into the BAU, distressed, saying that her ex-boyfriend was the person responsible for the recent string of kills happening in D.C.

Truly Madly Deeply

Spencer comes home from a case and wakes up next to reader. Inspired by One Direction's 'Truly Madly Deeply'.

Johnny and Dora

Spencer and Reader go undercover together to catch the most prolific identity thief in New York. What happens on the case might spark a shift in their relationship. Inspired by the Brooklyn 9-9 episode with the same name.

When?

Reader is tired of always coming in second place. Even when her and Spencer have split up, she's still looking over her shoulder as though he'd still be there. When will that end?

When The Girls Talk Boys

Spencer and Reader talk to their friends about one another, which causes their co-workers to find out about their secret relationship. Inspired by Girls Talk Boys by 5SOS.

Nothing is Accidental

After hearing Spencer's talk on a conference, Reader tests her luck and talks to the young Doctor. It sparks a new friendship, partnership and maybe even more. Rewrite of Season 7 Episode 11: True Genius

Dream Away The Dark

Four times where Reader comforts Spencer after a bad dream and one time where Spencer does the same for Reader.

Hunting Monsters

Halloween is Reader's favorite holiday and she plans to implement that love into her child's life, too. When little Poppy tells Reader she doesn't want to go trick-or-treating, Reader and her husband's co-workers help her convince the tiny genius.

I’m Recharging

How Spencer and Reader's ritual of 'recharging' began.

Tongue Tied

Reader is invited to her best friend's birthday party where she meets Dr. Spencer Reid. An instant connection is made.

Meet Me On The Courtyard

Spencer encounters his neighbor from across the yard, dancing around in her apartment until she catches him. They decide to properly meet on the courtyard.

You Owe Me A Date

Spencer and Reader plan to go out on a date. When she doesn't show up, Spencer gets worried.

You Knock The Wind Out Of Me

Spencer clearly dislikes Reader, but when she tries to ask him why, he evades the question. Only her boyfriend being disrespectful towards her forces her to admit his true feelings.

A Man After Midnight

Spencer and Reader are best friends since they were kids. When Reader is set to marry James, Spencer decides to give her the bachelorette party of her dreams. Only he wishes it were him she was about to marry...

Girls Can't Drive

Where a case hits reader a little too hard. Spencer doesn’t get why it’s hitting his girlfriend so hard until she finally tells him how hard it is to be a woman sometimes.

Annotations

Spencer finds a book in the breakroom one time and when he starts reading it, he noticed the notes in the margins. What quickly develops as a love written in the margins of several books, might have to step out into the real world soon.

King of My Heart

Spencer has always taken care of reader. Whether it was giving reader food before they realized they were hungry or buying them coffee, ... Tiny gestures that made it impossible for reader not to fall in love with him.

This Love Is Ours

Reader and Spencer are best friends with obvious feelings for one another. When Spencer ends up in prison, Reader gets angry at him, which keeps them from visiting him. But once she does, there's no pane of glass that would keep them apart.

Mine (Spencer's version)

Spencer reminisces about the first time he met Reader.

New Romantics

After a bad breakup, Reader and her friends go out to party where she meets one young FBI agent. Suddenly, she'd forgotten her ex even existed and was more interested in getting to know the stranger.

I Can See You

When Penelope's best friend comes to help out the BAU on a couple of cases, there's an immediate connection with the youngest of the team. After longing glances, soft touches and wild fantasies, the truth comes out accidentally. What is the resident genius going to do with that information?

There's A 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You

The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.

I Think He Knows

JJ invites her best friend, a linguistics professor, to help out on a couple of cases. When she and Spencer work together, something sparks between them.

Maybe We'll Take Some Time

Spencer and Reader broke up five weeks ago. When he comes knocking on her door, crying about a friend's death, their love is resparked.

HANDS

Spencer's hands are lovely and as he placed them on Reader's cheeks, it was the only way to calm her down. So, when Reader comes home breaking down after a difficult day at work, he's quick to calm her down.

The Stranger

Spencer and Reader are coworkers and best friends. When Reader gets hurt on a case, Spencer's feelings for Reader are bared.

Floored Decisions

Many decisions were made on the floor of their apartment. One day, she asks him a very important question.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #jj #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #fanfiction #nele's masterlist

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lostloveletters · 9 months ago

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Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed.

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket.

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.”

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.”

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do.

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list.

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb.

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor.

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?”

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed.

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric.

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.”

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him.

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them.

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs.

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy.

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser.

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue.

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.”

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.”

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

#john brady x oc #john brady #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody #so basically i got carried away

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 1 year ago

Text

Fic Masterlist!! ☆

All warnings and full descriptions on the fics themselves!! My requests are always open ;)

Bam Margera:

Can’t Stand Losing You

Being an up and coming model in LA is hard enough for Y/N without her best friend being obsessed with her.

(Dark themes, toxic relationships, borderline yandere)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡

Maggot’s Kiss

Y/N skates alongside Bam on Tony’s skate tour, which would be fine if the two didn’t hate eachother’s guts. To make this worse, Bam just can’t seem to get his mind off of this skater girl, and she knows it.

(Enemies to lovers, fake dating)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡

Johnny Knoxville:

Manager!Y/N

Y/N is put in charge of keeping America’s hottest bunch of freaks in line. The only problem is that the leader of their little gang can’t keep his eyes off of her.

(Fluff, highly suggestive content)

Award Show ♡ Vegas ♡ Movie Premier ♡ Japan ♡ New Orleans ♡ Mexico ♡ Orlando

Ville Valo

Love You To Death

An often forgotten member of the CKY crew, Y/N becomes enchanted by one of Bam’s friends, Ville, who sweeps her off of her feet on a chance meeting. Conversely, Bam sees his affection for Y/N as a way to get closer to him.

(Angst, manipulation)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2

Jackass

Rules of the Harem

How do you keep Tv’s sexiest crew of lunatics under one roof and keep them from tearing the place appart? Rules. Well, lots of sex and rules.

(Friends to lovers, friends with benefits)

Where it All Began ♡ Rule 1 ♡ Rule 2 ♡ Rule 3

Bam Margera:

Bam getting sick after a stunt

Nursing Bam’s broken tailbone

Helping Bam with a prank war at Castle Bam

Y/N is caught between Bam and Ville

Y/N and Bam go to the Jackass Halloween party

Bam and Y/N make a “home movie” ;)

Getting everything ready for you and Bam’s wedding

Bam X Bimbo!Reader

Bam X Stuntgirl

Cowboy!Au

Vampire!Au Pt. 2 (Preview)

Bam falling head over heels in love with Y/N

Bam nursing Y/N’s concussion

Incubus!Au

Bam X Motocross!Y/N

Johnny Knoxville:

While dating Bam, Y/N gets eyes for Johnny

Johnny comforts Y/N after a rough week

Johnny dating a girl from the country

Visiting Johnny in the hospital

Y/N and Johnny bring their new baby on set

Y/N goes back to Johnny’s childhood home with him for the holidays

Cowboy!Au

Johnny X Assistant!Y/N

Johnny X BuckleBunny!Y/N

Johnny and Ryan’s Sister are in a secret relationship

Steve-O:

Steve and Y/N are pining for each other on set (but neither notices the other)

Steve loves making Y/N blush! Pt. 2

Steve X PartyGirl!Reader

The Morning After with Steve-O

Steve x Masc!Y/N (Corruption Kink)

Ryan Dunn:

Ryan and Y/N secretly harbor feelings for each other

Ryan and Y/N sneak off during a party

Ryan X Y/N X Bam GhostfaceDuo!Au

Chris Pontius:

Chris and Y/N’s casual relationship turns into something more

Chris x Steve’s Sister!Y/N

Brandon DiCamillo

Fake dating Dico to make Bam jealous

Ville Valo

(Because he’s tangentially related to Jackass)

Ville X Rockstar!Y/N

Misc. Jackass:

The guys visit Y/N in the hospital after they get hurt skating

Y/N gets her car washed by the Jackass guys! ;)

Johnny’s daughter does stunts with the Jackass crew (and he’s not happy ab it)

Medic!Y/N Pt. 2

Viva La Bam:

Y/N spends Halloween with the Viva la Bam cast

Vampire Au

Maggot’s Kiss Pt 2

Manager Y/N Gumball Rally Fic

Cupid’s Chokehold Pt.2

Bam Size Kink Fic

Toxic!Bam HC’s

Johnny X Childhood!Friend Y/N

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #jackass x reader

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cod-dump · 2 years ago

Note

TW: abuse/domestic violence

I am fully convinced that Soap has adhd— and was really mistreated for it as a child. As in, his father used physical punishment to get Johnny to behave; so now as an adult sometimes he’ll still flinch if Ghost or Price yell too aggressively or move too suddenly. In reality, Soap knows that neither of his superiors would physically hurt him (on purpose, at least), but that scared inner child is terrified of that ever being proven wrong.

There comes a day when Soap has (unintentionally) royally pissed off one or both of them, and is trying his damndest to hide his fear of one or both of them physically retaliating like his father used to. Johnny doesn’t want to disappoint them the way he disappointed his dad for being the way he is

Never Again

Soap Centric Fic

TW: Violence, childhood abuse, angst

(Price loves his ADHD son)

___

He never talked about his family or upbringing enough for anyone to notice.

He was in therapy for a long time. He knew what happened to him in his youth was cruel and that no father should have treated him that way. That he deserved better than him. But Soap had a hard time believing that. That he deserved better than what his parents, his father, did to him. A part of him refused to let go of the mindset that was beaten into him.

All the punishments that his father would put him through still seemed justified. How his father wouldn’t let him eat anything but uncooked vegetables and a glass of water a day. Doing all his siblings’ chores while they played. If he really pissed him off he would be locked in the hallway closet, in the dark, for hours. No one was allowed to speak to him when he was in there. To this day being in small, dark spaces with no obvious way out freaked him out.

He was able to slowly let go of what his father done to him, allowing him to be his true self. He was able to joke, make friends, make a name for himself. Still he has his moments when he's transported back to his childhood. Price yelling and getting angry, throwing his hands around when something goes wrong. It's never directed at him but it still makes him go quiet and tense up. No one has ever said anything about it so he was sure it was unnoticeable.

Ghost's voice is deep like thunder when he's angry. It reminded Soap of his father's voice. Loud, impossible to ignore. Ghost only ever directed that voice at him once and Soap swore to never do anything again that would make him angry. He would be the perfect soldier, make them proud. He would do everything exactly how they wanted him to.

Soap admits to stop going to therapy a couple years ago even though his therapist was against it. He thought he was healed and that he could live on without the shadow of his father haunting him. He had cut contact with his parents and siblings (minus one sister) as soon as he was able to leave and join the military. His sister kept him up to date with everything that goes on at home. She never tells him anything unless he asks. This was something she did on her own and not by Soap's request.

She wanted him to go back to therapy but he just insisted that he was fine now and didn't need it anymore. He was fine now! He was fine...

Soap was good at what he did, good at following orders. But sometimes in the heat of battle it's hard to follow the plan when adrenaline is pumping through your veins. They were in cover, waiting for Price to give them the signal to move forward. But shells were dropping very close to them and we're getting even closer. Soap believed that if they stuck around that they would soon be right on top of them. So he made the decision to move his men forward. And that was a mistake.

They were ambushed, caught off guard. One of Soap's men was shot in the shoulder right next to Soap. Feeling the man's blood splatter onto his face made Soap lose all train of thought. He acted, did what he thought was best to get his men out of there and to safety. Three more of his men would be shot but able to keep going and two others would be severely injured. Soap knows he could've done better and that those men's blood was on his hands.

He fucked up. Panic was already present in his mind as Price finally calmed things down. The man hadn't talked to him, not as a man but as a soldier, since he met up with them. Soap knew he was angry, he could tell. Price had given him a look earlier that reminded him of his father.

Nothing was said about what happened until after the mission. But if an opportunity had presented itself Soap knows Price would've laid into him without hesitation. Once they were back on base, Price almost dragged Soap to his office. He was forced to sit and Price paced behind the desk. Soap was trying his damnedest to keep calm and nothing had even been said yet! He was gripping the edge of his chair to the point his hands hurt. His mind was racing as Price took a deep breath and turned to him.

"What the fuck happened to waiting for my signal?"

Soap couldn't find his voice or even look Price in the eye. That seemed to piss the man off even more.

"MacTavish, you were given clear orders to wait. To wait for my signal to move forward! But you not only disobeyed that order, resulting in six of your men getting injured. You're lucky that there wasn't any causalities!"

Soap winced as Price raised his voice. He wanted to tell him that he moved forward because their position was no longer safe. Wanted to tell him that they couldn't wait for him to give them the word. But his voice was hidden, his inner child rearing itself against Soap's will.

"MacTavish, what the fuck were you thinking?!"

Price becoming increasingly angry with Soap not speaking. Soap winced when a knock on the door tore Price's gaze from him.

"Captain, permission to enter?"

Soap felt his blood run cold upon hearing Ghost's voice. He couldn't handle both Price and Ghost yelling at him.

"Not now, Riley."

The tone of Price's voice said a thousand words, all describing how beyond pissed Price was. But Ghost didn't leave.

"Sir, is regards what happened on the mission."

Price's cold gaze flickers back to Soap for a moment before he allows Ghost to enter. The lieutenant's presence normally was welcomed by Soap, but at this moment he wasn't Soap's friend. The man walked up and stood next to Soap, Soap feeling trapped.

"What is it, Riley?"

"Sergeant MacTavish saved his men's lives."

Soap blinks, confused. Price tilts his head at this, waving a hand for Ghost to continue.

"The position that he was holding and abandoned was struck by a shell thirty two minutes after they departed."

Price tenses, the anger melting away and looking back at Soap. It was like he was looking at Soap at a different angle, realizing something. Soap turns his head slightly to look at Ghost, who's previously suffocating presence now felt like a shield.

"If they had stayed and waited, none of them would have survived."

His father never once felt guilt for what he had done to Soap. The last time he ever spoke to him and the man blamed everything that he did to Soap on Soap himself. Saying that he brought it upon himself for misbehaving. For being a horrible son. Soap never had his parents apologize to him. But here Price was, terrified because he almost lost Soap. That Soap would've been dead if he had listened to him.

Soap felt tears well up as Price apologized to him and hugged him.

"Fuck... I'm sorry, son. You did the right thing."

Soap mutters, "I-I didn't mean to make you angry."

"I would rather be angry and have you alive than regret putting you in that position and having you dead."

Soap sniffs and buries his face into Price's shoulder, Ghost hanging back.

Soap thought he was healed from what happened to him growing up. But he wasn't. He was still afraid. He still had to learn how to live his life without fear of his father, he had to unlearn the mindset beaten into him. He made the mistake of putting Price in his father's place. Because unlike his father, Price cared and worried about him. And he wasn't too proud to apologize.

#dad price #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #fic #fanfic

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diejager · 11 months ago

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It got deleted again 😂

Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.

He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.

Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.

Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.

He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.

You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.

“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”

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darth-mortem · 11 months ago

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Here is the next text from my English lessons. It's about '22 Ghost and Soap who are inspecting an old creepy house. The names of Johnny's parents I invented myself. 1157 words.

“Where are ye taking me, Lt.?” Sergeant MacTavish asked, sitting in the front passenger seat of a duty SUV.

He and Lieutenant Riley had come on leave to Soap’s childhood town and stopped at his family house as usual. Johnny’s mother, Islay, loved Simon very much, and his father, Major Douglas MacTavish, had already gone hunting with the lieutenant more than once. However, this time they didn’t come for long, and immediately after dinner, Ghost dragged Soap into the car and drove him somewhere.

“Your mother told me an interesting story about your childhood.” Ghost said, looking at the navigator’s screen. “It’s about one old, scary house, which you and your friends were scared by. Islay told me that you’re still afraid of it.”

“It’s absolute bullshit!” Johnny shouted indignantly. “I’m nae afraid o’ anythin’!”

“Well,” Simon pulled over and killed the engine, “then it won’t be difficult for you to enter that house with me and inspect it from the basement to the attic.”

The sergeant rolled his eyes and got out of the SUV slowly. He walked around the car, stopped by Ghost, and took out his cigarettes.

“Let’s smoke, Lt.!” He said cheerfully. “This bloody house is made o’ wood, sae it’s nae safe tae smoke inside.”

The lieutenant nodded silently and took a cigarette. In his opinion, the reason wasn’t the fire hazard of this old building, but he didn’t focus on it. He stood, leaning on the bonnet, and looked thoughtfully at the house. It looked truly terrifying, not only because of the age-blackened walls and the dark hollows of the broken windows but also because of the collapsed roof and the crumbling left extension. The unpleasant feeling of grief, loneliness, and neglect was intensified by the twilight falling on the small Scottish town. There were lanterns on the plots to the right and left, but this house was plunged into complete darkness.

“Well,” Simon threw away the cigarette butt with a snap of his fingers, “it’s time to go, Johnny.”

“Maybe it’s better tae dae it tomorrow?” Soap asked with doubts. “It’s dark now. We’ll break oor legs in this ruin.”

“We won’t,” Ghost answered, opening the trunk boot, “because I took thermal imagers.”

He took out their helmets with night vision devices attached and handed the sergeant his one. Soap sighed heavily and, taking a cue from Ghost, put on his helmet and lowered the thermal imager over his eyes.

“Follow my lead,” Riley ordered, and went to the house first.

“Aye, Lt.” The sergeant got himself under control and started to move behind him.

They entered the house, and there was dead silence when the door had been closed behind them. There were ruins inside: rotten floorboards, cracked walls painted with lots of graffiti, the crooked interior doors were wide open, and directly opposite the entrance raised the ancient carved stairs to the second floor.

Simon and Johnny moved slowly and inspected all the first floor's rooms. The silence started to press on the sergeant’s ears very quickly, and he tried to start a conversation.

“Ye know, Si,” he whispered, “when ah was wee kid, this house was a test o’ courage fur all the wee jimmies in the neighborhood.”

“Why?” The lieutenant asked. “It’s just an old, dirty house. And why’re you whispering?”

“I dinnae know,” Soap blushed a little and started to talk normally. “Thare were rumors that thare was a ghost in this bloody house.”

“Well, now there is.” Simon laughed, and the shards of glass crunched under his feet.

Johnny rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs first. He was really afraid of this house in his childhood, but now he's no longer a little boy. He was the youngest soldier who has passed the SAS selection. He is a member of TF 141, the best unit in the whole fucking world. He shouldn’t be afraid of the old, abandoned house.

There were some weird sounds on the second floor. The weather was quiet, but the creaks and cracks were heard from all around Ghost and Soap. It was cleaner here; furniture, paintings, carpets, and tapestries were stored here. Johnny tried to stay close to Simon against his own thoughts of courage.

Sometimes they stopped when Riley wanted to inspect some kind of dresser or bedside table, but the sergeant could’ve sworn he kept hearing footsteps. However, Ghost didn’t seem to hear anything and didn’t pay attention to the fact that Soap was nervous.

Suddenly, there was a quick thump in the next room, and then something fell there and broke. Johnny, strained to the limit, involuntarily screamed, and then he didn’t realize how he found himself in Simon’s arms, tightly hugging his neck.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The lieutenant asked angrily but continued to hold Soap in his arms.

“Whit wis that?!” The sergeant exclaimed and closed his eyes.

“It’s a rat, Johnny,” Ghost lowered Soap and set him on his feet. “And what do you think this was?”

“I dinnae know,” the sergeant said, opening his eyes and seeing a small red contour in the corner with his thermal imager. “Stupid bloody…”

“Enough,” Simon stopped him. “Let’s go.”

Fortunately for Johnny, they didn’t go to the attic because the ceiling had rotted to the point of having holes. But then Simon remembered about the basement door, so they went to the first floor and headed for it.

The basement was dark, stuffy, and reeked of rats, mold, and rot. There were an old boiler and a mutilated electrical panel. The mountains of junk hung along the wall with thesmall,l broken windows. Johnny followed Simon patiently until they reached the far end of the basement.

“Can we go now, Lt.?” He asked nervously and looked at Ghost through his thermal imager.

“What’s your problem, Johnny? It’s just a stupid old house.” The lieutenant looked at Soap in surprise and kicked the wall.

The old masonry crumbled, and together with the stones, the human skull and bones rolled under the feet of two soldiers. They froze, staring at their finds and at each other. Then Ghost turned back carefully and said:

“Let’s get out of here.”

It was quiet outside, but when Ghost and Soap left the house, the door slammed shut behind them, as if from the wind or someone from inside had pushed it hard.

“You know, Johnny,” the lieutenant said slowly, “maybe there really is a ghost here.”

On the way home, they stopped at a phone booth and anonymously reported the human remains to the police. And a few days later, while watching TV together with Johnny’s parents, they saw a story on the news about a terrible find in the basement of the old abandoned building.

“Is it that th’ house ye wur afraid o’ as a child, son?” Islay asked, looking at Soap. “No, maw,” he lied because he didn’t want his mother to worry, “it’s not.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley #johnny mactavish #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #cod fanfiction #fanfiction #haunted house #soap cod #ghost cod

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1autistictacticalrefrigerator · 2 years ago

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Ppl prob have already done Childhood SoapGhost before, but Im just doing it again anyway cuz i think its wholesome 🫵😎

(might stray a but further from Ghost’s canon backstory btw)

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Simon knew Soap since childhood, they were bffs, actually. Soap would always bandage Simon after his father beat him, or feed him when he gets no food. Most importantly, Soap cared for Tommy too- always letting the two abused brothers rant- always finding ways to comfort them and make them smile. Soap could never go to Simon’s house, Simon was afraid Soap would get hit too- but regardless, Soap always offers Simon and Tommy his own house as a second home for them. He never asked for any of this to be repaid. He was a saint in Simon’s eyes.

…So it hurt more than any cut and bruise Simon has gotten from his father when Soap had to move. That night when Soap had to go Simon cried, not because he’ll miss the treatment he gets from Soap, but Soap himself. He thought he’d never see his only best friend ever again. But he was wrong.

…

Soap and Ghost meet again when they crossed paths once more in the 141. Ghost immediately recognized Soap- he never forgot him. Soap had the same hair, same everything really. Just a bigger size with a even bigger heart. Soap didn’t change much, but Simon changed too much.

Simon was Ghost now. A big scary boy in a skull mask who people think he couldn’t feel. A killing machine who offers no mercy. A man who’s relationship with Soap is back to square one.

Ghost wondered if Soap would remember him, its been fucking years. Wouldn’t be a surprise if Soap forget about him- with such a open personality it wouldn’t be hard to picture Soap with a lot of friends when he moved on from Simon. (Did he..?)

Simon never deserved Soap anyway.

Ghost tells himself that every day. Simon had lived in total darkness until Soap came to be his light, now Ghost has become that darkness to survive after Soap was gone. Ghost didn’t want to engulf Soap in that kind of suffering. He would keep Soap safe. Even if it meant keeping Soap safe from himself.

…

Walls. Barriers. Distance.

Soap broke down every one of those. Simon, who was buried deep inside of the graveyard in Ghost’s heart was climbing out.

The only thing keeping Ghost from surrendering was Simon was never ready- not ready to be in such a warm embrace once again, only to be addicted to it and lose it again. Not again- it can’t happen again. Ghost dreaded to think what he would do afterwards.

So Simon is tucked away safely and quietly in a corner. Only making brief appearances every now and then.

This is the best way. Ghost thought, This is the only way.

…

What Ghost didn’t expect was for a single conversation to change the tides immediately. A conversation about the past he never wanted to hear about again.

“Lt?” Soap had asked, “Im curious. Who was your best childhood friend?”

You. “Why ask, Johnny?”

“Because. I dunno. Im curious- if you want you can hear mine first.” Soap grins.

“Hm.” Ghost hummed thoughtfully for a minute, then he shrugs. “Sure.”

What happened next was something Ghost didn’t believe to be real. A name Ghost hadn’t heard in ages.

“His name is Simon Riley.”

What..?

What what what what whatwhatwhatwhat what?

( He he a little cliff hanger. I might leave it like this. I kinda like it. Butttt I might give it a proper ending too one day ;) )

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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jimothy-hopkins · 3 months ago

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So when I said o was taking a break from doing ref sheets I lied yall sorry. Have my new favorite OC I made less than a day ago!

Info about Abigail!

General Description:

Abigail stands at 5’0 with a thin build. She has a strong jawline and cheekbones. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of blue, that some find scary to look at. Abigail has wavy dark blonde hair with highlights bleached into it. Abigail wears layered clothing and tennis shoes, enjoying a simple style that she feels comfortable in.

Abigail exhibits a lot of social anxiety due to her autism. She has only recently gotten her diagnosis, and doesn’t know how to mask or properly regulate her emotions. This is one of the reasons she likes to keep to herself. There’s no pressure to socialize. Abigail would love to make friends, but has been discouraged to do that thanks to bullying in her younger years and how other students treat her at Bullworth. She is anxious when speaking, and fidgets as a way to soothe herself. In situations where Abigail feels threatened, she is likely to shut down. Behind her awkward surface, Abigail is an incredibly empathetic person, and wants to see the best in people. She is a loyal friend and a loving person.

Interests and whatnot:

Abigail loves to draw and make art. After school she will spend hours in the art studio with Ms. Philips working on pieces and projects she’s made. Art is one of the few ways Abigail has learned to cope with extreme emotions. She enjoys pairing colors and expanding on her ideas visually.

Abigail loves animals, mostly cats. Abigail has a few cats of her own, and frequently helps out the feral and stray populations in Bullworth. She has two cats of her own. They are two orange tabbies named Beaker and Gouda.

Collecting LPS is one of Abigail’s hobbies. She enjoys having them because they remind her of being a kid. She never remembered much of her childhood due to how chaotic her home life was at that time. LPS comfort her in a way and bring her happiness.

Abigail also enjoys watching movies, especially comedies. Her favorite movies are White Chicks, Heathers, and All Dogs Go To Heaven. Abigail likes animated movies as well, since she’d replay some VCR tapes so much that they’d burn out.

Reputation:

Abigail is afraid of the jocks. She knows they hardly get a consequence because of their hold on the school hierarchy. She does her best to stay away from them, but is frequently teased for being awkward and quiet.

The greasers don’t tend to bother Abigail. She is friends with Kate Valenti since they share some of the same interests. Abigail doesn’t hang out with the clique though, Johnny and the others intimidate her.

The preps don’t really care for Abigail. They thinks she’s weird and want nothing to do with her. Although, some members are a bit more empathetic towards her.

Abigail is relentlessly targeted by the bullies. This is why she is prone to shutting down. Everything she does in front of them is mocked. They have made her self esteem crumble, and she’s even embarrassed to talk about any of her interests because of them.

The nerds don’t really cause a problem with Abigail. They usually don’t interact outside of class. Sometimes she’s forced to listen to them rant about GnG.

BONUS: Abigail is favored by the prefects. She will run errands for them and tattle when she sees something bad happening. She stays close to the prefects on their patrols because she knows students won’t bother her when she’s near them. In a way, she’s friends with them.

Quotes:

“Give that back!”

“What is your problem?! Get away from me!”

“My life is like a Picasso. I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for.”

“I’m not weird, maybe I just don’t wanna be friends with you cause you’re a jerk.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m the only normal person here.”

“All jocks do is play with balls I don’t understand the hype.”

“I’m gonna go see a movie with Kate. I’ll talk to you later.”

“We’re having an art show this week, if you wanna come and vote for my pieces. They’re not much- but y’know I’d really appreciate it if you did that.”

“Justin looks like Shrek in a derogatory way.”

“Those townies look like victims of DoodleBob.”

“I’m nervous.”

“I just wanna graduate dude please leave me alone before I tell a prefect!”

“Just leave me alone- I don’t want anything to do with anybody right now!”

“I could go for some dump cake right now. Damn.”

“One time Casey Harris shoved me in a locker so I put mustard in his cleats before a game.”

“Here, I painted a portrait of you. Thanks for being nice to me.”

#bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit #canis canem edit #bully anniversary edition #bully rockstar #bully cce #bullworth academy #bully oc #bullworth oc #canis canem edit oc #cce oc #bully cce oc #non clique #non clique oc #my oc #original character

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paulinawoodpecker · 1 month ago

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Here are some relationships Paulina shares with the gang

Buster Moon

Role: Father figure

Relationship: Buster is Paulina’s guiding star, providing endless encouragement and teaching her the importance of perseverance and believing in herself.

Ex: since she was adopted to the moon theater family, she had trouble of getting nightmares and worries in her head so Buster tries to help her out with advices

Rosita

Role: Mother figure

Relationship: Rosita offers Paulina warmth, understanding, and life advice. She often helps Paulina navigate the ups and downs of pursuing her dreams.

Ex: she can also help with comfort. Whenever she has been through child abuse, she can help comfort her the same way she would do with her kids

Meena

Role: Older sister

Relationship: Meena helps Paulina with emotional struggles and boosts her confidence during performances.

Ex: during the first sing movie, she had stage fright so meena would also teach her how to face it

Johnny

Role: Older brother

Relationship: Johnny is a supportive and protective big brother who encourages Paulina to embrace her musical talents.

Ex: he can also teach her new skills to try and Paulina loves to try new things

Ash

Role: Older sister

Relationship: Ash pushes Paulina to embrace her individuality and face challenges head-on. They often collaborate on creative projects.

Ex: when she broke up with lance, ash felt like she could also use a partner with her.

Gunter

Role: Fun-loving brother

Relationship: Gunter is the sibling who brings energy and humor to Paulina’s life, encouraging her to enjoy herself.

Ex: he would be the one cheering Paulina up when she’s sad or worries about her dark childhood

Porsha Crystal

Role: Sister with a diva streak

Relationship: Porsha and Paulina share a playful rivalry but support each other in times of need.

Ex: Porsha and Paulina would be a perfect sibling pair together. They would hang out and shop together like what best friends do.

Nooshy

Role: Cool older sister

Relationship: Nooshy teaches Paulina to express herself boldly, especially through dance and performance.

Ex: Nooshy can also teach Paulina some dance moves she can try while preforming for her rehearsal

Mike

Role: Mischievous brother

Relationship: Although they bicker occasionally, Mike’s confidence inspires Paulina to be braver on stage.

Ex: he has also been through someone very bigger than her mother so he can also share his feelings about nearly getting attacked by bears.

Alfonso

Role: Fun older brother

Relationship: Alfonso is the sweet and caring sibling who ensures Paulina never feels left out. His kindness and humor make him one of her closest confidants.

Ex: he can take her to his ice cream place and let her choose any flavor she wants. (She’s mostly a strawberry girl)

Clay Calloway

Role: Wise mentor-figure

Relationship: Paulina sees Clay as a respected elder brother who helps her explore deeper emotions through her performances. He often shares wisdom about life and artistry.

Ex: he lost his wife and Paulina has gone through child abuse and clay can help her with some advices and experiences he has also been dealing with.

Miss Crawly

Role: Funny and quirky aunt

Relationship: Miss Crawly is Paulina’s quirky cheerleader. She provides comic relief and reminds Paulina not to take life too seriously.

Ex: she can be so sweet and helpful to give Paulina advices

Eddie Noodleman

Role: Easygoing uncle

Relationship: Eddie serves as a laid-back, supportive figure. He’s always ready to share a laugh or offer encouragement.

Ex: since Paulina has heard about Eddie, she would love to spend time with him.

Nana Noodleman

Role: Grandmother figure

Relationship: Nana is a source of wisdom and discipline, pushing Paulina to reach her full potential. Paulina deeply respects her no-nonsense attitude.

Ex: even though she’s like that, she can also give her second chances for what she has to do.

Suki Lane

Role: Older sister

Relationship: Suki inspires Paulina with her professionalism and ambition, often acting as a role model. While she can be critical, she pushes Paulina to aim higher.

Ex: sumo would be a perfect therapist whenever Paulina has child abuse issues

Amelia Holmes(belongs to @phoenix-the-mistfit-fire-bird)

Role: caring older sister

Relationship: Amelia is Paulina’s nurturing sibling who shares a love of creativity. They bond over their shared artistic aspirations.

Ex: Paulina loves drawing so she and Paulina would share their feelings with art

Artica Kennedy (belongs to @tigresslanzhu)

Role: Protective and fearless sister

Relationship: Artica acts as a fierce and loyal sibling, always looking out for Paulina and encouraging her to be brave.

Ex: she can protect Paulina from child abuse and comfort her if she’s hurt or in distress

#sing #sing 2 #sing movie #sing 2016 #sing 2021 #sing Paulina #relationships

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wolkoshka · 2 years ago

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Paranormal

summary: you meet Ghost for the second time at Soap’s birthday/costume party and this time, you promise to get a taste of the man behind the mask. Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 1/3

word count: 5k+

London was drenched, blinding flashes forking out amidst midnight clouds rolling in a hailing storm.

Or it was pishin' doon oot there, as your childhood best friend would call it.

His birthday, along with the rain, had just stormed in, and since he was being deployed on another mission tomorrow, he wanted to party as soon as the clock struck midnight.

Excitement buzzed in your veins, and not because of the party - well, partially - but because of a certain someone you were impatient to meet again.

On cue, lightning flashed as a strong kick to the bar's door burst it open - and in strut you, Ghostbuster uniform on full display. Except, this one's slutty. And there's only one ghost that needed catching tonight.

All commotion stopped to regard you.

Tossing the umbrella into a rack, you kicked the door shut with your heel.

With shorts hugging the plump of your ass, a form-fitting jacket unzipping down the front to reveal your salacious cleavage, and waist and thigh straps securing the proton pack to your back coupled with the knee-high boots four inches tall, you knew you were a sight to behold.

The bar was swarming with familiar faces of both military and mutual friends.

You dramatically posed, the gun of the proton pack activated. “Heard there was something strange in your neighborhood.”

Low whistles and compliments rebounded. “There’s something strange happening in my pants right now!” one male enthusiastically called from the back.

“Haud yer weesht,” a familiar voice reprimanded, soon followed by an effective smack.

From a sea of shark fins, faerie wings, and numerous superhero costumes, a Mohawk head popped out. Your expression abruptly brightened and you twirled performatively as Johnny shouldered through the bodies and took you in a big, tight hug.

The heat of his body singed into your chilled one, enveloping you.

“Ay ye bastard. Ye actually made it.”

Embracing him equally as tightly, you smothered him with kisses on the face. You hadn’t seen him for three months now. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny-bo-bonnie. Mwah, mwah, mwah. That one’s from mum.”

A hearty laugh. “Don’t tell me - she baked me something real delicious and you ate it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He put you down, and you stepped back to take in his outfit: a bathrobe, slippers, and polka dotted blue swim trunks. His chest was bare and suave sunglasses perched on his head.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

He splayed his arms wide open, a shit-eating grin revealing straight, white teeth. “A man on a well-earned vacation.”

You playfully slapped him on the chest. “Good one.” From your proton pack, you withdrew a box. A present. “Here. Gotchu something.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another soap.”

“Why? Were you showered with them tonight?” A snort-laugh. “Get it? Shower? Soap?”

“Harr, harr, harr.” He thumbed over his shoulder at a shrine of soaps forming a pyramid on a table. “Suddenly, everyone’s so bloody hilarious tonight.”

You made a noise of intrigue. “Do they smell nice?”

“Don’t care. What did you get me?” He palmed the box, opening it.

“I’m taking some if they do.”

“Go crazy, lass.” A soft gasp. Then, “O feckin’ feck me.”

“I know, I know. I know you too well. It’s my curse,” you sighed, but smiled when he took out the expensive bottle of GlenDronach, his favorite scotch.

“Happy birthday, sucker.”

He looped an arm around your neck, hugging you close and kissing you on the temple. “And that’s why you’re my favorite best friend.”

"Other best friends, huh? Take that back or I’ll Bath and Body Works your arse next time I see you.”

“Roger that.”

Arm still corded around your shoulders, he turned your bodies to the bar - and there he was.

Ghost.

Simon Riley, you learned his name was.

The muse that lingered in every afterthought, in the darkness of the night, while sleep cooed you into a moment of silence your heart beat fast and loud enough to fight off - just to win more time thinking of the man who did not even care for your existence.

A soft gasp parted your lips.

His back was to you, broad and tall, as he conversed with Price, head tilting ever so often in remark.

He sported a dark brown leather jacket over a black hoodie and equally as dark cargo pants. His combat boots hugged up his strong calves, his legs parted over the bar stool he perched on, meaty thighs barely fitting.

He wasn't in costume. You guessed he dressed as a ghost mirroring a civilian.

Despite the chaos circulating him, his poise was calm and collected, but not unaware, the stiffness in his shoulders stating as much.

A killer of killers, apex predator of the fittest, his prowess was unmatched in the battlefield, and to witness a man of his caliber exist in environment simple and mundane had a startling effect.

Menacing, you thought, a bite to your lower lip.

"See somethin' you like?" Soap humorously chuckled.

You'd met Ghost three months prior, while Task Force 141 was deployed on a private mission to locate Shepherd's current hideout, and as a private contractor who'd built many commercial, private, and government facilities - wherever the clients needed them built - you'd come across one personally requested by Shepherd himself.

It was a long time ago, but your memory had not failed you.

By the shores of Chile, was a property laid out by you, the blueprint of it handed off to Soap to investigate.

Screw client confidentiality when your best friend's life was put in danger by a betraying bastard.

It was then, as you'd climbed into the SUV to hand the blueprint, you'd made out a humongous shape in your peripheral and screamed out in reaction.

It hadn't helped when it was a skull staring right into your very soul.

"Ah, a common reaction to Ghost," Soap had commented. "Lt, meet my best friend," he said your name, and to you, "meet Lt. Ghost. Simon."

Simon.

You'd wiggled your fingers a hello at him. "What a name. Pleased to meet you."

He hadn't responded, had merely stared before looking out the window.

Right then and there, he was an enigma you couldn't deny. You'd decided to make him look your way however and whichever way you could.

"Johnny, be done with it," he'd grated out when you and Soap got lost in the gossip, the husk and deep gravel of his voice eliciting a full-on body shiver from you.

You'd stolen the name he'd given your best friend, calling him Johnny from that day onwards.

Now, here he was anew. A few more steps and within reach, you merely had to walk to him.

Excitement buzzed in your veins.

You smoothed a hand down your outfit. "Do you think he'll appreciate the joke?"

"Knowing Lt and his humor, or lack thereof actually, he might just hate himself for loving it too much."

A giddy feeling spurted in your chest. "You think?"

"Oh, yea. But go easy on him," he added, peering down at you, brow arched, "the man just landed from a solo mission. There's an uneasy air about him tonight. The fact that he's even attending is gift enough for me."

"That means he's tired, grumpy, and susceptible to an easy one night stand. Just my type of target."

"Ay ye vixen. I said go easy. Here," he lowered the zipper on your chest, revealing more of your cleavage, "that's better. Now go get him. God knows he needs it," he grumbled the last part.

Happily, you almost skipped your way to him. But just before reaching, two bodies swarmed you, hugging you close and screaming in your ear over the bar music. Your friends from college.

"Where have you been!"

"It's so good to see you again, come!"

You were dragged away, more distance than you'd like being put between you and Simon. Nooo.

It wasn't after two hours of losing yourself in the crowd, dancing with people, with Johnny, backs pressing together to roll to the beat of the songs in your sickest moves, that you, downing more margaritas than you could count, summoned back your wits and sauntered your way to the bar.

Plopping down on a stool next to his, you mirthfully laughed, buzzed out of your mind.

The melodious sound cut his conversation short with Price and dragged his attention to you, and - oh, fuck.

Those eyes.

Even in your stupor you admitted to their allure.

He walked, talked, like a man who's had his flesh peeled from his bones. Eyes too haunted to be alive, too haunted to be dead.

A man imprisoned in the infinite present that neither knew him reprieve or end.

You were so lost in them that you didn't say anything to him for a long moment. Then, "Hi," you lowly voiced, grinning like a fool who just got the best present under the Christmas tree.

Reminding yourself to be sexier, you opted for a, "What is a girl like you doing...sitting all alone when a hunk like me is right here?"

Your brows furrowed in the middle. No, that didn't sound right. You tried again.

"What is a girl like me doing with...with a hunk like you, sitting...all... No, that's not it either."

The bulk of him shifted in his seat, whiskey in a gloveless hand, as he now regarded you.

To be the sole focus of those eyes, it killed you. Like honeyed whiskey swirling with the silver clouds of storm outside, it made you feel more drunk than you already were.

But you could see how tired he really was, eyes rimmed red, thin veins stark against the white of his sclera.

"All right," he spoke, tone indulging, but rigid and gravely as the rest of him. "You have my attention."

You did? Success!

Even with the balaclava hiding that no doubt beautiful face of his, you complimented him, afraid that if you didn't, you'd be committing a heinous crime.

"You are." You hiccupped. "You are so pretty."

"And you are shit-faced. Had too much to drink, did ya?"

You leaned in, eyes twinkling with something wicked that even he could not deny.

"Liquid courage," you drawled. And then laughed again, dusky and free.

Price, having noticed where the conversation was heading, turned away with a warm chuckle.

"I'll leave you two to it," he said, giving his attention fully to Gaz, who sat to his left.

You waved at the boys, all giddy. And then motioned with your finger to Ghost's waist, as if to say you were going to get inside his pants. Oh, yes, he was the object of your desires.

Gaz chocked on his bottle of beer.

Price palmed his mouth to stifle a laugh. Unsuccessfully.

Ghost, on the other hand, when you glanced up at him, had his lids hooded.

In his language, that might as well translate to a glower.

"You have one minute," he almost barked out. Glower, indeed.

You straightened, expression serious. You gave him a captain's two-finger salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Then, before he could toss you out the window of the bar, you followed it up with, "Heard you like jokes. Do you like mine?"

You motioned to your costume.

He followed the movement, gaze raking down your body, and then slowly up, blond lashes fluttering. When his eyes landed on your cleavage, heat filled them, and in reaction, warmth spooled low in your belly.

"Clever," he throatily remarked, glancing away to his whiskey.

All for you.

His compliment added even more heat to your belly, and you blushed, biting your lip.

"I have more where that came from."

A low rumbling sound. It took you a while to decipher it as a hum. "Is that what the courage was for? Not in the mood, poppy."

His rejection would have floored you had you not been already sat.

Not giving up, you leaned further in, fingers trailing over his leathered forearm that rested on the counter. If one focused enough, they'd also spot the slight tremble in them.

At the closeness, he craned his head down slightly to give you a warning look.

It was dark and foreboding, commanding you to watch the boundaries he'd laid or you might just pay the price.

Any man would have run the other direction. But you were not a man. You were horny. For him. Your desire for Ghost had been stoking for months now, and this very moment, so close to him, you thought you might burn alive with it.

You needed him between your legs, feeding his length into you, assuaging the ache that had made a home there with a friction only he could create.

His scent filled your lungs, and you visibly shuddered. He smelled of the storm outside and something else, something masculine and singular only to him.

If you weren't already drunk, the mere heat of him would've rendered you stupid.

Maybe it had, because the next words out of your mouth were sultry and promising.

"You know, it is not ghosts that haunt, but rather they are the haunted. Give me one night, and I might just chase them all away."

You gently dropped from your stool then, stepping into the space between his parted legs, hands daringly skimming over his robust thighs - before warmly palming them, fingertips digging in his cargo pants.

And he was letting you. That fact alone made your head reel.

Face tilting up, you bopped your chin against his clothed one.

At that, Ghost breathed in deep, and then breathed out slow.

Were you getting to him? Or was he really just tired to deal with you, as Johnny had warned?

Only one way to find out.

"I have another joke for you," you hummed. His lids dropped to your lips, and stayed there. You licked them for emphases, the pink tip of your tongue leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

A sound started in his chest, the beginnings of a groan, you guessed, before he quashed it, and you wanted to whine like a little girl who'd been denied her favorite sweet.

"Be out with it," he lowly grinded out.

A small, playful smirk. "What do you call a man who's great at sex with a sigh and moan in his name?"

An intrigued huff, but it came out rasped. "Go on then."

You stretched to your toes, back bowing and perked breasts brushing against his hardened chest. As you dug the heels of your palms into his thighs, your lips trailed up his jawline and nestled right at his ear.

"Simon," you heatedly whispered, making sure to actually moan the last syllable.

When you pulled your face back an inch, you saw his pupils blown, a frightening darkness overshadowing all color. His breathing had deepened, turned almost harsh, but quiet, as his suddenly ravenous look made your knees weak.

You'd never seen his eyes glimmer like that, so predatory, and that turned you on more. So much so that molten heat drooled out of you, soaking your panties. Did he know the effect he had on you?

His hand traveled up between your bodies, and blood rushed in your ears, your heart palpitating. Had you done it? Were you finally going to know the taste of him? Know how his lips felt against yours, moving, devouring? How hotly his kiss melted every inch of you?

As anticipation coiled tight in your stomach, his iron knuckles pressed into your lower chest, right below your revealed cleavage - and nudged you away.

You plopped back down to your heels, taking steps back the more he outstretched his arm and pushed you farther, like he couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as you.

Confused, hurt - a look you did your best to mask - you searched his expression. There was nothing to gain, masked as he was.

"Point made, love," his deep - deeper - timbre chafed the air between your bodies. "But not tonight. Not in the mood. Go on, now. Dance with Johnny, will ya?"

Humiliation blistered your cheeks and you quickly sobered - and felt increasingly sick to your stomach.

He'd just dismissed you like you were some schoolgirl acting out in his classroom.

Hands balling into tight fists, you stole a determined step toward him. You'd worked quite hard on those jokes, mind him.

"Some fun, you are. What, afraid of a little pleasure?"

He leisurely blinked. "Pleasure's not what I'm afraid of," he began only to cut himself short. A glower crowned his ashen brows, smudged by the eye paint, and he grumbled something under his breath you could not make out.

Swaying a bit on your feet - liquid courage, your arse - you flipped back your hair. "Fine. I'll find somebody else to have fun with." Then, inching closer to him, you leaned in to drunkenly whisper, "And when they're balls deep inside of me, I'll still wish it was you."

The glass of whiskey shattered in his grasp when he fisted it too hard, and that groan, that heavenly, wonderful sound of peak male frustration, finally escaped.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, poppy."

With a cheery twirl, you marched away, lithe shoulders blanketed by the crowd, and left the ever stunned lieutenant to his devices.

But his rejection still chafed you, and, oh, God, you needed to get wasted. So wasted, this night would never come back to haunt you again.

. ☾ .

It wasn't after another hour of dancing, partying, and singing sappy songs at the top of your lungs with Johnny and the gang, even tipsily sniffing some stacked soaps and secretly hiding the ones you liked in your bra, you finally found yourself in your designated spot - hunched over a toilet seat and vomiting the contents in your stomach.

It was expected. You'd drank and drank and drank... And now, your whole world swam.

A wretched sound tore from your throat as another round lurched out of your mouth, splattering into the toilet.

You groaned, vision blurred. Ew.

Settling back, you wiped at your lips with your wrist, heaving. So much for having a good time. But Johnny was happy, so you were happy. With his dangerous line of work and your stressful one, you two deserved such nights of peerless fun.

Like the good 'ole times, something Johnny must've needed too, since he didn't usually celebrate his birthdays. But when he did, oh, shit hit the fan in the most amazing ways.

Recalling some of your escapades, you smiled to yourself, completely unaware of the large silhouette shadowing past the doorway.

The lavatory door whined closed.

At the sound, you looked up.

Ghost stilled in his steps, cocking his head at you in question.

You huffed. "What are you doing in the ladies' bathroom?"

"This is the men's." He thumbed his right, where the urinals lined the wall.

What?

This whole time you were hunched over the men's toilet seat?

Another round of nausea shot up your throat, uncalled for, and you bent over the toilet in time to unflatteringly decorate it.

Gross!

This was so not how you wanted your night to end with Simon, either.

At his retreating steps, you immediately clambered to your shaky feet. "Please, don't leave. I get scared when vertigo hits." Such pathetic admittance, but it was the truth. When your world spun out of control, so did your fears.

He stopped. Looked over his shoulder.

You tried to hurry to him, but knocked one ankle against the other, and unceremoniously tripped. Hard. Head first, down you thwacked against the marbled flooring.

You blacked out.

When you slowly came to, webs of darkness blurring the edges of your vision, you moaned your distress. Bit by bit, Ghost's face registered, hovering over yours, his Manchester accent thick with how he roughly ordered you to come to.

Blinking up at him, you deliriously raised your hand to pat his masked cheek but to no avail. Darling man. Were you dreaming? If so, you never wanted to wake up. You smiled a small smile at him.

"Hi," you whispered. You sounded so wasted and oh, so enamored. Sober you was going to have a serious conversation with drunk you tomorrow.

"Don't move. Easy, now, yeah?" He pushed you down when you weakly fought to rise up. "You're bleedin' all over the place, poppy."

You tried to reason with him, say how disgusting the floor was and you could never lay down there.

"Should've thought of that before drinkin' your posh arse stupid, yeah?" was his argument.

Dream Simon was mean.

"I'm posh," you hummed out a silly laugh. "Posh like a Spice Girl."

"Be quiet," he roughed out, unimpressed. From his pocket, he withdrew a glove and pressed it against your temple.

A throbbing ache hissed where the clothe touched your skin, and you winced.

After a stringing moment, "Why do you hate me?" you softly asked.

His eyes focused on you then, deep and intrusive, and you licked your lips in consequence.

"I don't hate you," came his gruff retort.

"So then why won't you kiss me?"

A slow blink away from your face. He might as well have rolled his eyes. "You don't want to kiss a man like me, poppy."

Why? Because it would rock your socks off? Render you into a silly little mess? Make your dirtiest dreams come true?

Even with a bleeding temple, you understood the meaning behind his words. Maybe even rejection. He was a dangerous man, callous and brutal. Men like him only caused pain and destruction, spawned nightmares and reveled in the blood spilled.

But from the stories you've heard of him, especially from Johnny, and from your own little interaction, you saw more than the mask he donned. Saw past it to something buried in him. Something guarded so very deep inside, not even sunlight could pierce the shadows around it, but it was there. And you saw it even now, drunk and utterly wasted you may be.

Maybe he thought he'd hurt you. Maybe he tumbled rough and mean under the sheets. At the image, arousal ignited in your veins, backlit behind the wall of drowsiness and pain that still coursed through your system.

"And... And if I still do? Would you kiss me then?"

"Negative."

A pout.

"How's your vision?"

With you in it, "Good."

A clipped nod. "I'll help you to your feet. And then we can take care of that nasty little wound there, yeah?"

"Aye, aye, captain," you murmured.

When he pressed the glove a bit too deeply into the wound, you immediately rectified your words. "I meant, yes, sir. As you say, sir."

A hum, low and raspy. "That's more like it."

Slowly but surely, you climbed to your feet. For a moment, your vision went black and your ears rang, and you paused, waiting for the darkness to pass. Simon waited with you.

"Better?" he asked when you straightened, touching where his glove pressed against your temple. Your fumbling hand fell upon his leanly adroit one.

Skin grazed skin, electrifying warmth rivaled warmth, and you softly gasped. You nodded, gaze lost in the sheer view of him.

Ghost towered over you, your head lining his broad chest, and you suddenly felt engulfed. It certainly didn't help when the reality of him ending you with just the flick of his wrist if he so willed hovered over your consciousness.

God, he was so big. Just the mass of him and how he crowded any room he was in, made your mouth salivate.

And now, enveloped in his masculine heat, he was all you could see, hear, smell.

Feel.

"Don't look at me with eyes like that, poppy," he gravely warned, lids hooded as he stared you down.

Your throat tightened, lungs drawing in as all air escaped you. "And how am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm dinner."

You moaned despite yourself. It was achingly soft and needy.

You wanted to taste him in the back of your throat, feel his throbbing weight on your tongue, mouth working him mad enough that being pushed over the edge of insanity was his only option. And when that happened, you wanted to know how he sounded as all shred of control left him, his back arching as he spilled all he was worth in you, pumping and pumping, still in desperate chase of that high.

"Bloody hell, still with that look. Not a good listener, are ya? Come 'ere." He dragged you between the two sinks. "Lean against the wall." You did as told, back flattening against the large mirror mounted to it. He opened the faucet and let the cool water run as he wet the glove.

Ruggedly, "Stay still."

With that, he squeezed the water out and slowly got to work, dabbing around the wound and cleaning you up. It was a painstakingly tedious process, but you didn't mind, wincing here and there as you watched him tend to you.

See? Something more in there.

You studied the furrow in his brow, the sharp concentration in his eyes, the even rise and fall of his shoulders, and thought you lost a little bit of your mind for him.

He rinsed the glove, squeezed it, and resumed his task. His hand palmed the whole top of your head as he maneuvered you in whichever way he liked, tilting your face up, down, to the side, as he reached all spots inflicted.

The rough pad of his thumb pinned over the arch of your brow, and you thought you felt him subtly brush at it in his nursing.

When he caught you dumbly staring up at him for the third time, he broke the comfortable silence. "Shouldn't be drinking that much."

Had he been keeping tabs on you? Such wishful thinking, but butterflies still took flight in your tummy. You watched his masked face.

If his lips weren't shielded, you thought you'd feel his breath ghost over your cheeks.

Instead, you innocently batted your lashes at him. "Am I in trouble...sir?" you teasingly - sultrily - added.

He was in the process of wetting the glove when his gaze snapped down to you.

It was brief, but there was a flash of desire behind those lidded eyes before he subdued it with the subtle clench of his jaw.

The air in the room, on the other hand, he could not manipulate. It altered, thickened, became...hotter. Tension pulsed from his body raw and electrifying.

When he gradually straightened, protruding his chest, you suddenly felt suffocated - in the best of ways.

In the sizzling silence, you felt cornered, and your lips parted in anticipation.

He spoke, his words measured and roughish, betraying nothing. "You're bleedin' all over the place and yet you still can't keep it in your pants, mm, poppy?"

You bit your lip, a muffled sound of excitement building up in your chest for provoking a Special Forces soldier - Lieutenant - of all people. "Mhm."

You were stupidly giddy. He merely shook his head at you.

Then, he was watching you again, blond lashes fluttering as his gaze traced over your features, slowly, so agonizingly slow, before settling on your lips. You felt the heat of his stare on them.

A small sound got caught up in your throat, and it wasn't missed by him.

"Do I excite you, little one?" he quietly hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest, crackling ever so slightly, and it felt like honeyed butter melting down your skin.

A tremor racked your entire form, arousal burning your pupils wide and your breath scorching hot - all for him to witness and take in.

It must've pleased him, because he gave you the sexiest bedroom eyes you've ever beheld, the sheer fever in them sweltering and wild.

Huskily, "Yeah?" He stepped forward, large boots emitting no sound. You pressed further up against the wall, chin brushing over the leather of his jacket.

A thin layer of sweat dotted your skin at his nearness, your body involuntarily heating up, an unbearable ache building up between your legs.

And you thought Simon knew exactly what he was doing to your senses, because he followed it up with, "You look at the mask and think you're goin' to get fucked hard, is that it?"

His fingers lightly pinched your chin, his thumb darting up to caress the underside of your lower lip, grazing the edges and eliciting a ticklish sensation.

A needy whine from you caused that broad chest of his to collapse in a visible shudder. Seeing the reaction you pulled from him, your mouth fell open in want, and you meekly grinded up your hips against his thighs.

Your clothed core skimmed over the rough texture of his cargo pants, catching on a crease, but it was enough friction to have your head falling back against the mirror and you keening.

"More," you hotly moaned, feeling wetness seep out of you.

You tested the waters again, widening your stance and rolling your hips upward. Your clit meshed tight against his solid thigh, and when you rubbed it in gradual circles, grinding down, his thigh muscles bulged in response, hitting a sensitive nerve.

"Fuck," you gasped, mouth parting wider. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. "Ghost, please."

With a commanding grip of your hip, he stilled your ministrations. "None of that, poppy," he hoarsely warned. Then, "Shit," he lowly grunted when he felt your hips fight his hand for more stimulation, "That bad, huh?"

You mustered a nod, eyes never leaving his. "Want you," you breathed out.

"Can't have me." A small shake of his head. "Won't give you what you want. 'Sides, you're drunk out of your mind, love."

With that, he released you, backing away before you could reach for him.

Suddenly bereft, you wanted to shout your dissent.

Instead, your body laxed against the wall, palms clutching the coolness of the tiled wall. You already missed his nearness. His hands on you. You didn't want this moment to end.

You didn't want him to go.

Not so soon, anyway. Because God knew he'd make promise to his sobriquet.

"Wash your face. And get your shit together. That's a direct order," resounded his harsh command. If you hadn't wallowed too deep in his rejection, you might've caught the way his hands fisted at his sides when you whined in frustration.

With a defeated slump of your shoulders, you commanded your legs work and rounded the sink.

Palming the rushing water, you went about washing your hands and thoroughly rinsing your mouth. All sensation of him drowned with the water, leaving your skin cool to the touch.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he added more softly, which still grated the air.

Your heart seized in your chest. Why the sudden care?

What game did he play with you? Because one moment, he looked like he wanted to ravish you and the next, like he couldn't get away from you fast enough. Which was it, did you repulse him or attract him?

When he touched you, it was never deeply, desperately, but lightly, airily, leaving you begging for more.

And making him ever estranged.

What was his problem?

What was yours?

Why did you desire this particular man so wantonly? You had to find yourself a fling for the night. You had to flush Ghost out of your system for good.

You had to go home.

How you were going to accomplish both in one night, though, you had no clue.

Yes, while sober, you might have soldiered through the trauma to your head, but right now, still drunk and dizzy, you couldn't tell your elbow from your arse.

Splashing another round of cool water over your face, you grunted when you accidentally swept over your wound.

Appearing much like a drowned rat than the intended sexy Ghostbuster, you shut the faucet, clutched the edges of the sink and lifted your head to stare in the mirror.

Your eyes fell on Ghost.

He quietly watched you watch him from the reflection, a looming shadow in the background, waiting. You expected him to abscond you, but he remained - and that gladdened you beyond belief. Which also now irritated you.

He extended his glove to you.

Breath suddenly shaky, you turned around, the ugly bruised cut on your temple momentarily forgotten. When you made to step forward, crimson blanketed your left eye, and you swiped at it. In the haze, you saw your fingers coated in dark red.

"Bollocks." You started bleeding again. "No need for a hospital. I live a street down. I have a med kit. I'll..." You creased your brows in thought, still tipsy. "I'll care for it at home. Yes. And since you blue-balled me, I intent on finding someone to do the naughty with. I need you out of my system and out of my mind."

Oh, sober you was really going to sit you down tomorrow morning, all right.

He didn't respond to you.

The journey to Ghost proved to be a dangerous one, as the floor and walls adamantly dodged you, making your world swing whichever way you grasped for leverage.

You felt like you existed in a gigantic ball rolling down a hill at full-speed just waiting to burst and send you flying through the air. And you were in a hell of your own making.

Barking out a curse, you heard Ghost stomp your way - before you felt strong arms band around your shoulders and under your knees, effectively hoisting you up in his arms. "You are trouble, poppy. And you won't be taking care of anything in this state. I'll drop you home."

With that, he carried you out of the restroom, the bar, and into the chilled night of London city.

an: it got too long, yall, too long! this is part 1 of 2 for now. i couldn't help it, when i write, i write. part 2, we're ghostin' it up! (therell be smut) hope you enjoyed it!

part two

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enemiestolovershoe · 5 months ago

Text

Friendship and Desire

Johnnie Guilbert x bsf!Reader

Summary: about how a close friendship between you and Johnnie blossoms into a passionate romance after meeting at a party, exploring the journey of falling in love and deepening emotional connections.

A/n: This is my first fic and my first language is not English so please be nice.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Smut, Timeline doesn’t add up to reality, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), getting caught, feelings, first language not English, crying. let me know if you find more.

Life had always felt like an ongoing adventure for you and Jake. Best friends since childhood, you two had navigated the maze of growing up together, sharing laughter, secrets, and dreams of the future. When the opportunity arose to move in together, it felt like the next logical step, a continuation of your lifelong journey.

One summer night, Sam and Colby threw one of their infamous house parties, the kind where everyone you knew (and plenty of people you didn't) gathered to escape reality for a while. That's where Jake met Johnnie. From the moment you locked eyes with Johnnie, you knew something extraordinary was about to unfold. He was clad in black, his eyes lined with kohl, and his presence radiated the same dark, captivating energy that you had always felt within yourself.

In that chaotic swirl of music and laughter, you and Johnnie found each other, two kindred spirits in a world that often felt like it didn't understand you. The connection was immediate and intense, and as the night wore on, it became clear that this was the beginning of something more than just a fleeting encounter at a party.

As the weeks passed after that fateful night, you, Jake, and Johnnie quickly became an inseparable trio. What started as a series of late-night conversations and spontaneous adventures soon grew into something more profound. Johnnie's presence felt like the missing piece you and Jake never knew you needed.

Before long, it made perfect sense for Johnnie to move in with you two. Your small apartment became a sanctuary for the three of you, a place where you could be unapologetically yourselves. Mornings were spent sipping coffee and sharing dreams, while evenings turned into marathons of horror movies and impromptu jam sessions, each of you lost in your shared love for the emo subculture.

Living together, your bond only deepened. Johnnie brought a unique energy to the group; his wit and depth of understanding complemented your own, while his unyielding loyalty mirrored Jake's. You found solace in each other’s company, finding comfort in the shared silences and the unspoken understanding that flowed effortlessly among you.

Life had its ups and downs, but through it all, you faced everything together. When one of you had a bad day, the others knew exactly how to lift their spirits. Whether it was through heartfelt talks on the rooftop under the stars, or blasting your favorite bands and singing along at the top of your lungs, you had each other’s backs.

One particularly stormy night, as rain lashed against the windows and thunder echoed in the distance, the three of you huddled in the living room, wrapped in blankets. The power had gone out, casting the apartment into a dim, cozy darkness. Candles flickered around you, creating a circle of warm light that felt like a shield against the storm outside.

Jake glanced at you and Johnnie, a grin spreading across his face. “Remember how we met at Sam and Colby’s party? Feels like forever ago.”

Johnnie chuckled, his eyes reflecting the candlelight. “Yeah, who would’ve thought that one night would lead to all of this?”

You nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling in your chest. “We’ve come a long way since then. And I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your friendship, you realized that this was home. Not the apartment, not the physical space, but the bond you shared. The world outside might be unpredictable, but together, you knew you could weather any storm.

The storm raged on outside, each clap of thunder resonating through the walls of the apartment. Despite the warmth and camaraderie you had felt earlier, sleep eluded you. Memories and worries swirled in your mind, refusing to let you rest. Deciding that a hot chocolate might soothe your restless thoughts, you quietly slipped out of bed and padded down to the kitchen.

The dim glow of the candles still flickered in the living room as you made your way to the counter. You set about the familiar ritual of heating milk, adding cocoa, and stirring until the rich, comforting aroma filled the kitchen. As you sat on the counter, cradling the warm mug in your hands, the emotions you had been holding back all day began to spill over. Tears silently traced paths down your cheeks as you sipped your hot chocolate, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil within.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching until Johnnie’s voice broke the silence. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

You looked up, quickly wiping at your eyes, but Johnnie had already seen the tears. His expression softened as he crossed the room, his own mug in hand. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “Not at all.”

Johnnie hopped up to sit beside you on the counter, the two of you quietly sipping your drinks. The comfortable silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the sound of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. After a few moments, Johnnie glanced at you, his voice gentle. “Want to talk about it?”

You sighed, staring into your mug. “It’s just… a lot of things. I’ve been feeling down lately like everything is piling up on me. I miss home, and it’s hard being away from everything I knew.”

Johnnie nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “That’s tough. It’s normal to feel that way, especially with so many changes happening.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your emotions. “And there’s something else. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t anymore.”

He looked at you, curiosity and concern in his eyes. “What is it?”

You hesitated, then finally decided to take the plunge. “I think I have feelings for someone. Someone close to me.”

Johnnie’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding. “It’s you, Johnnie. I’ve been falling for you, and it’s been confusing and scary. I didn’t want to mess up what we have, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Before you could say another word, Johnnie leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and urgent, conveying all the emotions he’d been holding back. Surprised but thrilled, you kissed him back, your heart racing.

The kiss deepened, your mugs of hot chocolate forgotten on the counter. Johnnie’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing away the traces of your tears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Johnnie rested his forehead against yours, his voice a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You smiled, your heart soaring. “Me too.”

He kissed you again, more slowly this time, savoring the moment. His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer. You felt a warmth spreading through your body, a mix of relief and desire. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation.

Johnnie’s hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to sit more comfortably on the counter. He stepped between your legs, his touch gentle but firm. As his lips traveled down your neck, you let out a soft sigh, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never been more sure.”

With a shared sense of urgency, you and Johnnie moved towards his room, his hand entwined with yours, guiding you down the hallway, every step filled with anticipation.

Once inside, Johnnie gently closed the door behind you, his eyes locking with yours in the dim light. "I've never been more sure," you repeated softly, your voice filled with conviction.

Johnnie's response was a tender yet passionate kiss, his hands starting to undress you with a newfound urgency.

Your fingers mirrored his actions, working to unbutton his pajama top and slide it off his shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor, forgotten as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

His hands found the hem of your pajama top, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air sent a shiver down your spine, quickly replaced by the heat of his touch. You fumbled with the drawstring of his pajama pants, finally managing to undo it and pull them free, while he slid your pajama bottoms down your legs.

With each article of clothing removed, the connection between you deepened.

You stood there, bare and vulnerable, but completely trusting in this moment.

Johnnie's gaze traveled over your body, filled with admiration and desire.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky.

You blushed, feeling a rush of warmth.

"So are you," you replied, your hands exploring the contours of his body, committing every detail to memory.

Johnnie guided you to the bed, the two of you sinking onto the soft mattress.

His kisses grew more intense, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He moved his hands between your legs, feeling your arousal. Leaning close, Johnnie whispered into your ear, "Who made you this wet, darling?" His voice carried a mix of curiosity and desire, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze with a flush of anticipation.

"You, Johnnie, just you," you moaned, arching your back as you met his touch with eager anticipation. He intensified his movements, skillfully responding to your body's signals while kissing down your trembling form.

He kissed your clit and you let out a loud moan. He paused, placing a hand gently over your mouth. "Shh, darling," Johnnie whispered urgently. "You need to be silent, or else Jake will hear and won't stop teasing you about it."

You nodded, understanding the need for discretion, and Johnnie resumed his actions with renewed focus and determination.

He sucked on your clit, his fingers working inside you with precision. Soon, you felt the familiar wave of pleasure building, signaling your first orgasm of the night was near.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," you panted.

"Cum for me, darling," Johnnie whispered, his voice husky with desire.

He worked you through your orgasm, his touch steady and reassuring, and kissed you tenderly afterward. Letting you taste yourself.

As he reached over to his nightstand for a condom, you stopped him with a firm but gentle touch.

"We don't need this, I'm on birth control," you assured him.

"Fuck, okay," Johnnie replied, his voice laced with a mix of relief and desire. He lined himself up at your entrance, making sure you were okay with this one last time before he gently entered you. Both of you moaned softly as he filled you, and he paused to let you adjust to the intimate connection.

After a few moments, he began to move, gradually increasing his pace. Soon, you were a moaning mess underneath him, your bodies moving in sync as pleasure washed over you both.

"Touch your clit," he panted, his movements becoming more urgent as he continued to thrust into you. Responding eagerly to his request, you complied, fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves.

As you began to rub your clit, pleasure surged through you. Johnnie's rhythm synchronized with your movements, intensifying the sensations building within you. Soon, you felt your second orgasm approaching, waves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" you moaned, giving in to the intense pleasure.

"Me too. Where do you want me?" Johnnie asked eagerly.

"Inside me, Johnnie," you gasped.

"M-Fuck," he groaned.

Together, you both climaxed, sharing a moment of pure ecstasy.

You both were a panting mess as you came down from your heights.

"That was—" you started, interrupted as Jake barged into the room.

"You two are so fucking loud, god damn it.

But at least you finally made a move," he said pointing at Johnnie, leaving as quickly as he appeared.

"Oops," you chuckled nervously.

Johnnie just grinned, "wanna go for round two?"

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