#Johnny can but I somehow doubt he wants to?

[jekyllnahyena]

I strangely enough keep seeing drawings of Ghost n Soap with kids and I keep imagining any of the Ghoag with children in their vicinity.

Like yeah, I can get Johnny, sorta, but mostly because he comes from a big fam (to at least) and he's used to toddlers and kids and enjoys being an uncle very much. But I also don't think he wants to have that level of responsibility tying him to a home? Like he enjoys playing with his nieces and nephews but the advantage of being an uncle is you can give the kid back.

But Simon and Juliette?

Juliette is the sort of person that simply stares at a child in slight terror because she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't like children, she can make an effort, yes, but fuck her if she'd ever want a tiny human in her vicinity.

Same with Simon. I trust that man to somehow get me outta a life or death situation, but not with a child of all things. (the fact alone that they'd have to stop smoking seems completely unreasonable to them. Like no, I'm not going to give up jack shit to have a tiny human tust none of us are equipped to even remotely take care of.)

And that is ignoring all the issues and trauma the lads have accumulated over the years that Juliette at the very least refuses to bring anywhere near kids, terrified of the idea of giving one any of that.

Also, there's like weaponry in the bedroom. None of these people should ever have children is what I'm saying.

[fictionismyreality3]

Simon Introduces You

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, military stuff?, nsfw at the end because I’m a whore

Notes: somehow all of my drabbles end with a nsfw scene and I blame the worm in my brain that whispers sweet nothings to me in the night 😔🙏🏻

He would’ve kept you all to himself if the rest of the team (Johnny) hadn’t kept begging to meet you.

Soap saw that Ghost seemed to be on his phone more and more during down time, his fingers flying across the screen as he responded to someone or something. Even Price was getting curious.

“Who ye textin’, mate?” Johnny slid up next to Simon, poking him with a sing-song tone to his voice and a shit eating grin on his face. “Fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost snapped as he tucked his phone away. “C’mon, big guy, who’s the wee lass who got your balls in a-” Soap was subsequently silenced as Simon put him in a headlock.

Will debate even asking you about whether or not you wanted to meet his team for like 3 weeks at least. What little you know about his work is enough for him, he doesn’t want you in that world.

He had been acting quieter than his usual quiet self. “Simon? Have I done something? You can tell me.” Coming to stand beside him, you reached up and pressed a kiss to his chin. “No, no, dove. I just..” He trailed off, looking out the window. “If it’s about the dishes, I know I said I-” You were silenced by a firm kiss. “Nothin’ like that, luvie. It’s.. the lads wanna meet ya.” Your ears perked up and you swatted at his chest. “Why didn’t you just say that, silly?”

You were given explicit access to visit Simon at the base. Everyone was oddly polite and even looked at you with a little confusion. The poor private escorting you around kept calling you Mrs. Riley, and you had no doubt that was Simon’s doing.

Finally, you were ushered out to a training room of some kind, where you spotted Simon with some other men. “There you are, sweetheart.” He rumbled, coming over to you and wrapping you in his arms. “Missed you, Si.” Gaz had to literally close Soap’s mouth as they watched Ghost, the Ghost, dipping his head to press a kiss on the neck of a pretty girl. “M’glad you’re here, luv.”

The introduction went well, aside from Soap’s teasing. They were all very respectful, even though they all had an air of lethality. Simon kept his arm around you the whole time, internally growing irritated with the jeers about his girl.

Simon’s massive, gloved hand took up nearly your entire face as he muffled your cries. “Wanted me t’show you off, huh?” He growled into your ear as he pounded you into a random briefing room desk. “Wan’ the whole base know your mine, dovie.” Your eyes rolling back only served to remind Simon why he’d never share you. “You’re mine, my- oh god, my fuckin’ girl.” You blushed as you waved goodbye with hickeys you didn’t show up with.

[killerpancakeburger]

SILVER-TONGUED

SUMMARY: Soap drops by your office to pick you up, like every friday evening for your poker game with the Task Force. But when you turn out harder to remove from your desk than expected, he's going to resort to a different method.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Clingy!Soap, Established Relationship, fluff, swearing, mention of chronic pain, suggestive/light smut: dirty talking, gropping, foreplay (?), semi-public (happens in your office on base but no one walks in lol), (they keep their clothes on). Idk how to tag, help

WORDS COUNT: 1.2k

A/N: Just because I wish I had a Soap to sweet-talk me from my desk at the end of the workday. *sigh wistfully* This is the filthiest thing I've ever written, so... enjoy? But also forgive my amateurism.

Plunged into your work, you’re essentiellement deaf and blind to the outside world. When you notice Soap's presence, he had the time to sneak into your office and behind your chair, arms folded over your backrest. By the way he pronounces your name, you can tell this isn’t the first time he's calling it.

“Hey,” you salute, surfacing back to reality with difficulty, focus not leaving your computer's screen, but reaching backwards blindly with one hand for contact. He grabs it right away.

“What's up?”

He chuckles a bit at that.

“Day's over is what's up. Ye coming?”

Your eyes fly to the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. The evidence is damning: your shift has been over for ten minutes. It is far from unusual for you to stay too late, but tonight's friday and the 141's weekly poker game is summoning you in the form of an overeager Scotsman whose eyes you would damn yourself for.

On the field, the Sergeant MacTavish can remain immobile for hours on end with a sniper rifle in hand, stoically waiting for a target to get in his sights. On base however, your lover can hardly stay still more than a minute without a reason he'd deem legitimate.

His question is very much rhetorical. You tried to slip away once, not because you didn’t want to come but because you were worried the guys felt obligated to invite you out of politeness, and somehow Johnny must have read your mind because he snatched you and fireman carried you all the way there.

You wouldn’t have forgiven him if he had dared to pull those antics in front of others, but he managed to keep that spectacle just between the two of you. You still yelled at him a lot afterwards though. And punched him. And kicked him. Felt like hitting a punching bag anyway, so you didn’t feel guilt over the fact that he wasn’t defending himself at all. Once you were done huffing and puffing, you just glared at him, out of breath, fists clenched, and he stared back shamelessly, a grin on his face. The genuine joy in his expression was contagious, so you started laughing uncontrollably, and he joined you quickly. 

Coming from anyone else, this overly familiar behavior would have disturbed you. Being carried around like a helpless toy, powerless to resist someone else's will, wasn’t something you were fond of. But Soap proved himself time and time again to be safe. He could tell apart your serious reluctances from your playful protests, and if he had any doubt that you were uncomfortable, he would have stopped messing around instantly.

Deciding for you in that particular moment eased you off a burden, saving you from crippling indecisiveness and from endlessly weighing pros and cons in awkward silence. It was a favour.

You never contemplated refusing the offer again after that.

“In five minutes,” you bargain, not wanting to interrupt yourself in the middle of a task.

He loudly whines in protest at that, acting more distressed than he actually is.

“Nooo. Come ooon. Ye can finish later.”

“Be quiet,” you retort, and yet unable to curb an amused smile from stretching your lips.

He sighs exaggeratedly before admitting defeat. For exactly five minutes and not one second more.

“Bonniiiie.”

You don't relent.

“I'm almost done!”

“Ye were s'pposed to be done 20 minutes ago!”

You don't have any good argument to oppose that truth, so you remain silent. Soap does not.

He starts massaging your shoulders and dispensing cajoleries into your ear to coax you into compliance. You manage to tune him out until he curiously presses the tips of his fingers into your trapezius muscles and you wince. He lets out an impressed whistle.

“Fuck, yer tense. Yer shoulders feel like reinforced concrete.”

You sigh, having heard that one before.

“Bane of my existence,” you mumble absently.

He hums pensively, and you think that's the end of the matter, until his hand slides down your chest, all the way from your collarbone until your navel, leaving shivers in its wake, and his lips settle on the crook of your neck.

Concentrating suddenly becomes impossible.

“Johnny,” you call out in warning.

Or at least that was the goal, but you can hear in your own voice how affected you already are.

He treats his name like a demand for more, and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck and your shoulder, tugging on your collar to have more skin to work with. Meanwhile his hand caress and grope your torso, burning you through your clothes, in slow, unhurried motions that feel terribly suggestive. He knows your body so intimately well, only brushing the sore spots, like the side of your ribs, where the bone presses right beneath the skin, teasing the sensitive areas and tenderly stroking the rest.

“What do you think you're doing?” you contrive to ask, resisting the temptation to close your eyes to focus solely on his touch.

This may be afterhours, but you’re still in your work office, and anyone could barge in. While the idea may be arousing in theory, you know that the reality would mortify you.

“Just helpin’ ye relax, hen. Ye work too hard. Lemme take care o’ ye.”

Once again, you can’t find a good argument to oppose him. You do work too hard, and you desperately need to unwind before the pressure you self impose makes you explode like a time bomb. Since you've started dating, Soap had a tendency to mentor you into taking it easy, and he never steered you wrong until now.

You sigh in defeat, lift a hand to grasp his mohawk, letting your head tilt backwards, and surrender to his wandering hands and mouth.

Two fingers glide on the inside of your thigh, from knee to groin. In the meantime, his hand squeezes your breast. His lips stop from sucking and licking your flesh only to whisper filthy nothings into your ear.

“Could sneak under yer desk… make myself at home between yer legs… and let ye fuck my face while nobody knows. Would help with yer tension, ah'm sure.”

You suck in a gasp at the conjured mental image, legs spreading almost immediately. You, digging your fingernails into your palms with restraint, Johnny's cerulean eyes almost shining in the half-light of the bottom of your desk as he's staring hungrily at you, kneeling. Him raising a finger across his lips in silent command before spreading your knees further apart and nuzzling against your crotch. You fighting back against the urge to grind on his face and suffocate him between your thighs, the knowledge that he's not averse to the idea making things worse.

“Johnny,” you whimper, beguiled. “Fuck.”

He lets out an appreciative hum.

“Knew ye'd like that.”

The fingers tickling your inner thigh finally move to where you want them most. You grit your teeth to contain the moan that threatens to escape you as his middle finger runs up and down your slit.

Then the racket of your phone vibrating against the wood of your desk abruptly brings you back to reality. Your eyes open wide and you raise your head to see who's calling, only to swear in horror as Ghost's mask occupies the screen. As the contact's photo vanishes, a notification indicating seven missed calls makes your stomach twist in fear.

One does not stand up Lieutenant Riley and comes out unscathed.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ epilogue

note: im kinda sad to say, but this will be the final part of this series! im so so grateful for all the love and support for it, this was honestly so fun to write! i hope everyone enjoys and have a wonderful day/night!!!!<3<3<3

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n

reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: your night in date with simon :)

warnings: domesticity, so much fluff, soap and gaz are wingmen again, tiny bit of light angst

ao3

【prev】

of all the things in this world that could be considered intimidating, flowers were the last thing simon would put on that list; but the brightly coloured flora seemed to have a paralysing effect on him as he stands in the tiny flower shop.

with a quiet, defeated groan to himself, he dials johnny's number and presses his phone to his ear.

"what flowers am i supposed to buy?" he blurts no sooner than soap picks up, not even bothering to greet him in his haste.

"hello to you too?" johnny mumbles, his confusion evident. a moment passes before he registers what simon asked, "oh! wait," he laughs, his voice getting further away as he lowers his phone to call out, "gaz, get out here! lt.'s buyin' sting flowers!"

simon considers hanging up then and there, but he's severely out of his depth and unfortunately, soap and gaz are his only hope.

"oh i see, he needs an expert opinion, does he?" kyle's teasing gets louder as he approaches soap, and he can hear the smile in both the sergeants' voices.

really, simon should've known they wouldn't let him off easy.

"christ alive…" he keeps his voice as low as possible, pinching the bridge of his nose in the corner of the small shop. "just help me, you pillock." the cashier has been staring at him since he walked in, and honestly, he doesn't blame them; a giant man in a mask isn't exactly the regular clientele for a florist.

"uh, probably their favourite?" soap suggests, the sound of gaz's muffled chuckling just about audible in the background.

"they don't have 'em." simon replies, his eyes darting over the vibrant display one last time in the hopes that the answer would somehow appear.

"nah, you want roses, mate." gaz interjects, and he hears soap make an agreeing noise.

simon hums. "aren't they too… cliché?" he asks, stepping over to the large display of rose bouquets. it's the classic choice, he's aware of that much, but whether or not you'd prefer something more unique was weighing on his mind. this was something he never expected to have to worry about.

"no! they're romantic," gaz insists, his amusement still very evident in his voice, "trust me mate, sting'll love them."

simon contemplates his point for a moment, staring at the deep red petals and trying to imagine the look on your face if he gave them to you. you'd been happy with a handful of squashed flowers he'd stolen from the flowerbeds on base, so he doubted you'd turn your nose up at them. it doesn't take him long to make a decision.

"alright, cheers." he mutters, grabbing a lively looking bouquet of a dozen from the display and making his way over to the cashier – who was quickly trying to pretend they hadn't been staring.

"you'll need to give us a debrief–" soap begins, but he's cut off by simon hanging up and shoving his phone back in his pocket. he gets the feeling he won't be hearing the end of this for quite some time.

✹✹✹

it's only when he's standing outside the door to your room that the nerves finally start to set in. he can't help but feel like an idiot, fidgeting on the spot about to knock on your door like a lovestruck teenager, almost crushing the stems of the roses with his iron grip.

he knocks twice, before he has the chance to change his mind and back out. not even a second later, you're pulling the door open and regarding him with that warm look that has his palms sweating.

you're wearing casual clothes, and so is he, as per the agreement you made to keep this 'date' simple. it doesn't matter what you're wearing though; he's seen you covered head to toe in blood, sweat, mud, and whatever else, and you still manage to be utterly breathtaking in every way.

with a nervous cough, simon holds out the rose bouquet to you, hoping you don't notice the way his hands are shaking.

"wha…" you blink in surprise at the flowers, taking them from him and admiring them with a tiny smile. "you bought these, right? didn't just rip 'em out of someone's garden?" you raise a teasing eyebrow at him, your smile turning more playful.

"yes, i bought them." he grumbles lightheartedly, a smile of his own forming under his balaclava. the way you effortlessly diffuse the tension has his anxieties melting away.

"thank you." you breathe, softly caressing the vermillion petals. "they're lovely, i love them."

simon let's out a quiet sigh of relief at your affirmation. "good; cost me a tenner, they did."

the laugh you let out is like music to his ears. "well, i'm sorry to bankrupt you." you grin, turning back into your room and carefully putting the bouquet in the vase on the mantle. after making sure the arrangement looks nice, you come to stand in front of him again.

simon's not sure how to continue, the nerves from earlier resurfacing as the conversation fades. the way you're watching him expectantly, he feels the urge to take you by the hand – and as if you read his his mind, you hold it out for him. he places his hand in yours, squeezing gently and leading you the short distance to the kitchen.

he'd set the table earlier, having found an only slightly discoloured tablecloth buried in the back of the cupboards. it's a little sad, but it was the best he could come up with.

"wow," you tease, the same playful smile as before on your lips as you meet his eyes, "so fancy."

he snorts, ushering you over to your chair and pulling out for you. "only the best for your majesty." he preens at your happiness when you laugh again, glad for the mask covering what he's sure is an obvious blush.

he occupies himself by grabbing the two plates he'd finished preparing a minute ago, just before he'd met you at your door.

"i made spag bol." simon mutters as he sets them down on the table. he keeps an eye on your expression as he takes his seat opposite you, anticipation of whatever response you may have.

"fine by me," you say, an easy smile lifting your features. "it's almost the perfect candlelit dinner, all we're missing is the candle."

simon blinks. "you don't like candles." he replies, a hint of confusion in his gaze when he meets your eye.

"no," you smile fondly, looking down at your plate. "i don't."

a comfortable silence falls over the room as you both start to eat. the warmth and normality of it all makes simon’s heart swell with affection. he's happy, content, being here with you, even doing something as monotonous as eating dinner. you make it worth enjoying.

"how is it?" he asks once you've both finished, once again waiting apprehensively for your reaction.

"it's great," you give him a lopsided smile, resting your chin on your hand as you look at him. "thanks for cooking."

simon quirks an eyebrow at you. "you don't have to lie." he mutters, feeling the tips of his ears burn under your intense gaze.

"okay, well, don't quit your day job." you chuckle, standing up and making your way over to the sink with your plate in your hands.

he huffs a small laugh, and joins you at the sink with his own plate. "you're crushin' my dreams here."

"sorry, chef." you grin and gesture to the washing up in the sink. "you wash, i'll dry?"

"if your majesty insists."

you turn on the radio for some quiet background noise, and the two of you start cleaning up in tandem. it's nice, how you can work together so seamlessly with no need for words. he's struck again by the thought that if he were alone this would be a chore, but with you beside him, he finds such a tedious job surprisingly pleasant.

simon hands the last dish to you, and as you take it your fingers brush against his hand. the way he flinches away from your touch is unconscious, and when he looks over to you he expects you to pity him, or be offended by his action – but your face holds neither of those things.

you're just drying the dish he handed you, the same content expression on your face that had been there all night, as if you didn't even notice.

"sorry." he mumbles, his gaze falling from your face to your hands as you work.

simon loves you. he shouldn't be afraid of your touch. he wants to touch you, and for you to touch him. he doesn't know why he reacted like that.

"don't be." you utter, soft and compassionate, and his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. for the third time that night, he's hit full force with how wonderful you are.

there's no judgement, no probing questions, nothing. you understood him, even though you had no idea why he acts this way.

you turn away, your back to him as you store the dishes in the cabinets. you hadn't been looking at him before, but now he was sure you couldn't see him, he feels his throat constrict with the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.

simon takes your free hand and you pause, still facing away as you wait for his next move.

he takes a small step closer, minimising the space between you, and rests his forehead against the back of your head. with his eyes screwed shut, he takes a deep breath and inhales the familiar scent of you. his grip on your hand tightens slightly.

you lean back into him, a quiet sigh escaping you as you squeeze his hand in return. neither of you say a word, but you don't have to. he feels how you love him in the way you never expect more from him than he can give.

it's the most peace he's felt in years.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness ,

@madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology

[gh0stjae]

I Wanna Ride- J.S

Ship- Bestfriend!johnny , fem!reader

Type- smut (18+)

Word count- 896

Summary- joking about your best friends grey sweatpants somehow turns into you getting the best dick of your life.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Staring at your Best Friend Johnny…I wonder how big his c- you shouldn’t think about him that way! It was hard not to as he sat manspread with his goddamn gray sweatpants on. You could see a faint outline of his soft cock and it STILL looked big. You guys are Bestfriends so of course you talked about your genitals to each other, and he had always said he was big but you always doubted him…and now you wanted to see. “Close your legs, I can see everything” you grumbled and crossed your arms “what? Mad you can’t take a ride?” Johnny said sassily with a soft smirk. Your cheeks turned red and eyebrows furrowed “I could ride you but I choose not too” you tried to say with confidence but Johnny saw right through that terrible lie. “Is that so? Or is it because you can’t handle me?”

Johnny pushed. You felt your cheeks heat up even more, you were like a tomato. “I can and will ride you” you said with fake confidence. Johnny smiled “oh yeah? Come here then” he held his arms out and watched you crawl into his lap. “Get me hard, idiot” Johnny said with a smirk. You smiled and bit your bottom lip, this isn’t what best friends do…but he told You too…it was offered, it was different. You reached down and slowly stroked him through his sweatpants, he was big…even soft. Johnny let out a soft groan, music to your ears. You could feel his cock getting hard under your touch, slowly swirling your thumb over the leaking tip that caused a small wet spot on the crotch of his gray sweatpants.

Johnny softly moaned your name as you touched him… he moaned YOUR name, your Bestfriend MOANED your name! Now he was fully hard, all 8 inches. He pulled his sweatpants down slightly and pulled his cock out for you to see “good luck riding me” Johnny said and smirked. “Oh shut it” you mumbled, gasping suddenly when you felt Johnny’s fingers in between your legs on your core. You sighed in pleasure as you felt his soft fingers running along your sopping folds. “Fuck…” you mumbled as you slowly rolled your hips along his fingers. Whines left your mouth as one of Johnny’s fingers dip into you.

Johnny slowly fingered you open with two fingers, soft moans filled the room. He was praising you “you’re taking my fingers so well y/n” he pulled his fingers out and put them in his own mouth, licking them clean. God he was so sexy…”can I kiss you?” Johnny asked, catching you off guard. You smiled shyly before leaning in and pressing your lips onto his. “Of course” you said against his lips, feeling him smile. You guys shared a soft and loving kiss, it felt like you guys had done this before a million times. You lined yourself up before slowly sinking down onto his cock, letting out a struggled whimper. Johnny kissed you deeper to distract you from the pain, pulling you closer by your hips. You sighed as you finally took him in completely, a soft bulge formed on your stomach from how much his cock filled you up. “Move when you are ready” he said as he trailed kisses down your neck as a way to soothe you.

Soon enough you finally stopped feeling the stinging pain of the stretch that Johnny caused so you slowly lifted up from his cock to move up and then went back down, repeating the slow and soft motion that forced soft moans from you and Johnny both. “Fuck you feel so tight and good” Johnny praised you, groaning softly against your skin on your shoulder. That’s the one thing about Johnny that you just now learned, he was vocal about how good you felt. Taking any chance in the world to tell you how good your pussy is. You finally got a good pace going, squeezing Johnny’s large cock ever so perfectly that made him a moaning mess just as much as he made you. “Fuck I can’t take it” Johnny groaned before lifting your hips up and held you in the air before thrusting up harshly into you, loud moans filled the room from the sudden, yet amazing, powerful thrusts that Johnny filled you with. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he fucked you harshly. Your pussy squeezed him more as you started to get closer to your orgasm.

Johnny groaned deeply “god your pussy is so good” he moaned out as he watched you intently. the way you bounced and took his cock in…he could get used to this. The sight of you taking in his cock so good, he could see every single day without getting tired of it. “I’m g-gonna cum Johnny” you cried out as he fucked you harshly up into the air. “Cum for me” Johnny growled as he thrusted even harder into you. And as he demanded, you came. Pussy squeezing Johnny’s cock that forced the cum right out and filled you completely up with his hot cum. Your body shook, eyes rolled back. Moans filled the room loudly, you had never came this hard from any other man. He was the best you ever had…your Bestfriend was the best cock you had ever had…

[nrdmssgs]

How your first kisses with Ghost, Soap, Gaz would feel

Masterlist Part 2 (Price, Nikolai, König) Part 3 (Nikto, Gromsko)

Ok, guys, let's go kiss some boys. No warnings here.

Simon Ghost Riley

At the point when you finally kiss, it feels like being able to breathe at last. The longing has been suffocating you, roaring like a forest fire deep inside your mind. When his lips brush against yours - you are exhausted after weeks, maybe months of self-restraining. You've been fighting your own thoughts, pacifying your needs. And Simon is here to finally let you lose yourself in the moment.

Cautious at first, your kiss grows more desperate with each next touch and every smallest caress. It's not the first kiss in your life, but it certainly feels like it. He doesn't just caress your soft lips - he shares his admiration for you, all tenderness, he never showed anyone before.

Eventually he will force himself to stop, cradle your head, let his fingers drown in your hair and switch his attention to peppering your face with little kisses. There is so much, he needs to tell you, but can express only with a touch.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

You still hear distant voices, music, laughs and exclamations, when he lifts you off the ground and spins around. Your dear Johnny, always there to make you laugh. Whispering sweet nothings, coating every word with thick accent, the sound of which makes you fluster sometimes.

You will laugh, barely managing to breathe, until his lips cover yours. No more spinning, ambient sounds fade away - only you being held in his arms so carefully now, only his little breaths echoing softly in your ears. Johnny doesn't let go, making a point: this is not a random whim, not a joke gone too far. He wanted it for so long, he's been dreaming of this very second, imagining how would it feel to hold you this close. But what you both get is a precious silence, that speaks louder than all the words shared.

A kiss, soft and tender. Then another one. Then the third. Each next is harder, deeper, so the last one is full of a fervent urgent need. Just linger in this moment for a little longer, and you won't be able to think of anything else, than him gently nibbling on your lower lip, ravishing in your deepened breaths and accelerating pulse.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

You might have anticipated something very modest and sweet. But somehow you end up clinging to his jacket, not wanting to let go, while he slowly caresses your lips with the most intoxicating touches. But that's Kyle, the sweetest guy out there, what are you even do-

"I should stop."

"Now should you really?"

And he deepens the kiss, bringing you even closer. And who could blame you for forgetting every bit of doubt and losing control, when Kyle is taking your breath away quite literally? Kyle turns out to be an absolute siren: his half-lidded eyes shine with pure joy and darken with desire, his face leans into your touch, his soft groan becomes the end of you.

[doctorcurdlejr]

Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

[ro-is-struggling]

First Impressions || Johnny Storm x Reader

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

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

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

English is not my first language

Word count: 1200

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

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

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

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

“No.” Johnny lied. “I just...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your early class?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are your intentions with my friend?”

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

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

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

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

Oh, so that was her name!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wasn't wrong.

[pixeechix21]

All I want for Christmas 🎄

Simon!Ghost!Riley x fem!reader 12 days of Christmas

Summary: It's your turn to sit on Santa's lap. Tell him what you want and maybe he's feeling giving enough to grant you your wish.

TW: nothing really just good old smut, with some role play?, n sweet names and praise the usual 😊💕

I'm sorry but what the heck is this man doin in this gif?? 🤨

You promised your best friend you wouldn’t get that drunk. But after hearing the 141 boys were hosting a Christmas party you couldn’t help yourself. 

Dancing and chatting with your friends, you abruptly hear clapping and jeers. Entering the room is a dressed up Price. You and the girl's dog whistle him as he walks past. “Red looks good on you Simon,” you cheer. 

Johnny had managed to coerce Simon to dress up as Father Christmas. Placing him on the “throne” near the karaoke machine. “Come up! Come up everyone! Santa’s lap is open for all. Don’t miss your chance lassies and you Gaz I ya lookin’ at him!” Everyone lifts their cheers as Gaz is shoved to the front. Smiling widely, Simon’s cheerful eyes meet yours. He winks subtly, making your stomach flip and turn. 

Gaz does his theatrics, sitting on his lap and fake fanning his face in excitement. He leaves, giving Simon a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “thank you thank you! I promise I’ve been good!”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Simon shoves him off jokingly. Keeping his eyes on you Simon opens his legs leaning back and patting it, “for you,” he mouths. 

Jonny sees you in your costume. You’d lost a bet and had to dress up as a slutty elf. “Maybe Santa’s elf wants to finally sit on the throne,” he comes to you, you weakly attempt to back away. From behind you’re shoved into his arms . He takes you to Simon, excitedly. Sitting on his lap, Simon snakes his hand around your waist. Johnny is about to open his mouth ready to make a joke but Simon beats him to it. “That’s enough Soap, now fuck off.” He doesn't spare him another glance.

Sitting there on his lap, you pray he can’t feel heartbeat. “So, tell me, have you been good, my sweet?” His tone has changed, low and private between the two of you. Your hand loops around his neck running your nails through his hair. If it wasn’t for the loud music and chatting crowd you swear you would have heard him groan. “I’ve tried to be,” you sit up further on his lap, “I’ve tried to be a good girl, just for you,’ you whisper, he looks hungrily at your soft lips. 

“Is there anything you want this year, since you’ve been on your best behavior?” His thumb starts to draw lazy circles on your exposed inner thigh. Close, so dangerously close, you lightly clench your thighs. 

“There is one thing you could give me,” you don’t recognize your own sultry voice. Glad everyone is too drunk to notice.

“Mmm. What’s that my sweet?” he inhales as he pushes away your hair, leaving your neck exposed. You inhale shakily.

“You.” you let out weakly melting into his increasingly possessive grip. You’re without a doubt that he can feel your heartbeat throbbing, on his leg.

“I didn’t hear you my little elf,” his hand inches up, under the mini skirt. 

“I- i want- you.” you place your hand on his muscled chest. 

“Me too darling,” he doesn’t waste time scooping you up in a bridal hold. He gets up leaving the room smiling at Soap as you two pass by. Over his shoulder you see Johnny’s shocked expression, mouth wide open. 

Simon is on a mission, he bursts through an office door. Shutting it he adjusts your legs to wrap around his waist. He captures your lips between his, crashing into you removing all air from your lungs. You sink into him, inhaling his deep kisses. Your hands scratch all over his body trying to take off his ridiculous clothes. “God y/n,” he kisses hot trails across your collarbone. 

“I need you Si. I need you in me,” you whine as he helps you undo his belt. You’re so wet against his palm, his index and middle finger running along you sweet cunt. 

“I know, I can feel you,” he pinches lightly the growing bud of your clit. A shot of fireball couldn’t compare to the dizziness that fogs your mind. You buck and moan beautifully in his ear. “Don’t want the others to see how bad you’ve been,” he takes out his cock, running himself up and down. Slapping your clit you jolt at the sharp sensation. He moves the panties to the side. “Let me give you what you want luv. Relax for me,” biting his neck, his enlarged tip pushed past your entrance. “Take it, it’s just for you my sweet,” he pants as one hand supports your ass, the other caging you in, hand on door. 

Using his powerful muscles he fucks you. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and sinch his waist. “Fuck- Simon- I need you,” head resting on his shoulder, you kiss his neck refraining the loud whines from falling past your lips. 

“That’s it baby, it’s all yours,” he growls. And you do, you take every fucking painful inch of his throbbing cock. Hitting the sweet spot deep within you. 

“Simon,” you moan, clawing at him. He doesn’t stop. The friction of your panties stimulate your clit. You fuck him back, taking his lips with yours. Licking, biting, breathing messily. Your climax overcomes every single muscular control you hold. Sighing into his mouth he sucks your hot whining. He’s not far behind you as he jerks, coming as he feels you around him. 

Setting you down gently he steadies you, before you can stumble. Putting your panties back as you help zip his trousers.

Flushed and tired, you figure it’d be best to go to bed. Holding you close he walks you to your room, always alert.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hi! Kind of a long ask sorry.

I just read the 3rd chapter of "Your ride will be here shortly" and i had a thought. Will reader try to go Kung Fu panda on them? Like she just snaps and starts throwing punches

(she somehow takes them by surprise and manages to hurt one of them, like she gives soap a black eye or something)

and Price and Gaz get there and they're just looking at soap staying there like this 🧍‍♂️with a black eye.

OMG ANON I'M TRYING TO IMAGINE THIS AND IT'S AWESOME- 141 are just lucky that Reader isn't too aggressive in the fic lmao. Because there is a right assessment from her point of view, she would probably not be able to win in a fight against two trained soldiers. Even if she didn't know they were in some military structure, they are still giant, burly, and look(and sound) scary as hell. You wouldn't be able to win a fight against them...if they are sleepy and kinda tired after a night of good sex, however, you could at least leave them with bruises. Maybe a black eye, just something to remember you by. Neither Soap nor Ghost wants to hurt you too much - especially after the struggle you put up the previous night. If anything, they want you to release some of the energy, so you could be submissive and soft for the rest of the boys once again, when you're tired enough. Johnny would literally get off on you punching him, so he volunteers to be your punching bag while Ghost is too busy trying not to laugh. He would humiliate you so much though( asking you to hit harder, to put up a better fight because Captain is going to come and punish you properly. Gaz and Price who arrive and just...you kidnapped a feral cat, not a girlfriend that could be shared between four of them!! They love you, of course, because your struggle makes everything much more fun. Still, I doubt reader would really be able to put up more than a few good punches on them before she is overwhelmed and forced to take whatever they can give. As softly as possible obvi.

[captain-mj]

09Soapghost heellll yeah. Captain MacTavish going uno reverse and going aha now you can’t get rid of me. Prepare to be made to heel

Draft

You got the psychic messages I was adding to the post

It started with the interrogation. That was it. With Ghost breaking that person down to nothing with Soap's help. If Soap gave a suggestion, which he did only when he wasn't sure he could stomach doing it himself so rarely, Ghost would do it.

Right now, he was running a flame over one of his knives, no doubt about to do something awful with it while Soap sat in front of the guy, waiting for the fear to build enough for him to back down.

And when Ghost put the burning red knife next to his eye, swaying it slightly like he might just drop it on him, he broke. He blabbered on and on and on about this and that and whatever. Soap took the important things down.

"Can I see my wife?"

Soap was just about to answer when Ghost did. He never spoke during things like this. Not wanting people to hear his voice. But Price had told him to kill the guy afterward and that was enough for him to not care. "Yeah. You can see her." He cocked his gun and put it between his eyes.

"My wife isn't dead." The man looked angry.

"Course she is. Suicide to be exact. Apparently a couple of our boys got a little rough. Made some comments. I wonder, did she kill herself to prevent being defiled or because she was afraid of being used against you? Which one? Did she love your country more than you? Just like you did her."

The man started to curse and sob and bitch in Russian.

Ghost let him for a moment, enjoying this Soap realized, before moving the sunglasses to the top of his head to uncover his eyes. "Look me in the eyes. I want to see you die."

The gunshot was loud and it echoed. And Ghost put the gun back in place.

"His wife is safe and sound in a house not too far from here. Why did you lie?"

"So when he gets to whatever afterlife there is, he searches for her for years, not know she just isn't there yet. I like the think the grim reaper is in on the joke and plays along."

"You're a sick fucking bastard." Soap said and meant it.

Ghost looked at him. And those eyes... stone cold dead. Nothing fucking there. On anyone else, they'd be gorgeous. Beautiful browns like several of the sweet little things Soap picked up at bars. But there was not a hint of emotion in those things at all. "You know I am."

That's when Soap realized that Ghost was a little feral. Demented even. Something was Fucking wrong with him.

It didn’t scare him as much as it should. His head gets a little fuzzy at the thought actually.

There were other moments. Times where Ghost would be a little more fucked up around him. Letting Soap catch him licking one of his knives or purposely dragging out someone's death for his own pleasure.

Somehow it was made worse by the moments of Ghost's humanity. HIs humming. His inane way of making tea and how he disliked coffee and his stupid jokes. It was at such odds with the way he looked at him, dangerous and mutant.

Until Soap found himself cornered by Ghost who was trying to tower over him despite their size difference being laughably small. Only an inch or so. And his shoulders weren't that bad, but they weren't much against his own. Riley just wasn't doing a good job of being intimidating, especially considering Soap had seen him do far better with enemies.

"MacTavish." He growled at him.

Soap looked at him. "Simon. Heel, boy."

Ghost stared at him blankly, only those dead black eyes looking at him.

"You're not getting rid of me, Simon. So go ahead and get used to it."

He scoffed like Johnny was the dumbest motherfucker ever. "You don't own me. Can't tell me what to do."

"Heel, Simon." Soap whispered at him, patting his side. "You're not going to get my attention like this."

Riley growled at him again.

"That's your problem. Can barely touch ya. You hide under that mask like a coward. So you skulk around and hope I'll kick you away."

Riley made a ragged noise and almost barked at him. "Fuck you."

"I'll kick you when I want." Soap hissed and shoved him to the side, noticing how he moved so easily.

That exchange was why he didn't feel as much as surprise as one would expect to find Ghost unmasked in his room late at night, knife in hand.

Soap looked at Riley, watching his breathing as ragged as it was. Looking at how he looked defenseless despite holding a knife. He flipped it in his fingers and held out the handle.

“Captain, I’d let you do anything to me.” His tone was steady, even maybe a tad breathless. There was no hesitation or pain in the admittance.

Soap frowned at him but his interest was undeniable piqued. “Anything I wanted?” He took the knife and dragged it along his jugular. Just letting him feel it.

It was the first break in the facade. A small painful sound. “Yes. Anything. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For giving you this burden.” Ghost choked out. “Anything you want.”

Soap shouldn’t push. He knew Ghost didn’t say things like this lightly. But he did anyway. “Even sex? I know how you are.”

Ghost shivered but it wasn’t from fear. His pupils were blown and he reacted like he had not considered this option. “I haven't had sex in years. But if it would please you. I’d let you fuck me however you want. Even if it’s the same way they did. Even if it's worse. As long as it's you."

“You’d let me kill you.” Soap waited for something. A survival instinct of some kind. But Ghost licked his pretty lips.

“Johnny, if you asked, I’d beg you to. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Beg.”

Ghost gently grabbed the wrist that was controlling the knife as it went further down but still didn’t cut. He just needed the stability. “Please. Whatever you want. You want me dead? Do it. I’ll write up a note saying i asked for it. You want me kill someone for you and I will. Bleed me dry, Johnny. I’ll enjoy it.”

Soap looked at where he was clearly hard in his pants. “Should I get you off first?”

“If you think I deserve it.” Ghost exposed his throat for him, swallowing.

The knife hit the floor and Soap kissed him properly. Really kissed him. He dragged him up and out of the chair. Ghost sobbed against his mouth but he ignored it, instead laying him out over his desk.

Soap wasn’t cruel. He could be stern and mean but cruelness was never his thing. And in this moment, he wished nothing more to be cruel. To be able to rend Ghost down in a way that he clearly needed.

Instead, he undid his belt. "Simon."

"Yes, sir?" Ghost looked at him, biting his lip delicately.

"I am going to fuck you. Gonna let you sit there and just feel it. Be real good to you. And when I'm done, you're going to warm my cock under my desk."

Ghost softened, eyelashes fluttering. If not for the scars, he'd be model material. But Soap preferred him with the scars. "Thank you."

He kept lotion at his desk, something that Gaz usually teased him over, but it was perfect for right now. Using a generous amount to make it easier for him. One finger in and he already felt tighter than anything else Soap had fucked in... ever. "You weren't kidding. Practically a virgin huh?"

Ghost tensed up and Soap could feel it around his finger. "Hey, it's okay. I like it. Feels like I'm getting to break you in."

A sweet moan. "Yes. You want me to tell you how big you feel? I know you're probably packing. I'll even exaggerate. Tell you how you're breaking me."

"Only if that's what it really feels like." Soap assured, realizing just how much of a freak Ghost was. And subsequently how much of a freak he was himself, because this was all getting him going. Still, he worked him open until he could easily take three fingers and the lotion was starting to overflow.

Soap knew what he had. He had been turned down by a partner or two because of the size. And the way Ghost arched to keep taking it. Thighs trembling. It gave him a sense of satisfaction.

"I don't need to make you crave me. You already do."

"Yes, sir." He sounded strained but he managed the words.

"How do you feel?"

Ghost put his forehead against the soft wood. "Like you're breaking me." He shook and sobbed, but Soap knew if he pulled that pretty head up and made him look at him, there wouldn't actually be any tears.

A slow gentle push and pull. Soap didn't mind, the tightness and the pressure doing everything he needed. Ghost never asked for more. Though if it was because he was pleased, it was too much or he'd only take what he was being given was a mystery.

He abused his prostate. Mentally tallied how many times he hit it dead on as Ghost's body betrayed him. Causing his hips to cant up for more or his body to thrash until he fell against the desk like his strings had been cut.

And then Soap felt the tell tale tightening around his cock. Rhythmic and still desperate. "You came?"

Ghost nodded against the desk but didn't show his face. The back of his neck was a bright red.

"So the dead can blush."

Soap sped up a little, focusing on his own pleasure, and Ghost would clench every time he went all the way in, and then he came too. Deep inside so Ghost would struggle to clean it out.

Ghost got up and got on his knees. Soap gave him his shirt back so he wouldn't be half dressed.

"My life is yours." Simon Riley mumbled to him and the look he gave him was the same dead eyed stare as always.

Soap smiled at him anyway. "Thank you. It's a gift I'll appreciate."

For a brief moment, there seemed to be something like contentment in Ghost's eyes before closing his eyes and starting his job of pleasing his Captain.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Leave a light on

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

Zombie au, don’t like don’t read.

Synopsis: When a scouting mission goes south and the 141 get stranded for days without help. They got told they would be sent updates for evac everyday at dawn. A hope to get out alive. So when the day came that Shepherd broke the news that they are on their own and a member died, they decided to try and make it back themselves. Ghost loses it at the sight of seeing Shepherd once they return.

Word count: 4.102

Masterlist

In the early stages of the outbreak, the government tried to keep control of the situation as much as they possibly could by sending out whatever was left of the military and mowing down the infected with the limited amount of ammunition they had. Once they realized that won’t work they decided scouting missions would be the plan to scavenge for various things that could be proved useful. However, people will get infected, specifically people who are fed up with living behind walls and want to try and survive out there. Outside of the safe sanctuary, the not-so-experienced won’t even last a day. And the military? Well, only the elite teams and some mercenaries are left. Within a week the majority of the emergency workers and military ceased to function. Too few of them to do something. Sooner than later, soldiers started dropping like flies, most of them turned as well and had to be killed by their own brothers and sisters during the ‘mowing down as many infected as you can’ operations. Which was just sending young men and women to their deaths. Once supplies started running low, the people who are running the shitshow have decided to send the 141 for supply runs. That currently is a 5 man army. Somehow you’ve always scrapped by some miracle.

Except this time. Eventually, you find yourselves trapped in an abandoned hotel, which is no doubt filled with those infected. With a horde of infected waiting outside of the building, there’s no way to get out of there. With no ammunition, and a limited amount of rations. The only thing you have going for yourselves is you’re all still alive granted, a little worse for wear, but still alive, and a radio. You’re hiding in the lobby of the hotel. You hear occasional bangs of infected trying to get into the building and the moaning and groaning that comes with the package. John immediately goes into captain mode. Something he frequently does when you leave the walls to go for supplies runs. “Soap, Gaz. Make sure to keep an eye on those infected outside and that they don’t come inside. If they come inside we’re in trouble. Ghost, radio Shepherd. Tell him we are stranded and need help getting out of this shithole. Hawk, you’re with me. We’re going to explore this place a bit. For if we need to retreat further into the building we can.” ‘Roger’ and ‘copy that’ are said and you all get to work. Simon immediately gets on the radio and tries contacting the general. He glances at you as you get ready to head with John further in. “Be careful.” You nod and give him a small smile as you check your gear, “you know I am.” He stares at you with worried eyes but says nothing. He continues fiddling with the radio. The thing is barely working but it’s one of the only options you have. Johnny and Kyle are watching the infected intently, specifically at the weak spots, like the windows and doors. If they start cracking they need to move instantly.

You move with John through the lobby as you traverse the ground floor of the hotel. “Keep your gun up and check your corners.” John says quietly, not wanting to alert the undead if they are here. “Yes sir,” you mutter out. You enter the restaurant area. It’s completely covered in blood but no undead to be seen. Either they’ve been dealt with before or they moved somewhere else. You can see that John comes to the same conclusion as you, “let’s keep moving.” You nod as you follow him. You continue doing the same for the kitchen area. Noticing it’s empty as well, you lower your gun and check the cabinets. Not bothering with the fridge, food in there would be spoiled by now. You grab whatever canned foods you can find and store them in your backpack. John does the same. With this routine, you secure the ground floor.

Meanwhile, Simon has made contact with Shepherd, “General. We need immediate help. We are surrounded by a horde of infected. We are currently holed up in the hotel.” He hears crackling as he awaits an answer from the general, “I hear you. We will try and lure the infected away, I will update you.” Simon mutters out a ‘copy that’ before letting go of the button. Now it’s time to play the waiting game and hope they don’t have to play it for too long. Simon pulls out his journal from his bag. Ever since the outbreak started he started journaling. It’s to help keep him sane, but it’s also to keep track of the evolution of the undead and the decline of humanity. He pulls out a pen as well and starts writing.

Day 109

Today we got sent out for another supply run as we’re running low on everything. Things went south when a horde of infected surrounded us. Now we’re stuck in the abandoned hotel awaiting evac from General Shepherd. I got assigned the radio while Kyle and Johnny were watching the windows and doors. John and (Y/n) were exploring the hotel in case we needed to retreat further in the building.

Shepherd said he will update us, this could take hours or even days.

- Simon

He draws a little skull face next to his name. A habit that you got him into. You said that during these unfortunate times, a little fun will be a good thing to make it less depressing. Sooner than later you and John return. You’ve cleared the ground and first floor. No undead lurking around those areas. You’re free to retreat in any of those areas if it comes down to it. Kyle and Johnny share their observations concerning the windows, stating they will do but won’t last long. Simon conveys Shepherd’s words along. That evacuation might take a couple of days. So either find a way back yourselves or wait for Shepherd to send help. You’d rather find a way yourselves than wait on that snake. You can tell by the others’ expressions they feel the same way as you do. John calls out, “we’ll wait for Shepherd. We have better chances of getting out of this, all of us. If we can get some help clearing the guys outside.” No one is too happy with his decision but you trust his intuition. He has gotten you all out before on past missions and during the apocalypse, so why won’t he now?

The rest of the day is spent chatting amongst yourselves and watching the windows. You’ve agreed that for the night you’ll alternate, with at least 2 at a time. You can’t take any risks. You would hate to wake up with a zombie chewing on your leg if you accidentally fall asleep, that would be just unfortunate. You and Simon take the first watch. Letting the others get some rest. You watch as the undead growls angrily at you through the glass. Simon puts an arm around your waist, “seems so surreal, doesn’t it?” You nod, it really does. “Funny how we used to joke that it would never happen, now look where we are.” You say bitterly. He nods, “can’t say we’re prepared for this either.” Comfortable silence envelopes you, aside from the groaning and banging. “Tomorrow John and I are checking the rooms on the second floor. Those are likely to be filled with infected.” You grimace at the thought of them. Yes, you’ve killed countless of them, but it doesn’t make them any less disgusting. He glances at you before turning his gaze to the windows again, “I can go instead of you if you’d feel safer.” He offers. Your eyes soften at his proposal, “it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” You lightly jest. You can tell he’s smiling behind the balaclava with the way his eyes are crinkling. “I do not doubt that, lovie.” You change the subject, “can I borrow your journal?” He raises an eyebrow but gives it to you nonetheless. You grab a pen out of your pocket and flip to his latest entry. You smile at the little skull face. You draw a tiny hawk next to it with a few endearing words and close the journal handing it back to him. You’ve done the same thing to some of his other entries. You have no clue if he has noticed. If he has then he hasn’t said anything about it.

After some time passes you get relieved by Kyle and John. You wordlessly get up and head back to where Johnny is probably snoring away. You spot him resting on his pack, using it as a pillow. Completely out cold. Simon snickers at the sight while you let out a small chuckle. Simon does the same, he sets his pack down on the floor and uses it as a pillow. He beckons you over with his arms outreached. You smile as you shuffle over into his arms. He rests your head on his chest, allowing you to use him as a pillow. He drapes his jacket over you two to act as a blanket. Even in a precarious situation, moments like these with him are the safest you could ever be. “Get some rest, lovie. You’ll need the energy.” He didn’t have to say that twice. A few seconds later you’re immediately out.

The next morning you wake up to the crackle of the radio. Simon is already up and listening to it. He sits on the floor with your head in his lap as he plays with your hair. He notices that you’re awake. He looks down at you, “good morning. Sleep well?” You smile tiredly at him, “yeah I did.” He nods before turning his attention back to the radio once he hears his name. You can faintly hear Shepherd’s voice on the radio. As the two continue their exchange you get up and walk over to John, who’s already up and probably waiting for you. You greet him as you grab your gear. He smiles briefly at you before nodding, “ready to go?” You nod, “ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.” No further words need to be said, he leads the way to the second floor.

As you head up the stairs. John speaks in a hushed manner, “just like yesterday. Guns up and check your corners. We’re likely to see them here, especially in the rooms.” He informs you. “Got it.” You check your corners as you move through the hallway. While John goes the other way. Sure enough, there’s an infected standing idly in the middle. Its joints are misaligned and softly grunting. You raise your gun to its head and fire. The silencer made sure that others weren’t alerted to your position. It slumps to the floor in a heap. Soon John rounds the corner and looks at the body on the floor and then at you. “That makes three then.” You nod. “Let’s check the open rooms, could be they have something useful for us.” You follow him as you clear rooms together, shooting down unsuspecting infected as well. You search the rooms for left-behind canned goods, ammunition, anything that can be proven useful. Most of these rooms have come up empty or the only things left behind are useless objects. John shakes his head as he emerges from a bathroom, “nothing useful here. Let’s go, we’ll check the other floor.” He says as he moves to the staircase. “Roger.” You quietly stick behind him, raising your gun as you go up. He holds his hand up as he motions there are three of them in front of him. You nod as you wait for his signal to take them down together.

He gives the go and you swiftly take care of them. They slump to the floor. You move up using the same strategy before. You’ll pinch them in the hallway and clear rooms together. He heads the other way as you continue going forward. You come across two more. You shoot them down and meet up with John. You hear two more thuds, signaling that he killed two as well. He comes into your sight as you lower your gun. “Fuck there’s a lot up here.” He whispers. You hum in agreement. “John. I think we should head back. There’s likely to be more in the rooms and there’s only two of us. If we get overwhelmed in a small confined room… It's too risky.” You warn him. He takes in your words. He knows you’re right. “Let’s go. You’re right, it’s not worth it. If anything happens we can just run to the roof.” You smile gratefully at him, happy that he considered your advice. You head back to the group. The two are still watching the ones outside and Simon is messing with the radio. John gives him a look. Simon shakes his head, “nothing new.” He says in frustration. “We might need to find our own way out soon.” He states. Or what he’s trying to say is, ‘Shepherd is going to leave us high and dry.’ John sighs, “I know.”

Night falls, the groaning and moaning outside lessens as they can’t see you inside anymore. You sit with Simon as the guys chatter about mindless things to pass the time. He wraps his arms around your waist as he converses with Johnny. Eventually its lights out as you all settle down for the night.

A few days pass with the usual things happening around you. John and you have cleared the way to the roof, Kyle and Johnny expressing their concerns with the window that’s separating the army of undead from you. Simon is still on the radio, growing more frustrated by the day. With the lack of updates, everyone is growing a bit restless. Well aware that you are in trouble if they don’t make an effort for you. As a new dawn comes you can hear Simon yelling into the radio. “What the fuck do you mean you’re holding off on support?!” His yelling wakes the others aside from John, who’s staring at the infected outside with a grimace. “So that’s it?! You’re leaving us?!” You hear him shout again. You aren’t stupid, you all know what’s going on. The general is abandoning you. The banging on the windows intensifies. Suddenly you hear cracking before glass shatters everywhere. “Everyone! To the roof now!” John barks out as he runs. You all follow suit, knowing damn well you can’t fight off the horde. You bolt up the stairs, the zombies following you, clambering up. Price pushes the door and holds it open as he waits for you all.

You make it through, the only one who hasn’t yet is Simon. As you look behind you to see what’s happening, your eyes widen in horror. You see him on the floor with one of those grabbing onto one of his legs. He’s kicking frantically at it, trying to keep its jaws off of him. You all left your guns behind in the panic. You pat your holster for your pistol and pull it out. You aim at the snarling thing and fire. Except it doesn’t fall back. Your pistol clicks, making you realize it’s empty. You’re out of ammo. In a panic you rush over to him, and you see the rest of the horde also closing in on him. He looks at them and then at you. “No! Stay back! There’s too many, just go!” You shake your head as you ignore his orders. There’s still time. You notice that the creature’s bottom half is still inside the stairwell. You run over and slam the door shut as much as it can go. You can feel the other zombies crashing into the door you’re desperately trying to keep shut. Their hands reaching out and trying to grab at you and Simon. Some have their heads sticking out as they try to snap their jaws at you. You grimace in disgust.

Simon kicks harder but the damn thing is determined to stay on him. Not thinking straight, you push your leg out to shove it away. Revealing your leg as its new meal. It snaps its head to your leg shoving it back inside the stairwell and latches onto you. Simon quickly pulls his leg out as he watches it bite you. You rip your leg out of its mouth in pain. Simon helps you shut the door completely and barricades it. He looks at you and then at your leg. You look at your leg in more detail. A bite mark. You realize you’re going to be one of them. His eyes soften, “lovie…” he gently calls out. You snap your head to him before screaming out in anger, and frustration. You ran out of luck. The others can only look on in surprise. It all happened so fast. One minute you were fine and the next you’re going to turn into one of those.

Eventually, your screams of anguish die down and are instead replaced by sobs as you collapse to the floor of the roof. Simon immediately falls next to you and cradles you in his arms, trying his best to comfort you. A few tears of his own slip, aware of what's going to happen. He shushes you as he tries to get his words across, “everything will be fine. You’ll be okay. Nothing will happen.” He blurts out. You both know those are empty promises. Everything is far from fine, you won’t be okay, and you’ll turn into one of them. That’s the hard truth. But it does the trick, it stops your mind from going into overdrive and his voice is calming you down. You sigh, “Simon. You promised at the start of this shitshow.” You softly say. He shakes his head, he knows what you are getting at. You promised when this all started that if one of you is going to turn the other would kill the one who’s compromised before fully turning.

“Not yet, please lovie. I can’t.” He clutches onto you. You look at him sadly. It isn’t easy for both of you. “I don’t want to become one of them. Please, Simon, do it for me.” He looks at you, tears soaking his balaclava. The rest of the group surrounds you both. They all look at you sadly. They're used to seeing people bit and turn, but it never was one of their own. You give them a small smile, “make it back for me, okay boys.” You look at Simon, “leave a light on for me? I’ll visit you. I promise.” He lets out a watery chuckle and frowns, “I’ll leave a light on for you.” He confirms. He pulls off his balaclava, showing his face to you. You smile, “there’s the handsome face I know and love.” You caress his jaw. He smiles sadly at you. He leans down to your face. Soon his lips meet yours as you share your last intimate moment. He pulls away and looks at the bite mark on your leg. Which is already swelling, black veins starting to spread, and your skin turning a purplish color. You smile at him, ready to go. “It’s time, love.” He shakes his head once more. You frown, not wanting to see him like this. You hear the barricade failing on the door, they’ll burst through any minute. The others noticed as well. “Simon we have to go…” Johnny voices out, handing his pistol to him. Knowing he doesn’t have his on him. Simon takes it shakily and looks at you, “I can’t leave you here.” You squeeze his hand, “it’s alright. They won’t hurt me anymore.” He lets out a shaky sigh but nods. He points the pistol to your forehead. A quick death, he’ll be damned if he lets you suffer. You nod at him, “I love you, Simon.” He smiles at you, tears falling. You close your eyes, “I love you too, lovie. Always.” The shot rings out as your body slumps forward.

He catches your limp body, ignoring the blood soaking his vest, and rests you in a corner so that you won’t be disturbed. He takes your dog tags off of you and puts it around his neck. He takes your pistol as well. It’s empty, but at least he’ll have something of yours that he can kill those bastards with, in your stead. He looks at you one last time before the door gets pushed down. “We have to leave!” John notifies the others. Simon follows as they make their way down the fire escape. Once they’re safely on the ground, they catch their bearings and march their way to the base.

Hours later, the dark blanket of the night conceals them. They’re met at the gate by soldiers who look at them surprised. Showing them that Shepherd has sealed their deaths. Anger courses through Simon’s veins. Once they’re checked and let through, Simon wastes no time to storm over to Shepherd’s office. He bursts through the door and glares at the man. Shepherd is surprised to see him, alive and well. “You!” Simon seethes. Shepherd looks at him, unbothered. “You made it out after all.” Simon raises an eyebrow, “you left us to die! You told me you were going to attempt! That’s why we waited, you bastard!” He roars in anger. This time Shepherd raises an eyebrow, “you all made it out no?” He can feel his eye twitch at his question. “She is dead because you couldn’t make a rescue effort in the first place.” He seethes in a low voice. He continues, “we could’ve all made it out if you could’ve just said you weren’t going to make an effort on day 1. You lost one of your best soldiers and you are solely to blame.” He says coldly. Shepherd nods, “if you’re done blaming me you can leave, Simon.” His eyes have a fire in them, “you can not call me that!! It is and always will be Ghost to you!” He yells. He has so many more insults to say to his face, but he does not feel like getting executed now. He has a promise to fulfill for you. He storms out of the office and walks to his room. He slams the door shut, throws his pack across the room, and sits on the floor. Not bothering to sit on the bed or by his desk.

Eventually, he gets up to grab a candle. He puts it by the window as he sits at his desk. He grabs his lighter from his pocket and sets the candle alight. “Hope you can see this from wherever you are, lovie.” He says to no one. Wishing you could hear him. He grabs his journal and sets it on his desk. He stares at it for a moment. He slams his palm on the desk, rattling the whole thing and everything resting on it. The loss of you dawned on him. He rests his head in his hands as tears start falling again. He cries it out, the flame illuminating his face, giving his tears a golden glow. Once he gathers himself he opens the journal and flips to a new page.

Day 114

I hope you are happier wherever you are than you were here. I’ll come see you in a few years. Until then, I’ll leave a light on for you at night. So you can always find your way back here. Rest well, my love. I love you, always.

- Simon

He draws his usual skull face next to his name, knowing you’ve always loved it. He flips a page back. Remembering you were writing something last time. What he sees makes new tears fall. He sees your little hawk next to his skull face and a message for him.

‘No matter what. If you leave a light on I will always come back to you, in this lifetime and the next. Even in the afterlife. I will come find you Simon Riley.’

Tears fall on his journal, staining the paper. But fortunately, none lands on your writing. He feels a cold air enveloping him. As if it’s hugging him. He thinks nothing of it. All he wants is you, in his arms. As he sobs he swears he hears your voice.

“I found you, love. I’m here now.”

[ohbo-ohno]

With the shock collar, how would it play put if somehow, either a) she didn't know it shocks her and she leans her head over the fence to look at some flowers and it goes off or b) it suddenly malfunctions and shocks her out of nowhere? How would ghoap react? X

2 for 1 again :)

also shock collar asks here and here and here so i dont lose track lol

you'd be sooooo fucking nervous all the time. learning the collar around your neck could shock you at any time??? suddenly makes sense why they're so militant about taking it off before showers/baths lmfao

johnny or simon would open a window in the house and you're not even leaning out it. johnny tries to call you over to look down at a bunny beneath the window and you're like. absolutely not. johnny gets a little pouty and simon just rolls his eyes, forces you over to bend out the window so you stop being so nervous to get anywhere near the perimeter of the house.

you'd be soo clingy during outside time (still not over that term lol) for a while. but they'd finally get you to start stepping away from them after a week or two of daily time outside - a massive relief, there was a little bit of time where they were both a little worried they might've pushed a little far.

so maybe this time you've wandered a little far, but johnny is like a step behind you??? and simon reassures you over and over and over again that they've disabled the shock when he opens the gate, johnny just really wants to show you some patch of flowers or smth. takes a ton of coaxing to get you out, but you finally listen, head out in front of johnny and behind simon

except you take a step out, toward simon's outstretched hand, and hit the ground again. come to a second later with a ringing in your ears, black spots in your vision.

you don't understand. simon promised. did he lie?

he and johnny are so fucking freaked. johnny is so so so angry at simon, and all simon can do is try and get you to say something so they know you're ok. feels so bad for lying, even unintentionally, his hands shake a little above your face

and for johnny like... he doesn't control the shock collar, that's all simon. and he helped reassure you that simon had made sure it was turned off, had called you silly for doubting. and now??? they had both lied???? he'd be so fucking angry at simon

i think a punishment for simon in this situation would be like... smth like having johnny guide him on how to worship you. no getting off himself, obviously, and giving you pleasure for hours in all the ways johnny details. he loses complete control (to his puppy, no less) and isn't allowed any relief. just has to make it up to you :(

takes a lot of apologizing and softer sex for johnny to get over it

takes even longer for you to believe them when they try to get you outside again. takes you to square one and back a few more steps :(

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

[ceilidho]

sneak peek at the possessive best friend Soap fic:

Where to even begin with all of this?

Your friends can’t even begin to parse out your friendship with Johnny. Half the time, they’re convinced that the two of you are secretly dating. The other half, they’re asking you for his number (“it’s not a big deal, right? If he’s single”), which you hand out with some degree of reluctance or make excuses about, telling them not to put you in the middle, that they’re grown women and can ask a man out on their own.

So what’s it mean that you hope they won’t?

You’re well into the second decade of your friendship with Johnny. These days, you think you know everything there is to know about the man. You know the way he likes his eggs, at what point the pinched expression on his face goes from mildly pissed to possibly violent when he’s arguing with another guy, his preference for coffee over tea, the particular way he sighs when he’s tired to the bone, the distinct feel of his fingertips, the texture of his hair, the way he’ll clear his throat after a drink of water—

The point being, you know this man. 

You’re not sure when the line gets crossed. It feels abrupt and somehow, entirely natural. Like you should’ve seen it coming, should’ve heard it on the telly or sirens blaring through town, but instead you sat inside with your ears plugged up. 

It comes out when the two of you drink a bit too much on a night out, huddled at a table at the back of the bar with Johnny’s arm stretched behind you like usual. You blurt it out in between two other thoughts, when your eyes are drawn to another couple sitting towards the back of the bar, pressed so closely together that their noses almost touch.

“God, I need that,” you sigh, the words coming out unbidden. 

The noise in the bar is just loud enough that he asks you to repeat yourself and you do, a decibel louder, nose wrinkling when you do. Just tipsy enough to lose most of your shame. He arches a brow, taking another sip of his beer. 

“Need what?” Johnny asks, leaning in closer to you, probably to make sure that he can hear you this time.

“To get laid.” It falls out of you like an aside, but that’s because you hardly hear yourself saying it. Your eyes are still locked on the couple across the room, envy making your stomach clench. Feeling it in your guts. 

You only frown when you realize you haven’t heard Johnny say anything in a while. When you turn back, you find him staring down at you with a peculiar intensity. Eyes bluer than you’ve ever seen before, more alert. 

“Why?” His tone is hard, insistent. “You looking around or something?” 

It catches you off-guard, the sudden interrogation. The tension rolling off him. 

“No—I—” Your mouth opens and closes, words only holding their form for a handful of seconds. His stare makes you reconsider them. “I, just…”

He must finally notice where your eyes keep being drawn to because he looks over. His shoulders relax when he spots the couple, the two seated at the back of the bar still tangled up in each other. He hums like he gets it. 

You can feel the heat burning under your cheeks. “Just forget I said anything. It’s really—this is so weird, I’m sorry.” You shut yourself up by taking a drink, looking anywhere but at your best friend’s no doubt taunting face. 

When you happen to glance up though, you find Johnny’s pupils dilated. “Y’know, I could help you with that.”

The offer makes you pause, the rim of your glass pressed to your lip where you were just about to sip. 

“Help me with what?”

“You feeling hot and bothered? I’d be happy to lend my services, kitty cat.”

You frown. “Oh my god. Please don’t say it like that.”

“Y’can call it whatever you want, bonnie. Just know I wouldn’y pass up the chance to get you naked. Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

The hand holding your glass shakes a bit so you put it down. “You have?” 

You wouldn’t normally keep the conversation going, but you’ve had one too many gin and tonics. There’s just enough liquid courage in you to delicately lay the question there like a snare looking for a compliment. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than that. Johnny’s your oldest friend, sure, but he’s also a red-blooded man with corded muscle, strong shoulders, and a jawline that could cut glass. Your blood practically sings when his eyes travel over you like he can see underneath your clothes.

“Yeah, kitty,” he breathes, scooching a bit closer to you. “Think about it all the fucking time actually. Can’t remember the last time it wasn’y top of mind.”

It’s incredible that the world still seems right-side up. Everything might as well be upside down for you. “That’s—are you serious, Johnny?”

“Deadly. You need proof?” The proof feels self-evident. It’s his tight, bunched up muscles and the eager look in his eyes, the hint of teeth when he speaks. You do not, under any circumstances, look down at his lap.

“No, I don’t need proof, oh my god.” You glance around in case anyone nearby overheard, but no one pays a lick of attention to the two of you. From an outsider’s perspective, you probably look just like the other couple, Johnny’s fingers twirling around the ends of your hair, his head angled towards you intimately. 

A smile breaks across his face and it’s like suddenly looking up into the sun. Blinding. “We don’t have to do anything about it yet, kitty. Just think on it, okay?” With his free hand, he nudges your glass closer to you, and you notice now the cuts and scrapes on his hands. How rough they look next to yours, more conspicuous when his knuckles brush up against your hand gripped tight around the glass. “Drink up. I’ll take you home after this one.”

[mylarena]

EVERYBODY shut the fuck up. coffee shop barista au. soap is a barista and this one guy comes in at the same time on the dot every day and orders the same thing every time. (its straight black coffee with so much added caffeine that soap thinks it could kill a horse.) the man is like, 6′4″ and built like a brick house. soap is a pretty big guy himself, but god does he makes him look tiny.

his hair is blond, light enough that in some lighting it looks nearly silver. it seems to be a mess constantly- wavy locks that curl around the tips of his ears, fringe just long enough to partially cover one of his eyes. just long enough that someone could reach up and tuck it behind his ear. and soap wants to, if not just to get to feel his hair- it looks so fucking soft and smooth and soap wonders what his hair care routine is. (because surely you cant get hair that good without putting work into it, right?)

his upper face is littered with scars; over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, under his eye. theres probably more, but anytime he shows up he has a face mask on, one with some dumb skeleton design on it that would probably look stupid on anyone else, but somehow he makes it work.

and his eyes- god, his eyes. his left eye is a brilliant shade of blue with a shock of green at the bottom, something soap has never seen before. the two colors seem to clash and meld together all at once, an enchanting phenomenon that soap wants to study. his right eye is a deep, gorgeous chocolate brown, swirled with a lighter caramel tone that brightens his eye but makes his gaze no less intense. anytime he locks eyes with soap, he loses his breath- hes never seen someone so fucking beautiful in his entire life.

his voice is low and gravelly, a deep, accented rumble that soap swears to god he can feel in his bones. the man doesnt mince his words, but every time he does speak soap can feel himself shiver. he hopes it isnt visible.

the only name he gives for his order is ghost. that isnt enough for soap. he wants his first name- his real name, a name he can place to the beautiful face that lurks in his mind. (and in his sketchbooks.)

so he tries to pry it out of the man. he offers his own name first, john mactavish, but ghost doesnt give him his own name, instead opting nod and hum. he takes to calling soap ‘johnny’, something that soap has notably refused to let anyone call him, no matter how close they are. he allows ghost to call him it, finding the heat it spreads through his body pleasant and welcoming it. gaz, his fellow barista, is disgruntled when he finds out that soap is letting someone call him johnny when he was firmly denied the permission to do so himself.

every day soap asks for a name for the coffee, hoping that one day he’ll slip and tell him, but he never does. its always ghost, you know this, johnny. he keeps trying despite the ineffectiveness.

sometimes he throws out guesses. over time they get increasingly ridiculous, trying to get a huff or a snort out of the man when he looks at his cup. whatever name he chooses is accompanied by some shitty dad joke- one time ghost had told one that was god awful, but soap could see the glee in his eyes when he groaned and complained. he sees ghost look at the writing everytime he hands over the drink, and he adores the amusement he sees dancing in his gaze at the jokes, so he keeps it up.

their banter shifts from friendly teasing to flirting constantly- oftentimes mid-conversation. sometimes its soap who does it, (”the maaask... take it off?” “show my face?” “yes.” “no.” “are you ugly?” “quite the opposite.” “i doubt that.”) and other times its ghost. (”you like tequila?” “could use one right about now.” “id murder for a whiskey.” “you mean scotch?” “i drink bourbon.” “like a good ol’ boy...” “...  i love kentucky.” “yer out o’ yer mind, ghost.” “thats for sure.”)

(gaz is this fucking close to complaining to price about the sexual tension around them. if he has to deal with soap making eyes at this customer for one more fucking minute he thinks hes going to snap.)