#apparently i only do fluff for johnny

[starrynctzen]

[9:28 pm]

johnny has no idea what the future holds for the both of you

but right now

in this moment

with you in his arms

placing kisses on your forehead

he doesn't care what the future holds

good or bad

he doesn't care what happens

as long as he's with you

[moondirti]

featuring: ghoap x nanny! f!reader. parenthood. adoption processes. fluff. slice of life. reader is given an age range

hear me out: simon and johnny transferring to reserve duty – i.e., serving the military on a part-time basis rather than being on active call – once they make the decision to become dads. it comes after a long period of deliberation (and healing on simon's part), but after they're absolutely sure that they want to start this next phase of life together, they call price to get it sorted.

who is thrilled for them, naturally, but warns that they still have a specialised commitment to the task force. if he needs them, then they best make sure they're there. the world isn't a better place yet, and no one can do what the pair does.

fine by them.

so it begins. instead of the complex and ethical choices that come with surrogacy, they opt for adoption and work with an attorney to facilitate the logistics. months of searching come up with a young mother, whose unwanted pregnancy has interfered with her life thus far, and is unwilling to make the further sacrifice that comes with keeping the baby. they must be more understanding, or otherwise less overbearing, than the other candidates – because two months later, they're in a hospital waiting room, anxiously lingering to meet the new addition to their family.

isla riley-mactavish. named after the river where johnny realised he'd be much happier with his lieutenant by his side.

the first few months are bliss. exhausting bliss, but a type of contentment that neither man has known since they first confessed to one another. isla's fussy through nights but they take turns settling her down, and if they have military duties to attend to then it's usually never at the same time. she's spoiled rotten – not just by them, but by the captain and gaz as well, who visit more often than not with bags full of toys they have nowhere to put. a little princess in the eyes of everyone who knows her.

by month five, she's teething and can hold her head up unsupported. simon reads somewhere that it's one of the most pivotal points in her development.

of course the call has to come then.

in the middle of the night, no less, and loud enough to wake her up from her crib. johnny scrambles to calm the bairn down as simon answers, price's grave voice crackling in from the other end. expected to be a long haul. a month at least. state security's at serious risk here, simon. i wouldn't ask you to come out otherwise.

and they made a promise. no matter how much it aches them to leave their darling girl behind.

rdv on base in a week.

he knows that one week is a matter of grace. he can feel the captain itching to hatch the operation as soon as possible, but has staved off to give the boys time to order their affairs. that doesn't mean simon's happy with the timeline, though. seven days is not nearly enough to find a sitter they can trust, especially given their own hindrances.

regardless, they send a job posting for a live-in, 24/7 nanny to close friends – no way in hell are they advertising it to the open internet – and hours later, johnny's sister lets them know of a girl who substitutes at the same primary school she works at. a real darling, apparently. honest 'n' stowed oot of energy, th' weans love her, and she haes experience with bairns too!

promising, but word of mouth isn't enough. they get a name and ask laswell to run a thorough background check. to their relief, it comes out squeaky clean. no arrests, no dui's, no shady travel history. modest socials with only a handful of followers. it's in line with what they know so far, solid enough to encourage them to reach out. so they do: just a brief email, asking what time and place would be best for a face-to-face interview.

they bring isla with them to the agreed meeting spot. a cozy cafe nestled in one of the safest parts of town. it's an early saturday morning and they're scheduled to leave in three days. so far, they've put all their eggs in this basket. johnny has to hold onto simon's hand when he notices the nerves dancing behind his partners usually void eyes. but if he were being honest with himself, he's just as scared.

they notice you as soon as they walk in.

sitting at a table for four, mug of coffee steaming as you bend over a well-loved book. despite your preoccupation, you're observant – they inch in your periphery and your head snaps up, a brilliant smile parting your lips as you spring up onto your feet. simon tallies a point on the ledger in his head. good. alert is good.

as is true for them, it's abundantly clear that you're who they're supposed to meet. johnny can't imagine anyone but a children's educator dressing like that: a gingham babydoll dress over a pair of blue tights, which carries over to the bow in your hair and is juxtaposed by the white oxford lace-ups on your feet. he startles when you extend your hand to shake his and he finds a painted fruit on each of your short nails. positively adorable. and so unlike anything they know.

simon shuffles next to him. isla reaches out from her bugaboo stroller, the colours having caught her eye.

"well hello there! aren't you just the cutest angel i've ever seen? do you like my dress?"

that's another point for immediately engaging with the object of your soon-to-be care. simon watches as you pull out a rattle from your purse, handing it over to the cooing baby. warmth blossoms in his chest, and his apprehension fizzles out in the heat. they hadn't told you they'd be bringing isla – opting to catch you off guard and seeing how you'd deal – so he assumes you carry the toy around for emergency purposes, like anyone else of their ilk would carry a gun.

something about that quirk just screams safe.

"it is a nice dress." johnny pursues, voice smooth in that way it gets when he's flirting but doesn't want it made clear. it took weeks for ghost to attune himself to it – he always just thought the scot spoke like that – but now that he's able to hear it for what it is, he shoots him a cautionary look. not so much mad as he is cautious. wouldn't want to scare her off.

"oh! thank you very much. it's my grandmother's design." you straighten up once isla gains a proper grip on the rattle, patting the skirt like you're basking in the praise. "shall we sit? i assume you have a lot to discuss, and i promise you'll want to try the maple scones they make here."

"please. after you." simon nods.

an hour later, you're giggling into your palm as johnny deviates into a story of the time they took isla to the hospital because they didn't know the soft spot on her head could pulse. simon is quiet in contrast, though not displeased. rather, he's focused on keeping the tally of all the green flags you've exhibited thus far. he doesn't mind that the conversation hasn't followed a typical interview format. in fact, people are more likely to show their true nature when in relaxed settings such as this, which is perhaps why johnny hasn't stuck to the script of questions they'd prepared beforehand. the man is better at social manoeuvring than simon is, anyway. he trusts him to direct this where it needs to go.

"it can be freaky! especially if you've never been around a child that young. i had a similar reaction the first time i babysat my neighbour's infant at sixteen. did you know that they can break out like teenagers? i noticed the poor thing's skin erupt in acne at just a month old and called his parent's crying." you wheeze, wiping the tears along your lashline.

"have ye worked wi' many bairns?"

"oh, yeah. it's been my primary source of income since secondary, all the way through uni. i just finished a master's degree in early childhood education, actually! and i wrote a list of referrals you can call if you need to double check on any of that." you rummage through your purse and pull out an apple-shaped sticky note. "do you mind if i ask what you do? people don't usually look for a full-time nanny unless they're really busy. not that i'm judging! i would ne–"

"military." simon interrupts, ensuring his tone is gentle enough to reassure.

"that makes sense! i mean, for an indefinite amount of time, the pay you're offering is more than perfect. above industry standard, really." you pause, brows furrowing like you're doubting whether you should have said that. "ah– whatever. anyway. isla is wonderful, just the sweetest. and the provided accommodation is an added plus. if you guys have no other qualms, then i'd love to accept the position."

"does i' bother you that there are cameras on the property? porch, kitchen, and living room. jus' for security's sake." simon tests, though he knows he doesn't need to, for extra measure. to someone with bad intentions, CCTV is a massive dealbreaker.

you don't hesitate before answering. "makes total sense! you guys are well within your right to check in at any time."

and they don't have to consult each other to know. johnny is practically buzzing in his seat, muscles flexed with enthusiasm as his gaze flits all over you. lingering on your chest in particular, before he looks over to simon and smiles in an offensively handsome way. simon can't help but smile back, crinkling his eyes more than necessary so the both of you can tell what's going on behind his mask.

it feels a little too good to be true, hopeful in a way that sets off the alarm bells in his head. he's stable enough to recognise that it isn't your fault, though. stable enough not to pin his distrust on you. this is likely the best shot they've got at ensuring their daughter's safety while they're away, and it's come in the form of a vivid, bright little blessing.

(with great tits.)

he'd be a fool to sabotage it.

johnny beats him to the cause. "ye'r hired."

[ next ]

[b1rds3ye]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI,  awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Doctor!Reader

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Just a little idea I had after seeing all the TikToks and now I am yanked onto the Ghost train. I used to watch my brother play the game but that was a while ago so bear with me here. (advice or little pointers are much appreciated). I also might make this into a short story or add another part to it, let me know y’all. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst

You were assigned to the team as their personal physician, as requested by the higher ups in order to make sure the soldiers stayed in best health, both physically and mentally. You used to work at your local hospital before you were offered the position.

You knew the dangers and the risks involved, but you were in debt and had student loans that needed to paid. So after much hesitation, you accepted the offer, eventually being convinced by the fat paycheck.

You remembered the day you were first introduced to the team, the way everyone's eyes glued to you like a hawk, their large forms towering over your small frame in the room while you picked at the skin around your nails in nervous habit.

They were curious to say the least, wondering what the hell someone like you was doing in a place like this. And since when did they get the chance to have a full on doctor to treat them, usually they were offered combat medics. You had guts, that's for sure.

You on the other hand were nervous, frightened even, with the thought of living in the same quarters of men wrapped up within the tumults and afflictions of war without a single clue as to their current psychological state. You had seen the worst of men and humanity growing up and you no idea who these soldiers were, what they were capable of, or what their intentions might be. Maybe you should have requested that briefing before you hopped on that plane.

Amongst all of their gazes, you had failed to notice a certain masked individual in the far back of the room, his form shrouded amongst the others as he studied you. His eyes, hidden underneath the grooves of his mask that only seemed to be darkened by where he stood blocked by the only source of light, watched your every movement, from every gesture of your perfectly manicured fingers to every smoothing of the lint-free fabric of your sweater to the way you kept shifting your weight from one foot to another.

One thing was apparent; during the entire length the high ranking officer next to you introduced you and debriefed the men on what was expected and such, you had not uttered a single word, minus the small polite and somewhat strained smile on your face while your eyes told another story. Why the military truly hired you, he may never know.

After being shown your little office and workspace including your room, you were quick to settle in, decorating the area to the best of your abilities with what you had taken with you from back home in order to bring some life into the dull and two-dimensional area. If anyone questioned you on it you would just say that your own sanity is extremely vital in order to ensure quality treatment for your patients.

Once everything in your office was set up, you threw on your white coat and retreated yourself to your office space, sitting at your desk and hastily going over the files that you had completely forgotten about that were given to you regarding the soldiers' previous health before they come pouring in reporting symptoms of god knows what. Best be prepared. Jesus how many bullet wounds can a single individual have.

The soldiers were advised to do their routine physical examinations with you so the first one to come waltzing in through your office door was none other than Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a cheeky grin plastered on his face and much too excited for his own good. That boy's got a crush on you I swear. To be honest I'd be lying if I said the whole team didn't have a schoolboy crush on you.

The men were quick to warm up to you, relieved to have a gentle soul in their midst after all the shit that goes down outside, you were like breath of fresh air. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to bring a doctor on board, as quiet and reserved as you were. They speculated you were just shy, the reason why you never spoke much, not knowing that you just couldn't hold a conversation if your life depended on it, especially around those you weren't close with. At first they couldn't tell because of your major rbf.

During their routine check-ups or whatever issue they had going on, they would do most of the talking, which was a good thing on your end because it helped you to piece together their temperaments. Thank the lord no one is a psycho murderer. Oh wait.

Soap is the most chattiest of them all. Boy wouldn't shut his mouth when he sat in your office. He's super flirty. But not as flirty as Alejandro.

Ghost on the other hand was reluctant to step into your office for his check-ups. After all he was usually the one to tend to his own wounds or just push through whatever it is that is going on, so he did not know what all the fuss was about in having to get his health checked. So when you call out his last name more than once might I add, clipboard in hand and scanning the area for whoever looks to be headed in your direction, he can't help but heave out a sigh, trudging over to where you stood, your clean white coat a stark contrast to the rest of the environment as you leaned against your door to hold it open.

You muttered out a small hello to which he let out a small huff as you moved aside to let the man enter, watching him walk into your office and seat himself down. That man intimidated you a bit not gonna lie. Not only could you not see his face but he had also not said a single word to you. And not to mention he was absolutely huge as compared to you, even more so in person. You also had heard a lot of stories from the other guys.

"How is your day?" You ask, shutting the door behind you as you briefly read over his previous but extremely short records on your clipboard. There's barely anything on this man. Does he not get ill?

Ghost is quiet at first, watching your eyes scan over the clipboard and curious to know just what is on those papers before your eyes flit up to meet his and catch him off guard, which causes him to answer abruptly. "Fine."

"Okey dokes." You give a quick smile.

Did you just say okey dokes.

Clearing your throat, you go over to where he sat and set the clipboard down on the table next to you beside your laptop. You didn’t have to read his body language to know he did not want to be here at all. So you were going to do him a favor and make the appointment as quick as possible.

"So do you have any allergies to any medications, any allergies I need to know of?" Your fingers hover over the keyboard of your laptop as you turn to face him, only to be met with an expressionless skull of a mask and the expressionless eyes beneath. Oh boy this session was going to be something. You had heard of how he had never shown his face, so you made sure not to question on it.

"No ma'am."

"Are you currently taking any medication?" You ask the same standard set of questions you have asked every single patient of yours, typing as you go.

"No ma'am."

Any previous illness? Disease?"

"No."

The more you ask him questions, the more he strangely finds it easier to answer. Your voice is surprisingly soft, warm even, like the start of autumn, and he finds it comforting to listen to. Or maybe it's just some technique doctors learn during training in order to relax their patients.

"Do you have any history of smoking, alcohol, or illicit drug use?"

".......sometimes I'll have a smoke, and a glass of bourbon." He's almost waiting for you to hand him a pamphlet about the dangers of smoking.

"How many times would you say?" You ask for details, your eyes still glued to the screen of your laptop as you await his answer.

Ghost is a bit confused by the amount of questions you ask, but he also has not been to the doctor's so how would he know. "Um I don't know."

"A rough estimate is fine."

"Not much, maybe 2-3 times a week or so when I'm not on duty."

"How many times a week do you exercise?" You feel silly for asking this question to a man like him but it's all part of the procedure and you almost pray he doesn't hate you for it.

"Every day." So no pamphlet?

Jesus this man has more discipline than you. You can barely get up in the morning.

"Okayyy." You mutter out, more to yourself as you enter in his responses.

Ghost finds himself watching you from his seat on the chair, his eyes tracing over and studying your features as you type away on your laptop. He thinks you're really pretty but either doesn't want to admit it or just flat out does not know that he finds you attractive.

There are certain details about you that he can't help but find himself intrigued by, like the small black outline flower tattoo on your hand that was located near the area of your thumb, running along the curve to meet the knuckle of your forefinger. He's curious as to the meaning behind it, if there was one. He wanted to ask what type of flower it was, perhaps it was your favorite? It would give him an idea as to what flowers to get you.

"Have you ever been hospitalized, had any surgical procedures done or been treated for any chronic conditions?"

"No." Ghost shakes his head before remembering his wounds from combat, wondering if that is something you should know. "Just the bullet and knife wounds from combat. Nothing too serious."

Jesus fucking christ. You were willing to bet he treated those wounds himself.

Ghost is not a fan of hospitals. Pretty sure this dude just looks up YouTube tutorials on how to fix himself instead of just going to the doctor like a normal human being.

"When was the last time you visited your general practitioner.......or just any doctor in general?" You ask the last question, willing to bet it never.

There was silence on his end as you looked towards him waiting for an answer, the clicking of your keyboard coming to a stop and only loudening the silence. Ghost could not remember the last time he had been to a hospital or even scheduled a visit. And as you looked at him, your eyes almost staring into his soul, still waiting for a response, he could not help but feel a tad bit embarrassed, as if you were judging him for not being a responsible adult. Also it didn't help that you were goddamn pretty.

"I'm gonna take that as a very long time, the last time being the prehistoric ages, correct?" There's the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

"Uh.......yes ma'am." Ghost squints his eyes at you as you go back to typing on your keyboard. Did you just.............did you just call him…..He does not know how to feel about that. Did you just try to crack a joke? He always thought doctors were the serious type.

"Okay then." You straighten up, grabbing your sphygmomanometer off the table and turning yourself to face him. "Is it okay if I check your blood pressure?"

The man is stunned. No one has ever asked his permission for anything before. He's so used to either taking orders or giving orders that he doesn't know how to respond and stares at you for a moment, forcing his brain to process what to do next before eventually giving a nod.

"Is it okay if you take your jacket off so I can get a clearer reading?"

He nods again, still in shock as he takes off his jacket, leaving him in his black long sleeve thermal. He's almost thankful he wasn't in his full tactical gear, having to imagine you standing there waiting for him as he removes every single piece of equipment off his torso.

"Thank you." You give him a short smile, placing your hand under his tricep and gently lifting his arm in order to wrap the inflatable cuff around his bicep. You almost blush at the mere size of this man's arms. "Now you're just going to feel a slight pressure okay."

Ghost can't help but feel a slight warmth spread to his cheeks at the way you handle him with such care, as if he were the small delicate thing and not you. Now he knows why the others were so giddy after leaving your office.

As you place your stethoscope on his forearm near his elbow to listen to his blood pumping through the artery, your other hand pumping air into the cuff using the inflation bulb with your eyes glued to the numbers on the gauge, he can't help but to notice the old Donald Duck watch that sat at your wrist, the ones with the moving arms and the vintage style black leather straps.

And as he further investigated your attire, he noticed a few other details, like the colorful glittery badge reel in the shape of a pill container with the words "licensed drug dealer" printed on it that was attached to your scrub top, the glitter sticker with the words "I'm nicer than my face looks" as well a few Disney character stickers and the little frog looking keychain that hung off of your badge. He was wondering what the hell that thing was. Your accessories were awfully colorful for a general doctor. Something was telling him you either used to work with families or children. Whatever the hell managed to bring you to such a drastic change.

You brought him out of his thoughts as you shifted from your position, unwrapping the inflatable cuff from around his bicep and placing it back on the table before typing the results into your laptop. "Okay," You adjust the ear pieces of your stethoscope back into your ears as you turn back to him, "I'm going to perform some auscultations, which is just listening to the sounds of your heart and your lungs so if you could just sit up straight and relax that would be wonderful."

Simon straightens up his posture as you place your free hand on his shoulder, at this point you're not sure if you're steadying him or yourself, your fingertips just barely grazing across the bottom of his neck. He doesn't know why but, it's as if your fingers are directly touching the skin underneath, despite the fabric of his mask that separated your fingers from his skin. Your hands feels hot, like really hot and he has no clue why.

The soldier only feels his cheeks warm up even more so now as you inch closer to carefully place the diaphragm of your stethoscope on his chest, your head tilted and your eyes lowered to the floor as you listen for his heart beat. He gets a whiff of your perfume and he finds himself drawn to it. You smell like something along the lines of jasmine petals, geranium, myrrh, frankincense, and a hint of sandalwood. Now he definitely knows why the others are fawning over you. Poor Simon is praying you don't hear how his heart is nearly racing. He does not know why he is feeling this way and it slightly bothers him in the way that he has no clue what it is he is feeling.

He catches how your brows slightly furrow at the center and his heart skips a beat. Now he's fucking embarrassed and this man rarely ever is embarrassed. Maybe he's even starting to panic. Can you tell? Do you know? You open your mouth to say something but he quickly interrupts he just got back from a run so you dismiss it with a shrug, placing the diaphragm on his back now and asking him to give you a couple of deep breaths.

"Okay. Take a deep breathe in, breathe it out. Breathe in, and out."

He complies with your instructions, breathing in slow and deep breaths as you go from one side of his back to another.

"Good job." You remove the earpieces and let your stethoscope hang around your neck as you go back to your table, recording in more info. Hang on did you just, did you just tell a grown 6'4" man good job.

Even Simon is confused. Like bitch.

"Okay, so we're all done with that." You inform him, before going over to one of the drawers and sliding it open. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to have some blood work done on you, just to make sure there are no underlying issues that need to be taken care of."

Simon is silent so you turn to him. "Is that okay, Ghost, is that what the others call you? Would you like me to call you Ghost?"

Goddamn you're too polite. "That's fine by me ma'am."

"Perfect. Now is it okay if I take your blood sample?"

Ghost nods, so you grab the tools necessary and place them on the table next to you.

"Could you please roll your sleeve up and make a fist for me? Thank you." You ask him once you sanitize your hands and throw on a pair of fresh gloves. You grab the tourniquet and catch sight of the tattoos that cover his forearm as you tie the tourniquet around his arm above the elbow. You're curious to know the story behind them but you have a feeling he's not one for storytelling or just talking in general so you remain silent. You tear open the small packet of the alcohol wipe and apply it to the area. The chemical is cool against his skin as you sanitize the area before letting it air dry. Simon can't help but notice how small your hands are.

Simon watches you intently as you work, the way you are so focused and so precise with each step, and yet so gentle. It's almost cute.

"You're just going to feel a little pinch." You tell him in a soft tone, a tone you were used to using on all your little patients before inserting the needle into his vein. As if the man hasn't been shot or stabbed and god knows what multiple times before.

At this point Simon doesn't even notice the needle in his arm, he's too focused on the details of your face. He can sense that you're nervous around him and he feels bad. Even though he's just met you, the last thing he wants is for you to feel scared or unsafe around him. And even though this whole situation is awkward for him since he never was a fan of visiting the hospital, you're their physician, and at the end of the day you're there to patch them up. So he comments on your dark circles, thinking you haven't gotten any rest since you arrived here. "You look tired."

"............that's just my face." You give him that distinct smile, the same smile you have given anyone who ever commented on them as you connect the vacutainers to the needle to draw his blood, your eyes glued to the dark red liquid seeping through the thin clear tube before pouring into the sample tube.

If you thought it was quiet before, well you are most definitely wrong because the silence is absolutely deafening now.

Simon nearly punches himself for his stupidity. Why in the bloody hell did he say that of all things. He wanted to tell you he liked your dark circles but decided to bite his tongue instead. Now he's definitely not going to say another word. Better yet, once he leaves your office, he's not coming back. He's just going to avoid you at all costs in order to save both you and himself the embarrassment. He's willing to bet the others handled this way better than him.

"But I suppose I am a bit jet-lagged though. Haven't really gotten any rest since I got on that plane." You add. "I appreciate your concern."

You most definitely said that to make him feel better about himself, Simon thinks to himself as he stares at the wall and avoids your face. There was no other reason.

Once your done drawing his blood you ask him to hold the piece of cotton pad down onto where the needle was punctured as you open up the drawer where the gauze is located. "Do you have a favorite color?"

Did you just ask him his favorite color? Simon stares at you blankly. Were all doctors this odd?

"I'm guessing you like black?" You pull out the roll of black gauze, displaying it in front of you with the most deadpanned expression possible.

You've got jokes. Simon thinks to himself. If he had looked a little closer he would have noticed the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"You should see the colors the others picked." You tease as you wrap the gauze around his arm at the elbow, making sure it isn't too tight but also not loose enough to the point where the cotton pad underneath slips out.

Simon narrows his eyes at you. Bloody fucking hell. The others picked a color?

You're pretty sure Gaz requested you get an Elmo print one he saw online once somewhere. Soap asked if there a print of the Scotland flag available. The look of hurt on his face when you said there wasn't so you improvised and gave him both the blue and white gauze. You gave him a Dum-Dum lollipop to make him feel better. The others may have also gotten a lollipop as they left your office, especially after seeing the special treatment that Soap received. Were they jealous? Maybe.

Once you tell the man he is all good to go and that you will call him once you're done getting the results from his blood sample, he nearly jumps out of the chair and bolts out of your office. He prays some unknown miracle happens and that his blood sample magically disappears so that he doesn't have to face you, firmly believing he insulted you and that you thought he called you ugly when that is not what he intended. I am telling you this man does not know how to compliment. They should make a guidebook for dummies specialized just for him.

You watch him disappear out your door with a quirked brow. Well that was fucking weird.

When Simon leaves the area he finds Soap lounging about on a chair with a sucker in his mouth.

"The hell is that?" Simon squints at the sergeant.

"Mph mph." Soap's voice comes out muffled.

"What?"

Soap pauses and turns to see Ghost looming over him. "It's a Dum-Dum."

"A fuckin what?"

"Y/n said they're called Dum-Dums." Soap pulls it out of his mouth, twisting the stick of the lollipop around in his fingers as if he were inspecting it. "This one's a cotton candy flavor."

"She gave you a fuckin lollie?"

"It's pure dead brilliant I tell ya. Why, did she not give ya one?"

More silence. Simon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a tad bit butthurt.

"Maybe you scared her." Soap jokes.

Simon lets out a grumbled incoherent huff and walks away.

Soap just shrugs and pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

Simon has a feeling he is going to go to bed thinking about his actions.

Part 2

[lovifie]

Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Smut | 1818 words | Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

not according to plan | hjs (teaser)

summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his.

pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k) notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic fic post date: friday, april 26th (full fic here)

a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).

thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way. tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu

if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask 💕

You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into. 

Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though. 

Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.

It works.

When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks. 

His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you. 

In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated. 

“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you. 

“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.

“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks. 

“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out. 

Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?” 

“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?” 

A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information. 

In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)

Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.

To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting. 

“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.

“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.

let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week 💕 (and what you think so far)

[lundenloves]

Dad!Simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! Overprotective dad!simon having to be scary (ofc not towards his lil family) but in private with Wife!Reader he’s emotional because his little girl is growing up 😭😭 fluff mix with tiny angst

Thx! Love ya Dad Simon series 🖤

dad!simon masterlist | taglist

ANON! This mf would get migraines over the idea of his sweet little baby girl and a boy. I’ve had quite a few asks about this, all along the same lines (crush, boyfriend etc) so just decided to make one of all of them. Unless someone wants something dead specific, shout me!

Everyone grab your binoculars as we observe from a safe distance.

He almost choked on his drink, dropping the glass to the counter with a cringe inducing clink. One that echoed around the now silent kitchen as his eyes caught onto his wife’s. “A what?”

His eldest daughter threw her arms in the air in battle of her mother. “Why would you even say anything to him, oh my god.” She groaned frustratedly, attempting to storm away but cut short when Simon had cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” He leant his palm on the kitchen counter, looking down at the girl who was slowly growing to look like her mother instead of him. “What’s his name?”

“Because you’re like this.” She gestured to him, whining a sigh and turning to her mother. “Tell him, mum. He always gets involved.”

Simon laughed, balling his hand into a fist and habitually hitting down on the counter with his movement. “I’m only asking, love.” His arms then crossed over his chest, feet a length apart from another. “What age is he?”

“See!” She shot a hand toward him, widening her eyes at you. “He can’t help it.”

“Well, I need to know what—“

“Simon.” You held a hand out to silence him, a slight tilt of your head telling him to let go. “Invite him for dinner, darling.” The warmth in your voice made Simon itch from the other side of the counter, a half-hearted glare piercing into you over what you had just asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You knew exactly why.

“Because dad will just fu- interrogate him.” She left the room, walking down the hall as she continued, “Which he doesn’t even get to do. He’s never here anyway!” Her words were spat out and Simon tsked, turning back to you when she had stomped up the stairs.

“He’s her age.” You said quietly.

“You knew?” He whisper-shouted as you took a step toward him.

“Of course I knew.” He humphed when you had wrapped your arms around him, humming into his chest. “That’s what mothers are for.” A long sigh left him at that, pulling back from you and rubbing a hand through his hair and down his face visibly stressed.

“I need a cigarette.”

“It was always going to happen, Simon.” You smiled, following him outside and nudging his shoulder playfully. “Leave her be. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He eyed you through a sideward glance.

“She’s not going to get pregnant.”

“If she’s with a little rat—“

“Stop.”

He lit his cigarette, taking a long inhale before shrugging. “That kid is not stepping one foot into this house.” The smoke escaped his mouth with each word, creating a momentary cloud around him. “Not when i’m here.”

“She’s growing up.”

“Too fast.” Simon shook his head with another long drag, the two of them stood in silence.

Being a father to a teenage girl was a new era of problems. Ones he was yet to even learn about never-mind tackle, and this was apparently one of them. The boyfriend dilemma. He was not immune to the dad feelings, resulting in many a phone call to Johnny who somehow knew everything. The man didn’t even have a family.

“Just invite the kid, see what happens. He’s hardly going to pull out an M9.”

“I’m not having him ‘round.”

“She can go to his then.”

“No she fucking can’t.”

In result, he was invited over. On one condition with his daughter, so was uncle Johnny.

Him and Simon were stood in the kitchen when the scrawny kid walked in. You had convinced your husband that holding his knife wasn’t a great idea, twirling it around his fingers before forcefully sticking it into the chopping board.

“Alright, son.” Johnny slapped a hand onto the kids back, ultimately welcoming him but also shoving him toward Simon.

“Sorry. That’s my uncle.” His daughter would point with her eyes, steering him away from her dad and to the seat furthest away. Many a death-stare had been shot across the table toward her father, all returned of course if it wasn’t for you stomping on Simon’s foot underneath it.

It was a mess, to say the least. Bar Johnny’s flamboyant stories that kept at least a drop of fun.

this was supposed to be a lot shorter but LMAOO you can’t convince me ghost wouldn’t recruit soap in this whole thing. THIS is canon. so many thoughts, such little brain.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog

if you weren’t tagged i couldn’t get your blog!

[islayhawkin]

Night out

john price x autistic!f!reader

summary: john takes you out for a drink with his team

A/N: this shows the parts of autism from my own experience. Doesn't mean everybody has the same experience. Husband John is so cute.

Found out that I'm way better at writing angst than fluff haha oops

Fluff

It was a friday evening when john took you out to meet up with his comrades. You were introduced to them before but you never really spoke to them. Mostly because john took measures to keep his private life -you- separated from his work. But he came home today and was going to meet up with them just as friends outside of work so he asked you to come along since he didn't want to leave you alone immediately after he just returned.

So it happened that you were sat next to your husband in the car while he drove you both to the bar they agreed to. When you watched him drive you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly switched gears and scanned the street through the front as if he was checking a battlefield. He smiled and rested his hand on your thigh once he met your gaze. "You tell me if they make you uncomfortable alright? They can be quite...well you know how soldiers are." he told you in that gruff voice of his, but he somehow made it sound incredibly soft.

"I will. Thanks." You smiled at him and squeezed his hand gratefully.

"Of course."

"There's a toilet, right?" you asked as your mind was already in the bar.

"Yeah 'course. I'll show you." he reassured.

"Okay good."

He glanced at you a few times during the ride. Clearly observing the slight tension in your body and how you tapped your fingers anxiously on your knee, but he didn't comment on it.

After a few minutes of silent driving, he parked the car on the side of a street, shut the motor off and went out to open the door for you before you were able to pull a jacket on. The sound of your shoes could be heard on the gravel in the otherwise quiet street as well as the slam of the door behind you.

John offered his arm and you settled your hand in the crook of his elbow. His form shielded you from the street as he always insisted to walk on the side closest to the ongoing cars. Usually, you would have felt unsettled to walk in such a quiet part of the city in the dark but with john by your side you felt the safest you could ever be.

A torrent of noise engulfed you the moment you stepped foot into the bar. People talking, music playing in the background, glasses clanging. John guided you through the group of people to a table in the back. Loud laughter on the right. A door swinging shut on the left. The arm of a man pushing you slightly into John's side.

He pulled you close to him and cleared the path as well as he could. Apparently, John's friends were already there. He greeted them as the three men stood up and clapped each other on the back rather roughly it seemed to you. You had to do without his arm as support now so you busied yourself with your hands while swaying from one side to the other. Their mouths moved but you weren't able to make out their words through all the noise.

When John stepped back one of them stretched their hand out for you and you took it as your cue to shake his hand and smile at them politely while another man -the other Johnny you recalled- shook your hand. The hand was big but slimmer than John's and slightly sweaty. You wiped your palm against your clothes to rid the feeling, but the urge to wash them lingered.

Kyle and ghost made their way over to the bar to grab you all drinks while you sat down around the table. John arranged the seating so you would only sit next to him and not squeeze in between the men. He leaned his head down and grabbed your hand softly in his.

"You good?" he muttered in your ear. His eyes scanning your face. "It will get quieter soon."

You nodded and grasped his hand back.

One of his fingers pointed in the direction to the left. "There are the toilets"

You followed his eyesight until you spotted a door in the corner. You nodded and moved your thumb up and down over the back of his hand in a soothing manner.

Soap leaned over the table with a smug look on his face. "...never seen the captain like this..." You looked between John and Soap. John was already sighting exasperated next to you.

"What do you mean?"

Soap laughed. He looked carefree as the laugh took over his whole face. You rarely saw such a laugh on John.

"He's all lovey-dovey with ye. We know him to be a lot differently." Soap grinned.

You glance at john next to you, who rubbed his eyebrows, already embarrassed. But there a was a slight pull in his lips that told you he enjoyed people seeing you with him. It made a feeling of warmth spread through your body at his reaction. He looked almost... proud? Maybe you were just interpreting too much into it.

"Wha- how do you mean?" You leaned back over to soap. Careful to put enough distance between you but still being able to hear him.

"Well ya kno', he's a pretty harsh captain. Always scoldin us, shoutin around the field. Doin things that... are verra different from how he treats ya. All soft and gentle."

"Oh. I guess it would be weird if he was that way on the field too. I don't know him any differently..." you shrug.

"Oh lass we're gonna have a lot of fun." he winked. John already feared what he was talking about.

"Alright I think that's enough gossipin about me now."

Soap just laughed but to john's luck gaz and ghost came back with the drinks in hand and sat down next to soap.

The drinks were handed around the table leaving you empty handed. "Cap said you don't want anything, you sure?" Gaz asked as he noticed it.

You nodded with a smile. "Yeah thanks. I drink from john's." You pointed to the drink in front of john.

Gaz gave a nod. "Well let me know if you change your mind ma'am."

You smiled genuinely this time. Being called ma'am wasn't a usual occurance in your life, but every soldier you met did it. It was respectful. You appreciated that. Especially when john had adressed you with it at the beginning of your relationship.

The men started a easy conversation sometimes asking you questions to involve you. It was difficult to hold a conversation when you could only understand half of what they were saying, but over time the bar began to quieten down which made you feel more at ease.

You took john's glass to drink even though you didn't know what it was. Something non-alcoholic since he was driving but still bitter. Just the way john liked it.

John apperantly saw the grimace you made at the taste. "I can get you a other one if you don't like this one, love"

"It's fine."

John scanned your face. He knew you too well and it wasn't the first time you went out together. There were two possible reasons why you didn't want to drink. Either you thought it too expencive or you were too anxious to get anything down.

"I want you to drink something nice. You don't worry about the price alright? You're my mrs. Price I can afford you a drink." He smiled and lowered his head to get to your eye-level. He always did this. You didn't know if he was aware of it. But somehow he was able to make himself look smaller and less intimidating with his body language.

Your eyes shied away to settle on his lips instead. "Okay." You grinned sheepishly. "You know me too well."

Johns face lighted up triumphically. "I'll get it. Be right back." He pecked your temple before walking over to the bar.

The moment he left the table gaz and johnny started talking to you too.

"You know he's thinkin about you all the time when we're out. Always carrin' that picture with him and worryin'."

"-all he does is worry. Can be bloody annoying, no offence." Ghost piped in.

"...also the first few nights" johnny wistled. "He must miss you much-"

"Johnny don't talk like that to the lady."

Soap looked offended. "She knows that for sure! Not something that's unknown to her probably."

You laugh and raise your brows ammused. "I made my assumptions. Even though john rather always seems to complain about you three"

They laugh and slap eachothers arms before engaging in a animated talk about the topic.

The later it get's the more energy was drained. You had an almost blank look on your face and weren't able to make polite smiles anymore neither engaging in the conversation. John noticed of course. He observed the way you became quieter over the evening and seemed to sink into yourself. Even when he saw you this way so many times before it seemed his heart couldn't take you being unhappy in any way. It made him want scoop you up and bring you home. He hated not being able to shield you from everything. Even the others were shooting their captain confused looks.

"You okay?" John muttered, only for your ears to hear.

You nodded. "Can we go home soon?"

"Of course. You tired?" He brushed a calloused thumb over your cheek.

You nodded in response. "If you wanna stay I can wait a bit. I don't want to cut your evening short."

He smiled reassuringly. "I need to get you home."

Relief flooded through you even though you felt guilty for pulling john back again.

"Alright lads. We'll be going. The missus needs to put this old man to bed." He joked.

Even though it was a joke it meant a lot to you. He took the blame for your departure. It made you blink up at him in disbelief.

The men made some comments and complained about you leaving so soon but goodbyes were given and a moment later john led you out of the bar. His hand resting gently against your back.

Your walk to the car was silent but you could feel his glances on you. It wasn't in a uncomfortable way, it made you feel looked out for.

"Why did you do that? Lie about us leaving."

John looked slightly taken aback by the question as if he didn't think about it before.

"Well I assumed it wouldn't feel nice to you for me to announce that you were the reason we were going home. And It's easier for me to take a few hits from the boys than for you. Honestly didn't think much about it."

He opened the door for you before walking around to the other side himself. Your gaze followed him as he shifted in his seat to get comfortable and clip his seatbelt shut. He met your gaze when he looked up.

There was a small smile hidden beneath his beard. "What?" His voices sounded gruff as if he had smoked too much. Maybe he had.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

His expression softened considerably. "Because I'm putting a seatbelt on?" He teased gently.

You gave him a 'seriously?' look. "I'm serious john. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

He lowered his head bashfully. His heart skipping a beat. He'll never get used to being called your husband. "I try my best darling. I'm glad you think so."

You leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. The hairs of his beard tickling you. It was a familiar feeling. There was no smile on your face, there didn't need to be, you didn't have to pretend anything with him.

"Thank you."

John grabbed your hand in his bigger one giving it a squeeze. "For what?"

"Being you." Your eyes met his and you were able to hold eye contact for the moment.

John chuckled. "That's not a-"

"For always looking out for me. For accepting me the way I am and always trying to meet my needs even if you want something else. For never getting angry at me and being SO considerate. Like, like you did back there taking the hit for me without even thinking about it. You do stuff like that all the time."

It sounded so genuine coming from you even though your tone sounded flat. Almost like you were stating facts. "And I feel like I'm holding you back a lot. You need to give up so much for me and I need you for so many things it probably can be annoying for you..."

John's brows furrowed instantly. "Darling...it's not- you're not annoying to me. Never. And I'll gladly give up whatever if it means that I get your love." His voice was so gentle, that his friends would probably fall from their chair. A slight shake in his head to contradict your thoughts. He adjusted his position to cup your cheek in his palm.

His mind was spiraling to express his thoughts and make you aware of your importance to him. Did he ever make you feel like you weren't? Where did you get the idea? Had he acted annoyed when he helped you sometime? Maybe that time were he had gotten home from work...

"I never meant to make you feel this way. You need to put up with all my bullshit too and I'm so grateful for you. I-" his voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat.

You were overwhelmed by how you should react. It wasn't the first time you saw him vulnerable, you were used to his nightmares or worries, but it didn't happen frequently either and there wasn't excactly a handbook for 'what to do when your husband feels-' well you weren't entirely sure what emotion he felt at the moment either.

He took a breath. "You just mean a lot to me, love. I want you to be happy."

"But you need to be happy too." you stated quietly.

He smiled. "I am happy. More than happy with you. You're about the best thing that happened to me." A chuckle escaped his lips. "And honestly I quite like that you're a bit dependend on me. Makes me feel needed."

John pulled his head down to lean his head against yours. "You don't need to say anything. I just don't want you to think that you're a burden to me."

"But it is hard on you sometimes is it not?" you whispered. The blue in his eyes was so close that it blurred.

"Yes it is. But I know it's hard for you too being with me sometimes." He adjusted his eyes downwards.

"Yes. We make it work tough."

"That we do love. We make it work." he whispered before closing the small gap and touching your lips with his.

[n3ptoonz]

Part 2 of MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them, please? 😊

i mean i GUESS i can do that 🤭 since you asked so nicely! part one here

how liu kang, reiko, sub-zero, havik, johnny cage, scorpion, and geras go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

just know it may not show the long pauses i took while writing this but know IT HAPPENED!! THE THINGS I DO FOR YALL🫵🏾don't say i never did none😫

havik's regeneration mentioned. i've also been told havik looks like that on purpose so like, let's act like he can make his face go back to where it was for the sake of shits, giggles, and pandering XD

tags: @luna18night20 @momopad

warnings: suggestive, fluff elements, sphinx tried her best, there will not be a part 3 im sorry y'all 💔 BUT shao and kenshi are here

Liu Kang

Liu Kang was rarely ever rough with you. In fact, the only way he'd do it is if you either verbally say it's fine, or if he knows you're poking the bear just to get a reaction. And when you get a reaction...there's no going back. You've kissed with your back to the wall several times, and every time was gentle and loving and laced with care. However, if you've presented that you were that desperate for him to give you the attention you deserve, he will gladly be a little rougher in pushing you back with his lips on yours. Just be prepared for him to leave some handprints on your waist.

Reiko

Reiko is a warrior. Hardened by battle and discipline, so the way he kisses you usually starts off that way. He can't help it. Not only is it the way he was raised and what he was told a man is "supposed to be", but it also came with how his partners were to be treated. When it came to you his sense of duty and protection spiked every single time. So here you were, well within his unintentional bear hug as your back was against the wall. His kisses always started off like he was going away to war/fight (because he usually was) but he would eventually melt and become smoother because you're by his side.

Sub-Zero

Bi-Han, a truly complex character. I believe that whoever captures his heart will be the main obsession in his life. In this case, it is you. He constantly needs to be on you, around you, see you, hear you, you name it. He can't get enough of your lips and this is especially apparent the way he's almost always pushing you to the wall while kissing you. Can we blame him? He's a tall hunk of touch-starved and the only thing that will satiate that hunger is roughly making out with you every chance he gets all while still knowing how to treat you like a porcelain antique.

Havik

Havik...this guy. Even though I'm pretty sure it's not canon I still feel like he'd regenerate and degenerate for fun and for different purposes/occasions. For the sake of my sanity I can say I found him fine as hell before his face got fucked up, and so did you. But you don't mind him either way because you love his crazy ass. Allow me to set the scene: You say something snappy to get his attention and boom...he regenerates his facial wounds just to back you against the wall and shut you up with pure smugness and arrogance behind his kiss. But, this is what you wanted, nonetheless. And you'd do it again!

Johnny Cage

Who's to say Johnny Cage wouldn't try to get you in one of his films just so he could keep getting takes of him backing you to a wall and kissing you? For Elder God's sakes, he's the one who wrote the script! And of course it's something dramatic like him being a villain that captures the hero and tries to convince them to ditch their position to be with him. Dude would totally think he's Loki (did i say that bc i think it would be hot if Loki did that to me? ..don't worry about it!) He's for sure fucking up his takes on purpose and you know this, but you only pretend to be irritated and maybe even fuck up a few yourself.

Scorpion

Kuai Liang, the romantic this man is. Like Liu Kang, he's never rough with you. Except it would take a little more convincing to let him know it's fine for him to act on his feelings when he wants to. With him, his kisses are slow and gentle. They will always start off like that even if he has a hard day. All he wants is to hold you, but it's like whenever your back hits the wall a gear starts turning in his brain. The idea of you having nowhere to go and enjoying it? Not even an Elder God is pulling him from your embrace. He gets handsy and a lot more affectionate around this time; he's kissing your face, neck, and shoulders too, because why the hell not?

Geras

Geras is a special case. He's an immortal who has never experienced romantic love before. So naturally you will have to teach him some things and even point out things he has observed that can be taken as romantic love. But he's still a man who has seen a lot, so this guy knows what kissing is and how to kiss. Surely you didn't think this giant fine ass immortal being didn't know how to treat his partner? Crazy talk! Understand that when you introduce the classic wall kiss by showing him what to do, he's leaning in to kiss you as he lifts you in his arms with no effort to be found and there won't be kissing going on much longer!

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed! collapses onto the ground

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, anxiety / paranoia, etc. words -> 2K

abstract -> Everything was lie... did I become who I hate?

y/n's perspective

“How’d it go?” San asked me as I just got comfortable in his arms.

“You shouldn’t get too comfortable, you need to get out of these clothes,” Yeosang said and I sighed. “You guys are watching the news?” I asked as I saw the TV on. “So far they’ve captured over eighty hybrids,” Wooyoung said and I felt disgusted that such people could do such things. “How was it?” San asked and I sighed. 

“There was this duo… one of them promised to help me if I got the circus shut down. I’ll have to do interviews and then it’s over” I said and they nodded.

“Just be careful… surely they’re being tested in which codes they’ll fit into,” Yeosang said and I nodded. I was planning on leaving when I heard a buzz by the elevator. 

“Miss l/n, there are two friends of yours wanting a visit” I heard and I was confused… Wonyoung, Johnny, and Yuta were the only ones to visit me unannounced and they were allowed up here without an announcement so who?

“We’re expecting guests?” Wooyoung asked and I was just as confused as them. “They have lots of bags and suitcases. One of them is named Zhong Chenle?” he said and I felt my eyes light up. I ran to the elevator. “Yes, let them up,” I said, noticing the three boys behind me looking confused at my sudden outburst. 

“Who’s that?” Yeosang asked and I smiled. “Some friends, who used to work in the clinic but decided to study abroad in China, didn’t tell me they got back,” I said now excited to see them but I could tell that Yeosang and San weren’t happy about them. 

“We heard you adopted three hybrids but we almost didn’t believe it” I heard and sighed at the sight of them. They carried a whole lot of bags… “I told you not to get me anything” I scolded and Chenle waved it off. “Well, you should’ve expected better,” Jisung teased. I chuckled. “Isn’t that?” Jisung wandered off while looking behind me. 

“Oh? Did they not tell you about Wooyoung?” I asked and they shook their heads. “No, but I would recognize that face anywhere,” Jisung said as I saw Wooyoung wag his tail and grow a smile on his face. 

“We thought you didn’t want to see us,” Chenle asked and he sighed. “Long story, but he’s mine now,” I said and the two laughed. 

“We’ve come to leave a few things, our dorm is getting crowded,” Chenle added and I sighed. They must’ve bought a bunch of stuff for the group… “How much?” I asked and they groaned. “You know how NingNing and Wonyoung are '' Jisung said and I could already imagine the whole bunch of text they must've sent them for errands. 

“Don’t forget Johnny-hyung,” Chenle added. “Well thanks for thinking of me, was it fun?” I asked and they grinned. “You need to see Chenle’s house” Jisung fanboyed 

“Though apparently, we don’t get a break we got back yesterday and Kun and Doyoung-hyung want us in already” Chenle added and I nodded. The circus hybrids…

“They don’t seem bad” “Hmm? They’re really nice, they bribe you with expensive stuff” I heard them whisper behind me. “Good luck! Be safe, I'll be over there soon either way!” I said and they nodded as they said their goodbyes before leaving. 

I peeked inside the bags and smiled… 

“Looks like hybrid stuff,” I said and that got the three of them their attention. 

“This is so hard to find!” Yeosnag said as he looked at the lotions and perfumes. “How’d they know?” San asked and I shrugged. One of my friends must've told them…

“Pretty” Wooyoung said as he found jewelry. Just how much did they buy for me?! I even saw expensive toys and clothes. 

San seemed to like the video games and perfumes, Yeosang found all the expensive brand skincare, Whilst Wooyoung found a bunch of toys…

I needed to get ready soon for the interviews…

“Hey! That's mine, it's in my pile!” and they are already fighting… thanks a lot Chenle and Jisung.

seonghwa's perspective

This place was… paradise and hell. I know I was lucky… while others are either being taken by facilities or breeding farms. 

Most of the hybrids were red coded and very few were black codes. I was yellow… because I behaved or I wanted to trust humans. 

I was just hoping Hongjoong was still here…

“His partner is a red code so be careful. He’s well behaved but… you can’t be too sure” I heard and I saw the door open. 

It was her again!

“Press the button if you feel unsafe at any time,” the staff member said as they left her alone with me? They never do that… Some humans have passed by to adopt and there’s always someone with them.

“Hello,” she said and I smiled softly. “Thank you… you actually went through with it” I said and she nodded. 

“Now it’s time for your part,” she said and I nodded. 

“What do you need to know?” I asked and she looked at her notebook as if seeing what to ask first.

“Let’s talk about the MATZ show,” she asked and I nodded.

“Hongjoong and I are… we’re the only tigers there. We were born there but we’re not related, they decided to pair us up as an act. They decided to make it more dangerous each show… testing our limits” I said whilst she wrote it down. I wonder what she had down… was she analyzing me? Was she even qualified to?

“Can I ask you something?” I asked and she stopped writing to look at me. “Do you own hybrids? Actually, no I know you own three, why are you helping hybrids if you own them?” I asked not wanting to be dismissive about her. 

“I do, I have a panther, a Doberman, and a fox. I adopted them here actually… and besides they didn’t have a chance to get adopted by anyone else so I adopted them to help them not because I'm a hybrid collector” she explained and I nodded. Was she telling the truth?

The interview went on about details which she left to talk to the doctor. 

“Seonghwa, on your best behavior.” I heard as I saw the employee open my kennel and put on the basic safety equipment. I was led to a different area… the red codes. Most of the kennels were glass-enclosed and so I saw a lot of hybrids staring at me with threatening glares. 

I saw her again though. She was in front of a kennel that was closed. “Behave, y/n, Kun is trusting you to be careful with him. He isn't aggressive but be careful, there's a button in case you feel that you can’t handle it anymore” the employee said as the leash was now given to her. y/n is her name… where have I heard that before?

She opened the curtain…

“Hongjoong!!” I yelled as I got close to the glass. “Seonghwa? You’re okay!” he said back and I was relieved. He’s alive… but he’s a code red. 

“What are you doing with her?” he asked as he glared at her. “She’s conducting interviews with hybrids… I actually don’t know why I'm here?” I said and she sighed. “Doyoung your doctor is worried about you guys being separated since you guys are a bonded pair” she explained.

Bonded pair?

“I won’t answer any questions from the hybrid owner,” he said and she sighed. I was curious about her hybrids… it was a weird combination and she said she adopted them here. 

“You don’t need to worry about them,” she said and he laughed at her. “They are bonded to you,” Hongjoong said and I realized he was right. She’s bonded to them…

“What did you do to have three hybrids bonded to you?” he asked demeaningly and she sighed. “That's my personal business.

Currently, I'm trying to help–” “You can’t do anything. You think if you bring him here in front of me it'll save you? If I get out of this glass cage I'd gladly get revenge for what humans did to me” he threatened and I sighed. I shook my head at him knowing I couldn’t help stop him. 

“Press your silly little button. Go home to your stupid little manipulated hybrids, I won't have to do anything cause one day they’ll turn on you. Hybrids will do anything to survive, even bond themselves to silly little humans” he said and I could see that struck a nerve in her. 

“If you comply–” “No, get that through your head. Believe it or not I am behaving enough to keep myself alive–” he started shuffling around showing he was actually out of his constraints. “–you aren’t safe. No hybrid owner is the cause at the end of the day we are animals. I could smell a cat hybrid on you… and a domestic one he could kill you. In your sleep or at any time, they’ll overpower you and you’ll deserve it” he said and I could see her eyes hold fear in them.

“Hongjoong stop,” I said and he scoffed. “Is she gonna cry? So sensitive… im telling the truth your firm does hybrid rights, you know the stories of hybrids killing their owners. Claws ripped the skin at their throats, cannibalistic tendencies, poison, and so much more. One day you’ll be on the cover–” She took a shaky deep breath and left… ran away. “Hongjoong that was unnecessary,” I said and he laughed. He had fun doing that… “It is the truth. You can’t deny it” he said and it was a possibility. 

“She seemed nice.. And in all honesty I'd rather be here than in that circus” I said and he laughed. “It's all the same, dear friend. Besides… “ he trailed off without smiling. 

“If she reacts like that… she knows it's true. So she isn’t the good little hybrid owner you think she is”

y/n perspective

That’ll never happen… they– everything is okay. They’re happy… but– San doesn’t like humans and didn't like me. Was it because he had to adapt? Wooyoung… he… he likes me right? Yeosang… he… did he decide to be with me because I could help him?

Not everything is real… but, San did… does hate me?

“Miss?” I heard taking me out of my thoughts. He was a man in a hat and a trenchcoat. “Are you okay?” he asked and I tried to compose myself but my eyes kept on producing tears… 

“Hey, don't cry. Please get up, Miss. You should be so vulnerable in the street there are terrible people–” I started crying more after that. Am I a terrible person?

“No no no… please don’t cry,” he said. “Miss, someone as pretty as you should be crying,” he said but it didn't help. False and empty compliments. 

Am I actually the same type of person that I expose? 

“What's bothering you?” he asked and I tried calming myself. “Is owning hybrids a bad thing?” I asked and he sighed. “Do you care and love them?” he asked and I nodded. “I just don’t think… They care for me. Hybrids will do anything to adapt and please their owners… I know that so– this is why I didn't want a hybrid! I-I… don't know what to do” I was lost. 

“Miss, please calm down. Hybrids… do adapt but you obviously care for your hybrids and I promise you, you’re overthinking. Did they tell you that?” he asked and I shook my head. 

“If you care for them so much and they care for you, that's enough. Not everyone shows kindness to hybrids” he said and I tried to stop the tears. 

“You shouldn’t be crying like this miss,” he said and I nodded

He helped me up from my crouching position and patted my head. “Someone like you should be crying like this for silly things. If you care for them this much I bet they care for you just as much maybe even more” he comforted and I smiled softly. 

“Oh did you drop this?” he asked as I saw my wallet. “Oh… thank you. I’m sorry I must've taken you from what you were doing!” I said and he chuckled. 

“No, of course not Miss. I didn’t mind, helping you” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[penelopepine]

Don't be a stranger! Pt. 8

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship, non-con drug use, light angst

Simon instantly felt his heart drop, “What do you mean she’s gone?” His voice was cold as he spoke. If Johnny is saying what he thinks he’s saying then someone is going to die today, that Simon can guarantee. 

Before Soap can respond though a gunshot rings out. "Soap, where are you? What's happening?" 

"We're at the small grocery store in town! Things here went from zero to hundred real quick; Beads is nowhere in sight." 

Right away Simon is moving; he has to get to you. "What the hell were you two doing off base?" 

"Just- I'll explain when-," Soap suddenly pauses , "Price?!" 

"Soap, go 4 aisles down; Gaz is there with Beads." Price's voice suddenly cuts through the phone. 

Price? Gaz? What were they doing there? An immediate uneasy feeling rises in his chest. This whole thing wasn’t making sense to him. 

He could vaguely hear Soap speaking to Price. The only thing he could make out was the clear anger and confusion in his voice. Moments later Price’s voice comes through clear as day, he can only assume that Price took Johnny’s phone. 

“Ghost, stay where you are.” 

“Price what the fuck is happening?” Simon growled. 

“Ghost.” Price took a deep breath before continuing, “It was all a set up. We planned for the possibility of Beads being targeted and taken once stepping off base. They did exactly what we thought they would do.” 

He couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing, “You used her as bait! Did you keep her in the dark too, or was I the only one that wasn’t given the truth?” 

“You, Beads, and Soap weren’t told anything. The situation here is under control though now, and once we're back we can discuss more. Laswell is already waiting for you in the main meeting room; she’ll explain everything a bit more to you.” 

Simon hung up. He didn’t want to hear anything more from him. If you’re hurt in any way there will be hell to pay. This whole plan shouldn’t have happened; much less with him not being told about it. 

He almost wants to disobey Price, and go find you right now. The only thing stopping him is also wanting answers for what is happening. As much as he wants to be with you he knows that you're mostly likely on your way to him right now. So he turns and storms his way to Laswell. 

Once reaching the meeting room he gives a sharp knock, but doesn't wait for an answer before opening the door anyway. Laswell is sitting already with a serious look on her face. "Ghost, sit down. Let's talk about everything calmly." 

Calm was the last thing he was feeling right now. All he wanted to do was yell; yell at everyone involved with making this plan. "Explain then." Simon sneered before sitting right across from her. 

"On Monday Soap and Beads approached Price about leaving base to go to the grocery store. Beads apparently wanted to make a special meal for you, and Soap said that he would gladly accompany her." 

"A Russian terror group broke into both of our flats. They know that she is connected to me. Leaving base shouldn't have even been considered." Simon argued back. 

"She's been here for almost a month, Ghost. There has also been no other signs of them attempting to get to you." 

Anger filled Simon's veins, "Of course there hasn't been any signs! They've been waiting for us to mess up, and this, sending her out there, was what they were waiting for." 

Laswell doesn't react much to his anger; only giving him an unimpressed look, "We had no way of knowing that though, and we couldn't have kept her on base forever. Which is why when Price asked about what I thought about letting her leave I agreed, but not without planning for the possibility that they would attack her." 

"Why wasn't I informed then?" 

"We knew that you wouldn't have agreed to it. You would have gone with her in full gear; which would have only brought more attention to yourselves." 

"And the reason for not telling Johnny then; the one who would have been right by her side if he had known?" 

"Soap is amazing at what he does, but he is not an actor." That Simon could agree with; which is why he would have much rathered Johnny to be obviously lying to you, then him not there to protect you. “We had a small team following them the entire time. Price and Gaz were watching her the entire time.” He knew Laswell was trying to calm his nerves as much as she could right now. Simon knew though that the only thing that could calm him was seeing you; making sure that you’re alright. 

“So Gaz training recruits and yours and Price’s meeting was a lie to keep me unassuming then?” He lets out an almost defeated sigh, “At least tell me she's alright.” 

Laswell for the first time doesn’t answer him immediately. She seems to be taking a few moments to assess his emotions before answering, “Price called me before you arrived. She is safe, whole, alive, but she did end up getting hurt. One of the men grabbed her before injecting some kind of sleeping drug into her-.” 

It was sudden ding from Laswell’s phone that stopped her from continuing. She took a few minutes to write them a message back before finally turning her attention back to him.

"She's here."  

Simon didn't wait to see if she had anything else to say before he was standing and walking out of the room to the med bay area. He feels guilty; he knows that he had no way of helping you avoid this since he wasn't told of the plan. You had been there though because of him; you had apparently wanted to do something special for him. 

If he could he'd go back and tell you that just being around him is all he needs because you are special to him. 

He's vaguely aware that Laswell is following him. Simon isn't interested in speaking to her anymore though. The only thing that matters is making sure you're ok with his own eyes; everything else can wait. 

Which is why he immediately goes to just walk past Price who was clearly waiting for him in front of the med bay doors. 

"Ghost." Price puts his hand on Simon's shoulder stopping him from entering. 

Simon knows that he could break Price's hold and continue on his way; he stops though, willing to give him one chance to explain his piece. "Price." 

“I know you’re upset, Ghost, and you honestly should be. Believe me though when I say that we were watching her the entire time. She got hurt, yes, but there was no way I was going to allow them to leave that building with her.” 

He trusts Price, trusts him with his life. Simon also knows that Price wouldn’t lie straight to his face about something like this, “I want to be included from this point forward. I don’t care if you think I’ll disagree. I need to be involved when it comes to her.” 

“I promise.” Price says with sincerity, “Now would you like to see her? She’s being taken care of right now; we can go to her room if you want to.” 

Simon doesn’t say anything else, only nods his head. The sooner he can see you the sooner he can finally breathe again.

Laswell during all of this had been silently typing away on her phone. "John, Ghost, I'll leave  you two here. The men from the grocery store are ready for questioning. I'll call on either of you if needed. Hopefully this can end the whole situation," she pointedly looks towards Simon now, "You and your friend will be able to walk freely if so." She then turns and walks down the hall away from them. 

Placing a hand on Simon's shoulder, Price directs them back to the doors, "Let's go." 

Price led them inside down the white sterile halls of the med bay till they reached your room. “Are you ready to go inside?” 

Without answering he pushes past and into the room. Then there you were, lying down asleep in a standard hospital bed. A doctor was also there standing next to you writing some things down on her clipboard. 

“Ghost, this is Dr. Withers, she has been the one taking care of her.” 

The doctor gives them both a nod, “She’s doing well. We’ve already done a blood test, and nothing except the obvious seems wrong.” Looking down at her clipboard she flips through a couple pages, "It seems they weren't able to inject very much of the drug; she'll be in and out for a few hours, but she should be waking up soon." With that she leaves them alone with you. 

In the silence that follows Simon makes his way to your side, sitting down next to you, placing his hand near yours. Price stands at the end of your bed, but his attention is solely focused on Simon. "You really care about this girl don't you?" 

"…I love her." He whispered to himself, but it was clear as day for everyone in the room to hear. 

Simon couldn't believe that he actually said it. He's been fighting with himself about what he was going to do about it, debating ignoring the feeling all together. In the end though this wasn't something he could run from. He loved you. 

“You love me…?” Your gravelly voice calls out. 

Note: Ahhhh I finally getting this chapter out! Thank you for reading this far. I also hope you have enjoyed the series as much as I have. The next chapter will most likely be the last update on this.

Also a special thank you to @nexthyperfix for beta reading this chapter for me!

Taglist: @nexthyperfix @yourdaydreamerfan @tf141gloryhole @just-pure-trash @definitelynotaclown

@141tfsan @arminarlertssword @openup-yourmind @evie-119 @v1x3n

@whos-fran @trcyyyyy @azkza @kaoyamamegami @yyiikes

@leryg0 @pansexualhailstorm @trulovekay @kdidgg @ane-sthesie

@zhongtar @shinebright2000 @blackhawkfanatic @cmbghost @prozacprinc3ss

@shizukunora

[cherie-doll]

Cherie, friend, babes AHH HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW ZOMBIE GHOST(technically not new, been a few months alrd I’m just late) and the little headcannon that he broke his jaw so he won’t bite and infect anyone?? It has me clawing at my heart sobbing QAQ

Could you write a fluff fic of Zombie!Ghost who still has an inkling of memory of what he was before or maybe like hcs/short scenarios of all the boys in a zombie apocalypse scenario?

Gods I can’t think of anyone better to write this one 😭😭😭 I love you, catch ya later!!!

yes! i do rmb reading a fic on idk where abt that hc

Zombie!Ghost x Reader (+Soap & Gaz)

Simon's hand had been quick to grab his jaw in a tight grip, applying force until he snapped it in one swift direction; breaking it. His jaw slacked, his mandible hanging; obscene and wide as blood spilled like water.

The efforts of the three of you; Johnny, Kyle, and you proved to be effortless when attempting to save Simon before the bite infected him. He'd taken care of it before any of you could think clearly. Panic had broken out among the group as your minds were thrown into disorder, unsure about what to do. Johnny had been at his side in an instant despite Simon's protests to stay back. And he in his panic, knowing he ultimately had no other choice to keep the rest of you safe, took action before better judgement dawned on him. The crack of bone echoed in the silent room as everyone watched in horror.

Simon was in agony. But how long does it take for a human to start losing their sanity and become nothing but a rotting corpse with an insatiable hunger? He knew, he'd seen it first hand. It took only an hour.

He deteriorated quickly. First, he lost his sense and sentiment... the very things that made him human. Sensibility was replaced by instinct. This showed when he lunged at Johnny, the flesh nearest to him. Simon attempted to bite down on Johnny's shoulder, desperate to get to the meat underneath the clothes. But with his loose jaw he was incapable of ripping through.

It took both you and Kyle to get him off Johnny and tie him down. You held back tears as you tightly secured the knots around Simon. Undoubtedly, his body was still in pain. The skin around the infected area had darkened like a bruise before it turned black. Spots of clotted blood became apparent on his skin and he felt hot, as if he had a fever. Beads of sweat formed on his hairline as he grunted.

As you observed him it seemed he was fighting a battle within himself. Flashes of memories rose to the surface emerging from the murky waters of his subconscious, having broken through the thick barrier in his mind. If his eyes were able to focus through the foggy white and meet your eyes, he seemed to recognize a being rather than tender flesh. Simon's eyes would soften as if reminiscing on a fond memory. And for a moment he seemed lost in a trance.

In the silence of the night, when it was your turn to stay guard, whilst Kyle and Johnny slept you approached Simon cautiously. As you came closer, he caught your scent and attempted to attack but was restrained by the thick ropes. You stopped a couple feet in front of him. Your eyes glanced at the ropes holding him back, and you noticed reddened skin caused from the friction and rubbing of the ropes.

You winced, unable to see him in such pain. Sadly, you looked into his cloudy eyes. Simon had withstood this on his own accord, he had chosen to go through this before any of you. Your weakened heart brought tears to your eyes as you kneeled before him. He stopped struggling against the ropes when his eyes were able to focus. The veil in his mind parted and his reaction was that of a human again.

You looked at him, with eyes unclouded and clear. He was able to see the reflection of himself in them. He felt before he saw, your outstretched hand coming near his face and delicately tracing the faint tearstains on his cheek. For a fleeting moment erasing the aching.

You both knew he couldn't hold on for much longer. Still without speaking, you placed a hand on his chest, over his faint heartbeat and tried to smile as your other hand entwined with his fingers. Simon couldn't give you anything but gentle eyes, a last effort at an affectionate gesture. The hands he wishes to stretch out and gather you in his arms, to hold you. A memory of once embracing you. To reach out desiring for touch and gentle lips that press kisses on skin instead of craving and sinking teeth into soft meat.

Your entwined fingers become undone and slowly his humane fades away.

[jolalibrary]

yours to keep

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader

wordcount: 4.6k || dedicated to @guyfieriii an: teensy smut, fluff, banter, friends-to-lovers babeh summary: You’re in a dress. Your legs are fucking out. His throat all of sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought.  other soap work.

“Why’d they call ya, Squid?” “‘Cause I’m tiny and can swim well.” “Seriously?” You smirked. “No. I kinda… maybe took out a room full of people with a knife. Nothing really. Just… My old Lieutenant said I must have had eight arms or something. So, Squid.” He watches as she looks down. “They tried Octo and Pus for a day, but… realised even within the military, the latter bordered on an HR complaint.” “Steamin’ Jesus.” 

Soap remembers when the rumours swirled about you and Gaz. 

The two of you were—and are—just good friends. He knows that, believes it, even. He knows there’s nothing but innocence when Gaz’s arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling an easy laugh from you—even if you were bruised and covered in blood, dirt and whatever else. You both knew one another—the only two out of the whole 141 that did—before it was formed. 

It didn't matter how good you were, the whispers still followed. They pricked at you. Soap remembers how you’d dip your head when you passed certain tables in the mess. How you only walked a little taller if you were with him, Ghost or Gaz. 

Now, the rumours were about you and him. 

The two of you having shifted and changed. One minute work colleagues, and then two people who’d needed the other for body heat. He hadn’t meant for the jokes to flow when the only thing that separated the two of you was underwear. But, your eyes had been shimmering, surrounded by snow tinting your lashes. Your beauty was apparent to him before, but harder to ignore when he looked down at you close to him. 

“You d’this with all the boys, lass?”  “No. Just ones from Scotland, it seems.” 

Truthfully, he’d thought you were stunning the moment he first saw you. But, there’s something about seeing the specks in someone’s eyes that makes things feel more intense. Been given the rare chance to study each angle of your cheeks, nose and brows—the way your lips curl when he makes a joke you clearly don’t want to laugh at. Letting him commit you all to memory, in case he never got a moment quite like it again.

Then evac rescued you both, and he half-expected things to go back to how they were. 

But they didn’t. 

The two of you remaining close, flirtatious banter flowing even in a room full of people. He thought you’d be less bothered, but you were more riled by the rumours. Especially at the beginning—when they first began—making your head dip, fists clenching and your eyes struggle to meet his. 

Now, he’s sure you lean into them, practically desperate for someone to dare egg you on so you can tell them he blows your back out. 

Not that he’s had the chance. But, fuck, would he. 

He’d do more than that given half a chance. Not just because you’re beautiful, not just because you make him laugh—but because you make his whole fucking heart soar. You make him better without doing anything, easily able to pull the good parts of him out. 

It had all been gradual, having crept up on him. The way you’ve embedded yourself into his thoughts. 

At first, it was in admiration at your hand-to-hand, the way you use your smaller frame to bend and twist. Then it was because you let your hair down, your head bent back, and your neck all exposed. The dark and dingy inn is full of weightless laughter and thudding music in some country far from home. Gaz pouring a clear bottle directly into your mouth. The way your eyes hit the light and how big your smile was when you stood straight, doing something instantly to him. Making him almost cross the short distance and wipe the vodka from your chin and lips with his tongue. 

Before, you were just Squid. 

Now, you’re more than that. 

You’re paradise and perfect days—and a messy bunch of emotions and snark he hates being away from.

Has been since you let him call you a nickname he’d only ever heard Gaz use and Gaz alone. He’d tried it, tested it, rolled it around on his tongue before he even said it to you. Almost having said it at the inn, when your eyes were glazed and your tongue loose. But, he’d waited—wanting you alone, all to himself so he could watch your reaction. 

See if he’d earnt calling it you. 

“Mari.”

“You know that's not my name, right?”

Your face having turned, the slyest smirk on your face. 

And he had hoped you don’t know he’s been working up to saying it. Almost getting lost in the odd twinkle of your eyes.

He knows, down the path of whatever the two of you become—if anything—this would be the moment he realised he liked you, liked you. That he imagined, for a brief fucking moment, that there could be a future. 

“Oh? Aye? Heard Gaz call it y’… just assumed.”

Shrugging, you stabbed your food again, a soft laugh escaping the air, blessing the space between them. “No, no, no. But it’s okay, you can call it me too. I mean, we did share some floorboards and a ratty blanket, the least I can do to thank you for keeping me warm.” 

He can’t even remember what he wanted to ask. The image of you against him—slightly shivering, eyes staring into his as your hand clutched his back—at the forefront. 

Everything else had vanished, stolen from his mind. Plucked by your beautiful eyes and brain-wiping smile. 

“What is your name?” 

“You know that’s classified, Johnny.”

“You know mine.” 

You had shrugged again, smirking. “If you keep letting me steal your fries, I might let you know.” 

He pushed the rest of his plate towards you, “Y’got it, lass.” 

“Why you want it so bad?” 

He leaned close, even if the rest of the mess hall wasn’t listening—not even paying attention. “Just be nice t’know what t’call y’when I’m fake blowin’ yur back out.” 

Your eyes met his. 

Time all of a sudden frozen. His own flicking from your eyes to the rest of your face, watching, waiting. The two of you have been towing this line so well, recently; dancing on the line of will-they-won’t-they flirtation. And sometimes, he’s not sure if he’s gone too far—if they’ve gone too far. 

So he hopes for a message. One from your face directly—cause it can never lie. 

And he sees it, a twitch of your lips, a slight narrowing of your eyes, before you steal another one of his fries, and bring it to your lips. 

“You’d learn it quicker if you actually blew my back out, Johnny-boy. I’d be like putty in your fuckin’ hands,” you had said, soft, sultry, and so low it took him a moment to realise what you’d just said. 

And then, like all good moments, it broke—Lt appearing, looming over the table. 

Since then—when shit really hits the fan—he seeks you without question. Your eyes land on him, instantly knowing—as if he’s a book and you already know all of his pages. 

When it’s you, he knows from the way your shoulders are sunk, the clear need to be held being written into each muscle. Mostly, it’s the dullness sitting in your eyes. Usually, they sparkle. Not quite a disco ball, but something close to it. When they shine bright, they make the darker days easier and the good days that bit better.   

He won’t admit it to anyone, but he loves having your head on his chest. For a moment able to dream—think—of a time when you’d be here for reasons not so sad. That you’d be here because it’s the two of you, against it all. 

Not just as friends. 

As something so much more. 

Then you leave before he wakes, the reminder it’s not quite that yet, feeling something close to a blade making tiny cuts—not enough to bleed him dry, but enough to make it sting, singe and ache. 

He really does hate the rumours—mainly because he wishes they were true.

“If you could eat anything for breakfast, what would you choose?”  “Gotta b’ a Scottish brekkie, ain’t it?”  “Streaky bacon?”  “Aye. Not a brekkie without it.”  “I guess.” “Y’not a fan?”  “Prefer cock for breakfast, if I’m honest.” “Fuckin’ hell, Mari.” “What? You forgot for a moment you’ve been stabbed, mission accomplished.” 

It’s rare. Unusual. 

The whole lot of you crammed in a bar, never mind some small pub in Manchester. Even more unexpected that it was booked out—a specific request for the group of you to bask in the success of the last mission. The one which had taken weeks—stole more from you all than you’d known you could give. 

It had been hard. Long. Difficult. 

So many more words he couldn’t quite think. But in all of it there were moments, tiny fragments he clutched onto. You seek him out, your face sunken and sad, burying your head into his chest as you hold onto him for what felt like hours. Him on a rooftop, staring out into the dark with Ghost, the two mindlessly talking, thinking, and planning, before he asks him where he wishes he could be. 

Now, as he sips his first drink, he replays it. Smiling to himself, because while Lt didn’t say this place, he suspects the name he whispered belonged to the person behind the bar. The one who keeps side-eyeing him, the occasional half-smile gracing their mouth. 

He takes another sip as he thinks of you. 

You who Soap had watched lose sleep. Finding you huddled over a map or screen with Gaz, low whispers, reluctance to rest. Using the few free hours of any given day to train—needing to be better. 

You didn’t ask him—or even Gaz—you’d asked Ghost. 

It ate at him. Chipped away. 

Soap blamed the lack of sleep for where his mind went. Using the same time stuffing down his jealousy over the fact you didn’t ask him. The wallowing peppered with thoughts of being inadequate, making his jaw clench, making him unravel just that bit more. 

In a way, they were all protective of you—not that any of them needed to be. But, it wasn’t something bizarre, out of character. It was something they all felt, tied together by the simple fact they’d come to care for the five-foot-something Squid. 

Even with that, he knows he feels something more. 

It’s been churning, twisting and transforming inside of him for weeks—months. His heart almost leapt from his chest when he thought you were in the building he’d watched being blown up. The compass he relies on to keep him north, disintegrating, dark shadows coming down around his eyes until he sees you emerge from smoke and flames—without your pissing helmet. 

Y’know how to scare me, lass.  Keeping you on your toes, Soapie. 

Now, he’s waiting for you. Paying attention to the hands on his watch—side-eyeing the door until it opens, blasting in cold, Gaz leading you in. 

And—

Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. 

You’re in a dress. 

Your legs are fucking out. 

His throat all of a sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. 

Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought. 

Punctuating it all is the soft lulls of Friday I’m In Love playing as he takes the moment to truly drink you in. It feels like minutes, maybe an hour—and he isn’t going to squander it for a second…

And then you blink, stepping up to the bar. 

“Hi, could I order—wait, you are beautiful,” you say to the woman behind the bar—your eyes staring at her. 

Gaz steps in, apologising, but all he’s focusing on is you. 

You’re here. 

Looking every inch radiant from head to fucking toe.  

And he needs another drink. He needs a shot. 

He needs…

A fucking hope and a prayer because he’s not sure if he can pocket his feelings anymore—unsure if stuffing them down will go well with alcohol, bitterness, and the smoothest scotch he’s had in ages. 

So he orders another. 

And three drinks down, and Soap is sitting across from you. A wobbly table between you both, your elbow leaning on it, rocking it from side to side occasionally. 

The scent of fusty ale and brass having faded, swapped for a floral perfume and the elements of his drink. 

You’re focused, even with slightly glazed eyes, on the bar—on the others behind the two of you. Likely on the girl behind the bar, the one you keep staring at—the one who keeps shooting Ghost smiles. 

And he’s jealous. 

He’s jealous because he’s wondering if you’re jealous.

If you want him—your two’s Lieutenant. The one who trained you, sparred with you, and made you go to sleep. 

“C'mon, lass. Desert island, who’d y’want with you?” 

“It’s her.” 

“Wha—?”

You blink, staring at him—your glass in hand as you shake your head. “What?” 

“Who’s ya best friend, lass?”

Your hands play with your glass, spinning it on the wooden table—the one with chipped and glass rings all over its mahogany surface, “From that, I’m guessing you’re hoping it’s you.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

His throat dries. 

Suddenly realising he shouldn’t have pushed this button. Not sure his frame of mind can even take it. Alcohol bubbling in his stomach, his throat—

“Who then?” 

“Gaz. Obviously.

“Why is tha’obvious?”

“He lives closer.” 

“Is that wha’ makes a friendship, then?”

“Well, my best friend wouldn’t willingly choose to live further away from me, would they?” 

He smiles, realising you’re pulling his leg. Winding him up. Teasing him. 

“Don’t you live closer to, Lt?” 

Leaning closer, you take a purposeful sip, staring him down. Searing down to the core. “Yes, but he can’t be my best friend.” 

Tell me why. Tell me it’s me. 

Choose me. Pick me. 

His heart thumping more, almost in beat with the song. Thump. Thump. Thump. It almost rises up, almost in his throat, pounding against the space he needs to breathe through.

“And, why’s that?” 

You drain your glass, clanking it down. “I can’t be best friends with someone who calls me ‘Squidlet’, Soap. It’s demeaning enough that I let him call me that, never mind rewarding him for it by giving him more of my awesome personality. He can be third in line.” 

And it sinks. 

That feeling. The hope. The want. 

“Well,” he says, quickly. “Ah, I’m glad y’pulled y’self away from Lt to drink with me then, ya fourth.”

“What?”

“Nothin’”

Your hand clutches his arm, stopping him from raising his own glass. “Tell me.” 

“Yur’ always wit ‘im. Before. Could n’va find ya.”

“Who? Gaz?”

“Nah, Lt.”

Inwardly, he cringes. Hating the alcohol, hating how it makes his tongue loose in his head. Letting all of it, each festering feeling, bubble to the surface. 

Because you’re more than his friend. 

You’re so much more. 

“Johnny… it… we were just sparring.”

“Yea, it’s alright—“

“Wait. Are you jealous?”

“No!”

He doesn’t mean to snap. 

Your eyes stare at him, hand dropping from his arm as you slowly reel back. And then you stand, and he inwardly pleads for you to sit. 

Please, Lass. Please. 

Your mouth opening, words all set to be spat, but then you shake your head, walking until you’re out of his sight—the cold draft on his back is enough of an indication of where you've gone. 

Leaving him with a choice. 

One that begins to grow inside of him as the song begins. One he’s heard already, but now it feels different. It’s motivating, it’s making him down his drink, slamming it back down. 

It’s making him stand, turning, watching the other three men staring at him, two with a knowing smile, one with a knowing stare. Even the woman—he doesn’t know the name, who he’s sure is fucking Ghost—leans against the pumps has that look. 

And he knows.

Like they all do. 

His feet move him to the door as Price grabs him around the forearm. “So, the rumours true, or?” 

“Aye, well ther’ about to be, sir.”

“That so?”

“Yeah… I’d apologise, but, excuse me.”

It’s cold. 

That’s what he thinks first when he steps outside. Eyes adapting to the dark, to the mist from the rain—letting the bitter feeling coat his bones. The dread, the fucking ache caused by even letting you go. 

He pleads. 

Hopes, too. 

Please don’t have left, lass. 

Scanning, looking, and then he hears it. Pacing—pacing that he knows so well it’s burned into his brain. Finding you, watching you down the side of the alleyway, turning to face him as you stop, hands flexing at your side as you stare at him. 

“You’re very annoying.” 

“Aye, probably,” he says, stepping closer. “But, that’s cause y’drive me crazy, and I canne’ stop thinkin’ bout ya. And then, your wir’ him and…” 

Your eyes roll, strands of hair sticking to your face. “Oh, shut up. You know it’s you. You know I like you. You have to.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Because it’s woven neatly between my faux-contempt and sarcasm.”

“Well, y’can probably see how I may have missed that, ay?”

“Not really. I think it’s pretty obvious. Personally. I don’t share a bed with Gaz. And I’m not standing outside as it fucking pelts it down in a ridiculously thin dress because I like British weather. I’m stood out here because the guy who is my best friend, and that I’m pretty sure I could be in love with, is being a dickhead.”

Staring, he steps closer, watching you fold your arms. “Y’in love with me?”

“Of course, that’s the part you heard.”

“Mari—“

You cut him off, not just with your eyes, but with your words. “I mean, as big as Ghost is, it’s not him I ask to lie in bed with after a difficult mission. It’s not him that I go to when I need to smile or laugh. Fuck, I only chose him for sparring because he doesn’t go easy on me, and… and I can’t have you thinking you need to save me.”

“I don’t—“

“—but you do. You practically ripped up Urzikstan to find me.”

“Cause y’were ambushed, lass. Not cause I dunna think y’can handle y’self. Shittin’ Jesus, I know y’can. Y’terrify me because I canne’ lose you. Not cause I dunna think y’can do it.”

It sits there. 

His words. Yours. The two of them ferment, shifting. The space between the two of you gets smaller until his hand is on your cheek, and yours is on his waist, and he wants nothing more than to close the gap. To kiss you. To taste the drinks you’ve been sipping from your lips. 

But he pauses. 

Needing to capture this, the two of you. 

“Soap…”

“Yea’, Mari…” 

He watches you swallow, how your eyes flick from his own to his mouth. “I’d be lost without you, Johnny.” 

He’s not sure who moves first. You, or him. 

But you taste like sweetness and alcohol—your lips cold against him, tinged with the droplets from the sky. Your perfume envelops him, swirling with his, making a concoction of something he thinks he wants to bottle. You and him. A scent he’s both never smelt before and yet had been craving as his hand slides around your cheek—clutching you close as he feels your hands dig into his waist. 

You moan against him, soft, low, almost vibrating through him. Your soft, fucking lips and he slides his tongue against your teeth, and he almost loses his goddamn mind. 

Because it’s happening. 

And he doesn’t want it to slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever. Moving you, as you suddenly begin guiding him, his back against the wall of the pub. 

For a moment, he stops, and then your fingers crack open his belt. The sound loud, so loud, in the silence of the night and the rain making puddles. Your mouth capturing his, your hand sliding down the space and nestle of hair between his stomach and cock. Your hand wraps around him, and it’s…  

More than he thought it could be. 

Even more so when you stroke him, pumping him with your hand, eliciting a groan as he feels your grip tighten, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you slowly lower to your knees in front of his very eyes. 

“Fuck, Mari. Y’dont even know what y’do to me.” 

“I can feel it, if that helps.”

“Ay, behave.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, lips practically touching the head of his cock as your breath dances over the tip. 

“Make me, Johnny.”

He blinks. 

Stares. 

And then your mouth is around him, taking him into your warm fucking mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip of him. And it’s everything. The image of it alone almost makes him come down your throat until it hits him—

“What the fuc—“ you snap.

His hand dragging you off him, up onto your feet. 

“No girl o’mine is suckin’ me off on her knees in this shite weather.” 

Your lips part, rendered silent as you just stare. “Your girl?”

“Aye, if you want to be?” 

Just the wind blowing down the alleyway, your perfume hitting his nose like it has done all night. Scratching the back of his brain, coaxing him closer with its scent-filled fingers. 

“Did you… did you just stop me from sucking you off?” 

“Aye.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, you love me, you love me back...” 

He runs his tongue over his teeth. Because fuck, he kinda does, but, also, fuck. 

“This fuckin’ dress—“ he groans instead, turning you, pressing your back against brick as you smirk. “—that fuckin’ smile.” 

You clutch his waist as he winds his hand up your thigh, his belt clattering against his legs as his trousers slide down. “All for you, Johnny.” 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Mari. Call me that again,—“

And then you say your name. 

Surrendering it, presenting to him. It’s the best thing he’s ever been given. It almost mingles with your breath, it’s that silent. The only evidence of you speaking it is the wisps of your exhale swirling with the air. 

He rolls it around his mind, as he did with your nickname, and then he says it as he slips his fingers under the band of your lace. Sliding two inside of you, groaning at the feel of you—of how much you want him. Not Simon. Not Gaz. Him. 

“Only you,” you say, all breathy, eyes closed. 

As if you can read his thoughts. Like you’re living in his fucking head. 

“Only ever you.” 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

Your eyes open, lust boldly staring at him as he finds that spot—the one which makes you grip his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt. 

And he’s going to ruin you. He’s going to fuck you until neither of you can take anymore. 

He promises it to you with each stroke of his fingers inside you, each ghostly kiss he gives you as you chant his name and he catches each one. 

He will. But not here. 

That’s what hotels are for. 

“Hey, none of that being cute, shit, today. I’m in enough trouble with Price as it is.” “Ay. Alright. But, y’think I’m cute?” “Shut up, Johnny.” “Got it, lass.” A beat happens, him staying as he watches you. “You don’t have to stay, Soap.” “I want t’.” “Okay.” “Alrighty.” 

He awakens to a knock. 

It’s not loud, but dull. 

And very bloody insistent. 

Slowly, he opens his eyes, half-hoping his mind hasn't lied to him, before finding your face close to his—turned to him, watching him. 

It’s not a dream. 

“Hi…”

“Hello,” you say, rocking your hips as you smile. 

If you ever try to tell him you don’t look beautiful in the morning, he’d pull up this image of you—right here. 

“Someone’s at the door, Johnny.” 

“Y’got legs, Mari.” 

“No, I don’t, actually,” you say with a smirk. “Someone fucked me to the point they’re broken. I almost knocked myself out getting to the bathroom for a wee an hour ago. You did this, so you go.” 

It blooms in his chest as he stands, throwing on his underwear as he heads to the door. 

The smirk not fading, not just because of the knowledge he’s done that to you—made your legs weak—but that you were staring at him how you just had been doing. The realisation that your body is naked under those expensive, Egyptian bed sheets—the same ones he’d fucked you under, on top of and likely around throughout last night. 

If you’re trying to blow my back out, you’re succeeding.  Y’know I don’t like t’fail missions, hen.  Call me that again. Wha? Hen?

It’s different, unique. 

A look he’s never seen. It’s almost content mixed with adoration, happiness trying to be hidden by disdain—the latter something you’ve perfected over time. 

Am I your best friend now?  No. You’re something else. Oh, upgraded, am I? What is it you say? Aye?

He looks back, finding you watching him, hand up, close to your face, trying to shield your face. Maybe hiding a smile, a devious smirk. But, it’s the look in your eyes he almost can’t place, it almost stops him. Makes him ask what is wrong. 

But they knock, again. Interrupting a moment he’s been wishing for more than he does a shower after being covered in guts and blood. Whoever they are, impatiently bothering them. 

It’s not until he opens the door, the person standing with a cart and metal dishes on it does he realise—

“Room service.” 

The minx. 

The beautiful, fucking minx.

He grins, almost to the point it makes his cheeks ache as he takes it from them. Trying to guide it back into the room with minimal clanging and difficulty. His hands are desperate to pull the lid off, finding your hand on top of his—body covered in pulled sheets from the bed, teeth biting your lips. 

“What’cha done ‘ere then?” 

His hand brushes your cheek, finding it as soft as it always is—your eyes softening, lips widening as you move into him. It’s different, and he’s glad. It’s closer, with no space between the sides of your body, no remaining space left purposefully because of friendship. 

“Streaky bacon…”

“Aye?” 

Lifting the tin, seeing a whole plate full of it. His head turning, looking at you, watching you smile up at him—your hand on his chest, drawing those soft shapes—the same ones you did when the two of you caught your breaths after the third… maybe fourth… time he made you come on his cock. 

“Y’still like t’ same thing for breakfast, Mari?” 

“Only if it’s yours.” 

His cheeks burn—his ears too. “Y’heavenly, you are.” 

“I try” 

You lift the other tray, his eyes finding an array of fruit. Watching you take a piece, popping it in your mouth. His questioning look must be evident, your eyes watching him as you swallow. 

“Ghost once told me sugar is good post-workout—refuels the muscles or something,” you say, swiping your tongue against your bottom lip. “And we still have this room till 11am, don’t we? And I thought, since we’ve already wasted a lot of time—” 

He captures your lips. 

The sheet falling from between the two of you, like paper to the floor—effortless and silent. His body flush against you, feeling your giggle bubble through you to him. All light, airy—and fucking perfection. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your lips as the two of you fall back into bed. 

“Yours,” you whisper back, throwing your leg over him as you straddle him, hovering your lips over his. “All yours, till you’re sick of me.”

He moves your hair from your face, grasping your hip—thump fitting over the growing bruise he’s already left. “‘never be sick of you, Mari.” 

an: reader is called mari... because of calamari... squid joke ;)

prequel jealous!soap fic here

[spectres-n-soap]

Times Long Since Past - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy, pregnancy

A/N - Not gonna lie when I say I nearly cried writing this part.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The therapy office was located in a strip mall that had obviously once been a 1950s era housing estate in the past. You glance around the parking lot before Simon places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you from whatever pit you were trying to sink into. “Don’t stress.” He mutters and you roll your eyes.

“When in the history of the world did that ever make someone not stress?” You ask and he shakes his head but you can see his eyes crinkle just slightly. You sigh and look at the general area where the office was as your hand rests on your stomach. “Do you really think this will help?”

Simon nods, “It helps.” You sigh again before you nod and begin walking towards the office. A bell jingles over the door when you enter the office, Simon not far behind you and keeps the door open for you so it doesn’t bang into you. The receptionist smiles at you, a well practiced kind smile as she gestures for you to come forward. The waiting room was comfortable, only one other person sat in one of the chairs mindlessly flipping through the magazines. 

“Name?” The woman asks and you try not to let the happiness in her voice grate on your soul. Would you be happy like her again? You give her your name and she nods as she types it into the computer, “Date of birth?” You mindlessly rattle it off and give her the time of your appointment (in fifteen minutes) and she smiles at you, “Alright, if you could fill out these forms,” She passes the forms on a clipboard with a pen. “And take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You waddle over to the nearest seat and sit down before you start to fill out the form. Its basic questions and you recognize them all from your psych evals in the military. You bite your cheek before you begin to fill them out truthfully. When you finish, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down. 

The therapist is nice. Clinically nice. You want to scream and rage as he calmly asks questions about what brought you here. His voice is perfectly level and you can’t even use it as an excuse for the reason you think he’s judging you. “It's not my job to judge, it's my job to help.” He says when you hesitate to answer.

“I lost someone very close to me.” You answer, picking over the words carefully because you and Johnny hadn’t put a label on it before he had died. Your stomach lurches at that sudden thought and you squeeze your hands into fists. 

“I see. Was this person the father of your child?” He asks and you nod tightly. The thought still leaves an awful taste in your mouth.

“He died in action.” You take in a shaky breath, “He didn’t even know.”

“Let's start there. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable we can stop this session.”

You leave not feeling better or worse but like a small weight had been lifted from your chest. As you walk back out into the waiting room with the therapist, talking about the date of your next appointment you see Simon. You freeze, having totally forgotten he had promised to wait for you the entire time. He inclines his head at you and you're brought crashing back into reality. 

You climb into his car and as he turns it on he offers to buy some lunch. “Got any cravings?”

“I’m pregnant. Of course I have cravings.” You grumble, “Mexican food. From this little hole in the wall place.” He hands you his phone, which is all kinds of busted up but the screen still works so he hasn’t replaced it yet, for you to type the address into.

You take a seat at one of the outside tables and a young man hands you both a small menu. The smell from inside the restaurant makes your stomach rumble and apparently the baby is into the smell too because they kick at your stomach. Hard.

You wince and bow your head a little as you hiss out a “ Fuck. ” You don’t see the way panic shoots through Simon but you feel his hand grab yours. You don’t pull away.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” He asks and you shake your head.

“The baby just decided to do some kickboxing, no big deal.” You let out a tight laugh that hardly seems to convince Simon. “Simon, I’ll tell you if it hurts okay? Promise.” Those words seem to put at ease and the arrival of your waiter draws attention from the way his ears turn pink.

Lunch is quiet between the two of you after that moment partially helped by the way you sort of shovel the food into your mouth. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as you bite into enchilada and Simon coughs on the sweet soda he had been drinking.

You and Simon arrive back at your flat, takeout box in hand because your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you had ordered another enchilada and he places it in your fridge as you settle down onto the couch. Exhaustion pulls at you despite the good sleep you had gotten last night and you hardly notice when Simon places the throw blanket on your lap.

“You know… you still have some gifts to open.” Simon mutters and you look at him with bleary eyes and make a noise of confusion before you look at what he has in his hands. The gifts from the MacTavish family. Your stomach sinks and your throat closes up at the sight. You sniffle but reach for one of the soft green green eyes.

Inside the first one is a little soft green dinosaur onesie and a few baby books. One of the books has a couple of lullabies and nursery rhymes. The other is easy recipes to make during the first couple months with the baby. More onesies in the next one, soft blues, pinks and yellows, a teddy bear and a card with a heartfelt message from his sisters. Of course a few items such as a milk pump and a diaper bag are already filled to the brim with items.

Just as you think you’ve finished opening everything, Simon hands you a card and one more bag. “The cards from Mrs. MacTavish, the bag is from me.” He clarifies although he really didn’t need to. The bag was a soft gray. You open his gift first and genuinely laugh when it's a onesie with little skulls. You shake your head at his gift before you set it to the side. You carefully pull the card from the envelope it was in and open it. A couple pictures fall onto your lap but you read the message first.

My bairn was a lot of trouble during those first few months. I hope yours doesn’t come with the same mischief for the sake of both of you. I know there is nothing I can say to ease the pain or the hole that Johnny left in you but you’re not alone. You’ve been given a beautiful gift whether he knew it or not. You’ll always have a piece of my wee boy and you’ll always be welcome in my home. I’ve made a few copies of pictures of when Johnny was a wee bairn for you. Welcome to the MacTavish family.

You glance down at the pictures, tears in your eyes as you look through them. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left you at one of the pictures. Chubby baby Johnny pouting in his chosen outfit but the others make tears fall from your eyes. You rub your thumb over one of the photos of him smiling up at the camera, chubby hands holding his foot up.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring: A Love-Sick Nanami Kento

Synopsis:You and Nanami have been friends for benefits for quite a while now, with no issue! At least, no issue as far as you knew. Kento's caught feelings for you though, and even though he knows he should stay away and get over this crush, he simply can't ignore your 1:45 am "You Up?" text.

Warning: This fic is a drabble containing angst (if ya squint), fluff, and is really just smut with some plot thrown in. Rating NC17, Reader Discretion is advised ;)

Oh, and if you'd like, why not check out my Masterlist?

Nanami was awake again. It was 1:45 in the morning, and he was awake. Fuck. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if he should just give up the fight; accept that he was just going to be tired in the morning and indulge his Netflix binging demons. He sighed in defeat, grabbing the remote. Before he could turn anything on though, his phone vibrated next to him. He grabbed it before his brain could fully register what he was doing.

It was 1:45 in the morning. Only one person in the world was going to text him at 1:45 in the morning. He checked his messages and yep. Just as he was expecting. 

One New Message from Darling: hey, you awake?

Nanami was pretty sure he was worth more than a generic “You Up” text. In fact, He knew he was. And he knew that responding to that text was the worst possible thing he could do at that moment. He wanted far more out of this than she ever would. Catching feelings was probably the second stupidest thing a person could do, preceded only by continuing to sleep with the person you have one sided feelings for. He wouldn’t do that to himself.

Yeah, I’m up. Why are you awake?

God damn it Kento. He cursed himself silently for doing this to himself again. One day one day he would grow a spine strong enough to put his phone down when she messaged, or at least put it on silent. But apparently that day was clearly not today. He groaned softly as he propelled himself out of bed, grabbing a shirt to throw on. The first top he touched was an ancient Tool shirt from when he was still in college. He thought about grabbing something nicer, but ultimately threw it on. Not like he’d be wearing it for long anyway. He did manage to put on jeans to look at least a little more put together.

Darling: I’m thinking about you ;) I got a bottle of Blue Label that’s been begging me to open it. Wanna come help me drink it?

Not really. Nanami wasn’t a huge fan of blended scotch. He knew this, he knew you knew this. But, it wasn’t about the scotch, was it?

Johnnie Walker? I’m already on my way.

He hoped the sarcasm read through the text. He hoped the sarcasm didn’t read through the text. He didn’t really know what he hoped for honestly. What he did know was that he wanted to be with you. He was also pretty sure you didn’t want to be with him in the same way, and that he should at least try to get some distance. He wanted to get over this crush. He didn’t want to get over this crush. He grabbed his keys, deciding he’d sort out his tangled emotions some other time. 

🥀🥀🥀

He always felt silly trying to get his nerves together long enough to knock on your door. He was a fully grown man getting butterflies at the thought of being with a girl, it was silly! But, at the same time, it wasn’t just a girl. It was Y/n. It was a girl who had always been there with him, and supported him though some of the darker times in his life. The girl he thought he was going to marry back when he was in highschool. The girl he wouldn’t mind wifing up now if she gave him the chance. But, why would she? He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

You were all smiles when you opened the door, wearing a sleep set Nanami knew you didn’t actually sleep in. It was small, and clung to you perfectly, only a few steps away from being basically lingerie. It made him proud to know you wore it for him. 

“Well hello Gorgeous,” He smiled, placing a hand on your hip and leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Do you always get dressed up so pretty to go to sleep?” He teased.

“Nope, only when I’m expecting company.” You giggled, moving out of the door to let him in. 

“You get company in the middle of the night often?” He asked as he sat on your couch, trying to hide his absolutely unfounded jealousy. 

“Check your phone if you really want the answer.” you said as you closed the door and joined him on the sofa. He chuckled softly, happy to know he was your only late night visitor. You smiled as you curled into his side, taking in his familiar warmth. He wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked.

“No, not at all,” He assured you, “You know I don’t sleep anyway.” He joked. He’d struggled with insomnia and night terrors for years. If anything, the distraction alone was welcome.

“You really should work on that,” you joked, “Sleep is important you know.”

“You're one to talk,” he laughed, “You’re up too you know.”

“Hey, I tried to go to sleep!” You protested with a giggle, “It’s not my fault I woke up. I had a dream.”

“Is that so?” Nanami asked, tilting his head at you in amusement. “And what were you dreaming about, Beautiful?” you grinned and bit your lip, deciding to use this opportunity to take some initiative. You moved to placed yourself on top of

him, putting one of your legs on either side of his hips and placing your hands on his shoulders for balance.

“I was dreaming about you Kento,” You purred softly to him. He smiled, placing his hands firmly on your hips to keep you stable. God, you always looked gorgeous from this view. It was his favorite way to have you.

“Were you now Princess?” He muttered, “What were we doing in your dream?” 

“This.” You said, leaning down to kiss him. Smooth. He chuckled softly before pulling you in closer, pulling your bottom lip into his teeth. You gasped softly at the gentle pain, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

There was something undeniably right about kissing Nanami. The way his mouth fit perfectly against yours, the way his soft lips moved, how he always tasted like strong tea and mint. You would kiss Nanami for an eternity if the world would have let you. And he would have happily obliged. 

His left hand glided up from your hip to tangle in your hair. He gave it a quick, sharp tug, lighting a fire in your core and pulling a soft moan from your throat. Nanami chuckled softly.

“You sound so pretty when you do that.” He said, his right hand moving in between your legs, leaving you clinging to his shoulders for balance. “I want to hear more.” Your shorts were small enough you might as well have not bothered with them. It was only when he moved the crotch aside that he realized why you had.

“Commando huh?” He teased, “It’s almost like you were expecting this.”

“Oh shut up-!” You tried to laugh, but Nanami’s thick fingers running up your slit cut your words off. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Princess, were you saying something? I didn’t quite catch that.” He smirked, swirling tight circles into your puffy clit. You could feel the slick gather between your legs, killing any retort you had before it escaped your lips. Nanami knew your body better than anyone else you’d ever been with, and took every opportunity he could to remind you of that fact when the two of you were together. 

Every movement of his digits sent another wave of illicit electricity through you and to your core. Wave after wave, building up into a riptide pleasure threatening to take you underneath it. You moaned out shakily, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gripped him tighter, getting lost in ecstasy.

And Nanami couldn’t get enough of the sight. You always looked breathtaking, but something about watching you come undone on top of him always set his heart into overdrive. “Fuck, you look so pretty.” He muttered to you, “Feel good?” He asked. You nodded to him. You had about one good sentence left in you, and you wanted to use it for this.

“P-please Sir…wanna cum on your cock..” You whimpered to him, looking up at him from under long lashes. Fuck. Kento was honestly lucky he didn’t cum right then and there in his jeans. You always knew exactly what to say to leave him even further wrapped around your finger, a slave to your every beck and call. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” He grinned. He took the opportunity to rip the crotch of your shorts in two, giving him much easier access. You didn’t really care about losing the cheap set, much more interested in unbuttoning Kentos jeans and getting his cock into you. You bit your lip as you got him out. You wouldn’t say this about many guys, but Kento genuinely had a pretty dick.

His hands found your hips, and despite his better judgment his eyes met yours as he guided you down onto his length. This was always his favorite part, the part that played on repeat in his head on nights when you didn’t text him. Watching the way your eyes screwed shut, how you bit your lip, the sharp breath you pulled in as you braced for impact. Fuck. He let out a shaky moan as he finally pushed into you, your velvety walls pulling him even further in.

“Kento, fuck” You moaned out, sharp spikes of pleasure rippled out from your core as he graced your g-spot. You could feel yourself quiver around him. You were so close earlier, you knew you weren’t going to last long now. 

“Jesus christ, you belong in a museum.” Kento mumbled as he took in your features. You were a piece of art to be praised and prized, and he fully intended to make you believe that you were. He bucked his hips up, and you saw stars. 

“You feel so good Sir,” You muttered, tangling your fingers into Nanami’s hair and pressing your forehead to his. Every movement of his hips sent another wave of euphoria through you, only intensifying the tsunami building up inside of you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Nanami was lost. He could feel his heart rate picking up, and it wasn’t from the physical activity he was performing. You were so close, too close. Your soft breathy moans filled his ears, your scent filled his lungs. You felt so, so perfect in his arms. He was convinced only you could make such a sinful act look so divine. Against his will, thoughts of your laugh and your smile entered his mind. 

Memories of the two of you working perfectly together, celebrating all the events in your life together, big and small. You may have seen a friend when you looked at him, or worse, a late night hook up. But when he looked at you, he saw the woman he wanted to build a life with.

 “God, you're perfect Y/n,” He whispered to you, “You’re so fucking good for me, so pretty. So fucking sweet and kind, and fuck. I love you Y/n.”

FUCK.

“Wai, wha?” You slurred, trying to look at him. Nanami was quick though, flipping you off of him and onto your hands and knees before you could see his panicked eyes. He did not just fucking say that, motherfucker Kento! What were you thinking?!

“I said, I fucking love your cunt,” He rasped out, ramming into you with enough force to hopefully knock the memory out of your mind. You found your face shoved into one of your decorative pillows while he rammed into you from behind. The new angle left you screaming profanities into the pillow. Every push of his hips set your blood on fire, creating an inferno inside your core that threatened to burn you alive.

“Kento!” You yelled out.

“Yea, that’s right Princess, say it again.” Nanami said, trying to distract himself from his colossal mistake. It wasn’t hard to do when your pussy was gripping him like a vice, pulling him right back in every time he pulled out. He held your hips tight enough to leave bruises you could take fingerprints off of. He wanted you to remember he was there when he was gone. 

“Kento, please, I-I’m close..” You stuttered out, feeling the knot in your stomach get tighter and tighter.

“Is that right pretty girl?” He asked, pushing into you with a vengeance. This was probably going to be the last time you called him over, he was going to make the most of it. His right hand slipped down your body, and two of his fingers found your clit. He massaged expert circles into it, pulling a truly embarrassing moan from you. His every move sent your nervous system into overdrive. Your head was filling with fluff and your blood felt explosive.

“Then come on. Cum all over my cock like the dirty girl you are.” Something in his words and everything in his movements sang to your pleasure receptors. A few more swirls from his fingers and a few more thrusts of his hips and you were coming undone. The knot inside your stomach exploded into a thousand waves of pleasure and oxytocin. You swear you saw white as the tsunami overtook you. 

And Nanami wasn’t that far behind. The way you seized around him, your warm walls enveloping him and trying to pull him impossibly further in undid him. He barely managed to pull out, cumming all over your back and ass as he did. It was a pretty fucking sight. He would have taken a picture if he was about 40% more coherent. 

You collapsed face first onto the couch, and Nanami braced himself on the back, still breathing hard. His confession was still ringing in his head. Did you buy his lie? Probably not. You were smarter than that. 

Fuck.

Once his breathing started to regulate, he finally stood up, fixing his pants and going to your bathroom. He returned not long later with a warm, damp washcloth, cleaning up the mess he made on your back. You groaned out softly.

“Sorry about the mess.” He muttered once you were cleaned up. His fingers gently traced the outline of your spine before he patted you gently. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” He muttered. 

He threw the rag in your hamper as he got you into your bed. “Stay with me?” You muttered softly. Oh, good. That probably meant you didn’t hear his confession. Or you did and were completely okay with leading him on forever. But, that wasn’t like you. He nodded and laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was only going to make things worse for him in the end. But he couldn't help it. All he ever wanted was to be close to you.

“Hey Kento?” You muttered softly.

“Yea Y/n?” He asked softly.

“I love you too.”

[squiddy-god]

Task force T4T

Jhonny "soap" McTavish

Ok so apparently this needs to be a series (: anyway some people are really weird about trans!Soap and really fetishize it. So I would like to re-state that I AM A TRANS MAN. Also if you fetishize trans!Soap or any other trans people you are weird and I wish you the worst <3 also this is meant for trans men specifically, I don't care who interacts but keep in mind this is for trans men. I will probably make a x transfem version! 

Tw : dysphoria, nsfw under cut, tooth rotting fluff, transphobia, t4t, mlm, trans soap x trans masc reader, periods, pre bottom surgery implied, period sex. 

God gives the fattest tits to his most trans masc of soldiers 

Soap has recently gotten top surgery and he loves it 

His scars aren't very noticeable but he really doesn't care, he's just glad to have them gone. 

Soap still wears his binders sometimes tho they don't really bind any more for him it's more to feel connected to that part of himself

Soap isn't concerned about passing as Cis, he's very proud that he's trans 

Has a Scottish🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 flag over his right peck and has a slightly smaller trans flag over his ribs on the left side 

It's on his ribs so he has a excuse to show off his abbs smh

A lot like ghost there are so many ways that you could meet but I'll give you a few that I really like

One is the basics, he saw you at the bar across the way, drinking or not, your hanging out with friends having a grand time and soap is just smitten

He's confident and he'll be damned if he lets such a handsome man pass him by. So he walks up and asks to buy you a drink, “can a buy ye’ a drink” you assumed that the handsome Scott was asking one of your friends till he looked right at you, beaming blue eyes locked in and laser focused “cannae let a braw man like yer’self get away” 

Johnny comes on strong and playful, just enough to make you laugh and let him buy you a pint while he sweet talks you. 

He honestly hadn't noticed your pride pin but once he does he's all smiley and pulling up his shirt to show his tattoo 

Alright number two is your his neighbor! He's not home super often but he's always really nice when he is home, and he won't like he has a bit of a puppy crush on you, talk a bunch about his handsome neighbor. Well one day he's on medical leave for a while, almost blew himself up on a mission and has a bit of nerve damage that needs to heal up. You saw him come home early in the morning when you're leaving for work and decided to do something nice! Made him some bloody good cookies 

The second he opened his door you see you, his good looking neighbor with a batch of cookies in hand he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. 

Meanwhile he was in his binder and a pair of shorts

 You knock on the door, a bit on the nervous side considering this would be the first real time you've talked to your neighbor outside of a few polite conversations checking the mail. Yet here you are with fresh cookies in your plastic tupperware container. True be told it didn't take Johnny long to Answer, undoing the latch and opening the door wide to be met with you, the guy he'd been (not so) subtly pinning after. Johnny was casual, mohawk cropped a bit lower than normal since he'd only just gotten back, and his chest covered by an ever so slightly loose fitting binder. It was plain black, coming just down his ribs almost like a crop top and showing off the hair of his stomach just below his navel. 

Soap is a hairy guy, the T really does wonders for his hair, he's also been on T for a while 

Has never liked needles and prefers to use gel or patches if he can help it. 

He also eats a diet with a lot of trace testosterone in it and that helps 

Thighs like a fur carpet smh 

He owns a few binders, a plain black one, a black tank top binder that looks more like a compression shirt, and of course, his favorite Scottish flag binder. He also has custom binders that match the tartans of the kilts he has. 

Absolutely has gotten into a bar fight with a transphobe and it will absolutely happen again. 

All of his sisters were definitely his biggest supporters growing up. 

“What're yer pronouns so I ken how to cuss ye out” type behavior 

The two of you have matching silly binders with fun patterns on them 

Soap is an irregular period haver, that shit has a schedule no man could figure out. He tries to track it, but it just happens whenever it wants and feels like it. 

Has had two periods in a month. 

Luckily they tend to be short. Unluckily they are heavy. Not really painful but just heavy. 

Gets super exhausted during his period. 

Military grade pain killers hit different 

Loves hand rubs because he has a bit of nerve damage after being a demolition expert for so long

He also has a significant amount of hearing loss on his left side so he always turns right when you're talking so he can hear better. 

Works out at the gym because he doesn't give a flying fuck. Definitely likes to be at home to work out tho because he can do pushups where your under him and he gets a lil kiss when he comes down. Sit ups get kisses too<3 

Had a transphobic bully in highschool and basically dedicated his free time to the gym. By the end of the second year he absolutely clocked the guy.

No one messed with him since. 

Soap who loves to draw you, has a notebook basically dedicated to you and every single way he could draw you (wink wonk)

Likes when you ruffle his mohawk 

Likes it more when it's after you squeeze his arms

He's a show off 💪:3💪

Soap deals with his dysphoria pretty well for the most part, although when he is dysphoric he works out a lot- and he seeks out your comfort. 

Those silly pairs of boxers make him less dysphoric, they make him feel more like the teenage boy he never really saw himself as. Has a pair that say choking hazard and he wiggles his eye brows every time he puts them on 

Literally one of the best hype men when your dysphoric he talks you up with the same energy of a frat boy psyching up his best pall

Gets oddly possessive when you wear his boxers (please do he loves it) like yeah that's right, that his man 

Nsfw//

Going off of the boxers thing it also makes his really horny 

Soap gets hard pretty easy tho, and the more comfortable he is with you the higher his sex drive. 

Absolutely worships you, especially when you're dysphoric, he loves nothing more than haveing you ride his thigh while he calls you his handsome man, his good boy. 

Soap loves to fuck you, soap “always strapped up” mactavish 

But he also likes period sex, he's kinda nasty, likes when it's messy regardless but period sex is extra messy. 

Absolutely finger blasts you till the towel looks like a war zone 💀 

Really likes to be fucked on his period too, he Letts you have a bit more control then normal but don't be fooled he's a power bottom at best. 

Likes to put his finger in your mouth and really loves when you bite em a little 

Soap dose not care about hair, he is pretty hairy himself although he is well groomed, but he honestly doesn't care. 

Will absolutely man handle you regardless of size, soap is a big man and he trains hard for those 💪💪

Really goes wild with the dirty talk

“Cannae even take my fingers? How'er ye supposed to take mah cock ey?”

The accent definitely gets thicker the more horny he gets 

Loves when you give his T-dick head because he also is shoving his fingers down your throat for the effect™